Page 40 of Omega in Love
As we clean up, the air between us is light, playful. It's a stark contrast to the intensity of our lovemaking, but it's a welcome one. This is what I love about Brookes, he's not just one thing, one emotion. He's a complex tapestry of strength and vulnerability, sass and sweetness, fire and ice. I'm the lucky bastard who gets to explore every inch of that tapestry.
But as we settle back onto the lounger, his body tucked against mine, I can feel the tension creeping back into his muscles. I know what he's thinking about New York.
"Talk to me, Petal," I murmur, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "Tell me what's going on in that beautiful mind of yours."
He sighs, his breath warm against my skin. "I'm just. . .I'm scared, Dante. I'm scared that I'll freeze up, that I'll panic, that I'll make a fool of myself. I'm scared that I'll let everyone down, Charlotte, her guys, you, Hero, Levi. . ."
His voice trails off, and I can feel the fear radiating off him like a physical force. It breaks my heart to see him like this, to know that he's carrying this burden. But I also know that he's strong, stronger than he gives himself credit for.
"Hey," I say, tilting his chin up so that he's looking at me. "You are not alone in this, okay? You have us, me, Hero, Levi. We're your pack, your family, and we're not going to let anything happen to you. You're not going to let anyone down because you're not in this alone. We're right here with you, every step of the way."
He nods, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "I know, I know. It's just. . .it's hard, you know? It's hard to trust that, to believe that."
I understand what he means. Trust is a fragile thing, easily broken and hard to rebuild. But I also know that we've earned his trust, that we've shown him time and time again that we're here for him, that we love him.
"Brookes," I say, my voice firm but gentle. "You are the strongest person I know. You've been through hell and back, and you're still standing. You're still fighting. That's what you're going to do in New York, you're going to fight. You're going to show the world that you're not just a survivor, but a warrior. We're going to be right there with you, fighting alongside you."
He takes a deep breath, his body relaxing against mine. "Okay," he says, his voice steadier now. "Okay, I can do this. We can do this."
I smile, pride swelling in my chest. "That's my Petal."
We spend the rest of the day like that as I give him the run down of our plans for New York, lounging by the pool, talking, laughing, planning. The sun begins to set, painting the sky with hues of orange and pink, and the air cools, a soft breeze rustling the leaves of the nearby trees. It's peaceful, perfect, and I wish we could stay like this forever.
The world keeps turning, and soon, Levi and Hero return, their arms laden with bags of food. The smell of barbecue fills the air as Levi fires up the grill, and we all gather around, the four of us, our little family.
As we eat, the conversation flows easily, naturally. We talk about everything and nothing, our voices blending together in a symphony of laughter and love. As I look around at my pack, at my new family, I know that whatever comes our way, we can face it. We have each other, and that's all that matters.
As the night wears on, I can see the exhaustion creeping into Brookes’ eyes. His smiles come slower, his laughter softer, and I know that he's reaching his limit. It's been a long day, an emotional day, and he needs rest.
"Alright, Petal," I say, standing up and stretching. "Time for bed."
He looks up at me, a small pout on his lips. "But I'm not tired," he protests, even as a yawn escapes him.
I chuckle, shaking my head. "Yeah, yeah, I can see that. Come on, let's get you tucked in."
He grumbles but allows me to lead him inside, Hero and Levi following close behind. We make our way to the bedroom, the soft glow of the moonlight guiding our path. Each of us preparing for bed like a well practiced team. Brookes crawls onto the bed, his body sinking into the soft mattress with a sigh.
I climb in beside him, pulling him close, his back pressed against my chest. Hero settles on his other side, his arm draped protectively over Brookes’ waist. Levi takes his place at the foot of the bed, his hand resting gently on Brookes’ leg.
Surrounded by us, Brookes relaxes, his body melting into ours. His breath evens out, his heartbeat slows, and I know that he's drifted off to sleep, safe and secure in the arms of his pack.
I lie there, listening to the soft sounds of his breathing, and I marvel at how far we've come. A year ago, I was a different man, a broken man. I was lost, adrift, haunted by the ghosts of my past. Then Brookes came into my life, and everything changed. He healed me, saved me, made me whole again.
Now, as we face the challenges ahead, I know that we can overcome anything. Together, we're unstoppable. Together, we're a force to be reckoned with. Together, we're a love story for the ages, and I wouldn't have it any other way.
Leaning down, I kiss Brookes’ temple and whisper my words of love in his ear, before I close my eyes and find sleep.
Chapter 18
Hero
Through the tinted window, I watch the city slip by, tracking the urban landscape with a sniper's eye. Not for threats for once but simply cataloguing details. This is how I process, collecting data, finding patterns in the chaos. It's been three weeks, two days, and forty-seven minutes since Brookes agreed to this trip. Not that I'm counting. Not that I'm memorizing every subtle change in his demeanor since then, tracking his recovery like mission coordinates.
The car moves smoothly through LA traffic, Dante's hands steady on the wheel. Brookes sits in the back with Levi, their quiet conversation a gentle hum beneath the air conditioning. I catch fragments, something about a magazine cover, a joke about shoes, but I'm more focused on Brookes’ body language than his words. The way his fingers occasionally fidget with the hem of his designer jacket, how he tilts his head slightly when he listens to Levi, the measured cadence of his breathing that I've learned to read like a tactical map.
His shoulders aren't bunched near his ears like they were yesterday. I call that a win, progress. Small victories in a war against invisible enemies.
Three weeks ago, after our video call about security, Charlotte called about testifying. Brookes had gone so still I thought he might shatter. He'd held his phone like it might bite him, knuckles white, breathing shallow.
