Page 13 of Knot Their Boo
Maybe I've always been gone for Sable.
Who are you fucking kidding? You’ve only ever loved one girl. Don’t fuck this up…
“That would be great, thank you, Angel.” I nod, setting my mug down a safe distance away.
“I’m just going to go shower. Thanks for this by the way. I don’t think I said that yet,” she adds, giving me a little wave as she closes the door.
Anything for you.
I’ve been doing repairs on my moms place for the last decade. A small porch like this is simple, but I take my time, even though I want to rush. I’m not leaving her with a shitty rush job, just because I want to spend time with her.
An image of Sable sitting in a rocking chair, sipping a sweet tea as I work, two or three kids running around fills my head, and I can’t shake the desire to make it a reality.
Would that be our reality now, if she’d never left? No… She’d be with Taron. His mate, his girl.His. Not mine. What if she still wants him? The image in my mind morphs, and Taron is there too. Cradling a newborn in his arms as our omega tips her head toward the sun, eyes shut, a content smile on her lips.
Fuck. Our omega. Could we build that pack she wanted once upon a time?
What if she doesn’t want children? That's okay. I just need Sable. Everything else we can figure out together. The images for our future shift again, and with her making candles as I carve sculptures out of wood, and Taron yaps about his bar. The guy never shuts up…bet he’d shut up if his mouth was occupied by our omega.
Jesus. Our omega? I’m so fucked.
If it makes her happy, then that's all I care about. Sable coming home is a second chance. I won’t waste it.
But what can I offer her? I’m not like Taron. Not a rebel, or the town bad boy alpha with nothing to lose.
I could take care of her though.
The promise of it only lasts a moment before the image of my mom flashes before my eyes. It wasn’t enough to keep mom alive, so why the fuck do I think it’ll be enough to keep an omega happy…
Shit. I shake the dark thoughts off, focusing on my task. Just fix her porch. She doesn’t even want you anymore. Just friends.
Just friends…not pack. Not mates. Not ours. Not mine.
Sable
“Hope you don't mind that I made you brunch instead of breakfast. That took you longer than I expected,” I say over my shoulder, glancing back at Colter, who's sitting at my small island on one of the bar stools. After my shower, I put on asimple t-shirt with cats on it, and cut off blue jean shorts. I went with comfort, but maybe a small part of me liked the way Colter looked at my legs…
“You didn't have to cook, Sable, but I appreciate anything you make me.” Colter’s eyes are glued to me, so maybe the shorts are working. There's this soft look on his face, and I'm surprised by how nervous it makes me. His scent is calm, and reassuring, but there's almost a hint of sadness in his eyes, and I can’t tell why.
He’s been watching me intently for the last ten minutes. Once he finished the porch, I led him to the bathroom to clean up, and now he’s smothered in my pumpkin soap scent. When he was finished, I forced him to sit. He kept getting his big alpha self in my way as I tried to make us food.
If he hadn’t let me force him into the seat, I never would have gotten him to budge an inch. He’s like three times my size, if not more. Large, even for an alpha, but gentle. The thought makes me smile.
“I didn’t expect you to fix the porch, and the least I can do is make you food.” How much did he spend on materials? It took him five hours to finish. And I can’t lie, it looks amazing. He even added a handrail. I should make him cookies too. “Do you like oatmeal cookies? I have some in the pantry if you want a few to hold you over while I finish?”
“No, thank you. I prefer sugar cookies,” he chuckles. “The holiday cookies are the best this time of year.”
Ooooh, he likes those super-sweet frosted cookies that come in fun shapes for Halloween and Christmas. “Like little bats,” I tease, but really I’m just fishing for information.
“Exactly.” He nods, smirking. Still staring at me, something unreadable in his expression. Does he look sad still, or am I reading too much into this?
“Do you not like sandwiches?” I ask, frowning down at my work. Maybe he’s upset about having to shove down food he hates to avoid upsetting an omega…
I toasted the bread and even made sure I wasn’t using mustard. I remembered he hates it. What am I doing wrong? Rejection burns my chest, and I nibble my lip nervously. Ugh, my scent sours at the thought that I’ve messed this all up. I should have just told him to scram…
“Your sandwiches look amazing, omega,” Colter says, his deep soothing voice much closer than before as his soothing scent washes over me. Warm hands grip my shoulders firmly, kneading my muscles just right. I relax into his warm touch, eyes falling shut as I rest my hands against the counter's edge.
“Did my scent give me away?” I whisper, hating that my instincts get the best of me sometimes.
