Duke and Abel talked or listened to the radio. I read the last two of my Christmas novels, stopping occasionally when the motion of the car made me sick to my stomach. I slept a little, too, as did the pups. Fan played puppy games on Abel’s cell phone, an offer that had made me nervous at first, but he seemed to take the responsibility seriously enough that I could stop watching him so closely.
And then, finally, we were showing our papers at the gate to Buffalo Gap, and I was back in my home town. I hung out the window as we drove through the tiny community, heading for the Alpha’s house. My Uncle Mitchel waited on his front porch for us, hat tipped back on his head, battered boots up on the railing. No formality here. Abel’s posture changed, stiffening ominously. My stomach churned and a strange prickling had started in the skin around my hairline. I eyed Abel nervously, uncertain what he’d do or say. He’d been so stiff with Patrick, and I knew he still carried some anger at Uncle Mitchel for mating me off so early.
But all the tension disappeared when we got out of the van.
“Mitchel,”Abel said with a wide smile.
Uncle Mitchel got off his chair and came down the front steps. “Abel. How are you? I see you brought Bax with you.”
“I did. Where I go, he goes.”
“I take it you’re fond of him.”
“He’s a good shifter.”
Nicely neutral of you, my love.
Fan climbed creakily out of the car, rubbing sleep from his eyes. I released Noah from his seat and set him in his sling, then picked up Abel’s phone and brought it to him. Fan followed us, hanging off Duke’s hand and looking around curiously. I’d been telling him about the place, and I could see him trying to match my stories to the reality.
“Hello, Uncle Mitchel,” I said.
He looked me over. “Hello, Bax. You’ve been well, I see.”
I gritted my teeth. “For certain definitions of well.” The math textbook had served me well, at least in terms of sarcasm. I bit my cheek and cast a quick glance at Abel, but his face didn’t tell me anything. Hopefully, I hadn’t screwed up before we even got started.
Since Uncle Mitchel just looked at me in puzzlement, I guessed that the message had flown clean over his head, and I breathed a silent sigh of relief. “Yes, Uncle, I’m well. Mercy Hills is nice; the pups like it there.”
That seemed to satisfy him, and he turned to Abel. “The house next door is where we usually put guests, if you don’t mind waiting while we empty it.” He turned back to Bax. “Your cousin Holland is staying there while we figure out what to do with him.”
“What to do with him?” Abel asked, puzzled.
Uncle Mitchel gave me a look. “It’s a family thing. Very sudden. He can sleep on my couch while you’re here, there’s no need for you to worry yourself about him.”
I tugged on the sleeve of Abel’s shirt. “Holland is an omega, too, a couple of years younger than me.”
He raised his eyebrows at me. I knew what he was wondering—why was he living on his own in guest quarters? Didn’t he have a family here to take him?
I shrugged. “That’s all right, Uncle Mitchel. I don’t mind sharing.”
“It’s not up to you to decide. And if you keep on like that, you’ll spoil your second chance. An Alpha doesn’t want a mate who tries to boss him around.”
Yeah, he had that right, at least with Patrick. I cast a glance up at Abel, wondering if he’d say anything.
He did more than that. “I’ve never noticed Bax bossing me around. He usually has good suggestions. And I don’t mind—Bax might enjoy the help.”
Now it was my turn to raise my eyebrows. I’d never asked for help with the pups, ever. What was Abel up to?
Uncle Mitchel shook his head. “Well, maybe you’ve got him better trained than we ever did. Or maybe Patrick did the trick. Whatever. Holland has the small bedroom, so you folks can have the two at the front of the house.
“Thank you, Mitchel,” Abel said evenly, then turned to Duke and I. “Let’s get unpacked, and then we can have the grand tour.”
CHAPTER FIFTY
The town both did and didn’t look like I remembered. Now that I had Mercy Hills to compare it to, I realized how shabby and run down the place was. We were lucky here—unlike Jackson-Jellystone, which had been put up in part of the park, this had been an actual community before the government had bought out the landowners and built the walls. The houses were sturdy, and the pack had looked after them as well as they could. Still, you could see the wear and tear on them, and on the pack members who passed, with nothing to do but wander the streets and spy on each other.
Buffalo Gap lived off tourist money, making crafts and selling shifter themed junk. I’d sucked at that too, though any time I managed to get myself put in charge of a project, it always finished ahead of schedule. Not that I’d ever gotten credit for it—omega, right?
Duke once again loaded himself up with our gear, though Abel took the clothes basket this time. Uncle Mitchel led us over to the little two-story house next door and ushered us in without so much as a courtesy knock for Holland.
I was burning to know what had happened, and I craned my neck looking for him as we trooped through the house and up the stairs. The door to one of the bedrooms was shut—that must have been his.
It didn’t take long to settle in. Careful of Abel’s reputation, I sent him downstairs with Fan and Duke and Uncle Mitchel, and did the unpacking myself. The whole time I worked, I listened for sounds from the other bedroom, but there was nothing. Maybe he was out? But from the way Uncle Mitchel talked about it, he probably wasn’t out. On my way back downstairs, I stopped at that closed door and tapped lightly. Noah was a comforting weight against my chest, his tiny puppy snores barely audible.
“Holland? It’s me, Bax. Are you in there?” I pressed my ear to the door, hoping for some noise, but when I hadn’t heard anything in nearly a minute, I decided he must have gone out and started down the stairs.
Behind me, the door opened. “Bax?” His voice was watery and nasal, like he’d been crying.
I spun around and raced back up the stairs. “I’m so glad to see you!” It was funny—when I’d lived here before my mating, I’d hardly paid any attention to him at all. I was one of the older omegas, while he’d been right in the middle of that huge glut of us. And, honestly, I’d been more interested in the alphas, figuring on one of them for a mate. And some fun beforehand.
He smiled at me and sniffed. His face was blotchy and his hair, as dark as mine but more waves than curls, was snarled into a bird’s nest of epic proportions. “Hi, Bax. What brings you back to Buffalo Gap.”
“I’m getting mated again. We’re here to talk to Uncle Mitchel about it.”
“Congratulations. I heard that your other mate died.”
I grimaced. “Yeah.”
“Not a happy mating.”
“Not particularly.” I sighed. “It could have been worse. What happened with you? I haven’t heard anything from home since I moved to Jackson-Jellystone.”
“Oh, well. It’s not a very interesting story.”
“I’d bet it’s very interesting. Why are you ‘back’, and where are you back from?”
He glanced down the stairs, then drew me into his room and closed the door. “I’m in disgrace.”
My blood went cold. There were only a few things that would ruin an omega’s reputation so completely. “What happened?” Please let it not be rape.
“I was mated last fall. I’ve been having heats since I was fourteen—I never thought…” His voice trailed away and he collapsed in tears on the bed.
“You never caught.” I sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed his back. “I gather he repudiated you.”
Holland nodded, his face still buried in the bedclothes. “He gave me a year, two heats, and when I hadn’t caught on the second one, he declared me infertile and sent me back.” His body shook with weeping. “I don’t know what I’m going to do!” The pitch of his voice ha
d climbed almost to a squeak with the weight of the emotion crushing him, and the last words were choked out between painful sounding sobs.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. But maybe this could be turned to our advantage. “Let me see what I can do.”
“There’s nothing to be done! I’m ruined, and I’m going to spend my life living on charity, if I don’t end up doing worse.” And then, under his breath, so low I almost didn’t hear it. “I don’t want to go to Nevada.”
Nevada. Oh, they were doing well. Not like Mercy Hills, but when prostitution had been legalized north of Las Vegas, they’d jumped on it. I didn’t think they’d force him, but… “Not going to happen. I’ll talk to Abel.”
“He can’t help.”
“Ha!” I stood up. “He’s the Alpha of Mercy Hills. And he’ll help you, because that’s what he’s like.” I kissed the messy knots of hair. “Get up and get yourself tidy, then come down and meet him. I’m going to go downstairs to put them all in a good mood. There’s food in the kitchen?”
“Some.” Holland pushed himself up to sitting. “You really think there’s something to be done?”
“Yes. Now, go wash!” I left him there and raced down the stairs to find Abel. I thought—I’d never really asked him for anything, except to stay in Mercy Hills. Perhaps, this one thing…
“There you are!” Uncle Mitchel scolded. “What on earth took so long? You didn’t bring that much with you.”
“I’m sorry, Uncle Mitchel,” I said contritely. “I looked in on Holland. He’s going to come down and we’ll figure out what we need in the way of food. And he’s probably a better cook than me, so it’s a good idea to have him handle the kitchen.”
Uncle Mitchel snorted. “You’ve grown some in the past four years.”
I bit back a sarcastic remark and simply smiled at him. “I’m going to go see what’s in the kitchen.” I made my escape, but shot Abel a look as I passed him.
My future mate was a pretty decent mind reader. He was only a few minutes following me into the kitchen, Fan in tow as if they were looking for a snack to tide him over until our very late supper was ready.
“What’s wrong?” he asked in a low voice. He set Fan on the counter and began rooting around in cupboards.
“Holland’s been repudiated,” I told him, my voice shaking with fury, though I was careful to keep it low enough that my words wouldn’t carry out to the living room. “It’s not fair.”
“What did he do?”
I slammed a cupboard closed behind him, furious with this unexpected betrayal. “Why do you assume it was him? There’s all sorts of reasons why an omega can be repudiated that have nothing to do with any of our choices.”
My voice must have risen. Behind me, Uncle Mitchel spoke, in a tone I’d learned to dread when I was younger. “You owe this man an apology, Baxter.”
I felt the blood drain out of my cheeks and saw Abel’s face turn to stone. Oh, fuck, I fucked it up, I’ve really done it now. Oh, help me. Without thinking, I put a hand out to Abel, then let it drop. At least the pups had a home, right? Unless he decided to break the contract. Or farm them out to other families… The room went dark around the edges and then Abel’s arms were around me and I clung to him with silent tears dripping down my face. Noah woke up and began to wail, and I just wanted to go home, but where was home, really? The world tipped crazily and bright sparks clouded my vision. Was I going to faint?
“Shh, shh, it’s all right,” Abel murmured into my hair. “I’ve got you, you don’t need to worry.”
“I-I’m sorry, Abel,” I forced out through a throat so tight I could barely breath. “I didn’t mean to be disobedient.”
“You’d have to do something a lot worse than take me to task for prejudice for me to call it disobedience.” His hands rubbed soothingly over me, and my heart slowly clued in to the possibility that I hadn’t screwed this up, that he still wanted me, that he wasn’t angry.
“Oh.” I went to hug him, then realized my sling was empty. “Noah!”
“Shh, shh. I gave him to your uncle to hold. They’re outside, looking at geckos with Duke and Fan.”
“Oh,” I repeated stupidly. “That’s a good idea.” I held on for a few minutes longer, reluctant to face the situation I had created.
“What brought that on?” Abel led me to a chair and sat me down on it, then crouched in front of me, still holding my hands. “I thought we were past that.”
“I don’t know.” I wiped my eyes and looked around the shabby kitchen. “It’s this place, I think. And the last one.” I shook my head and sniffed.
“Hmmm.” He laid the backs of his fingers against my cheek, and then my forehead. “You feel hot.”
I tried to make a joke. “I hope you think so, since you’re mating me.”
“No, it’s not that. Holland!”
My cousin crept nervously out of the pantry, his eyes flicking back and forth between us. “Yes, sir?”
“Do you have a thermometer here?”
“I can check the bathroom.”
“Abel, really, I’m fine.” Except now that he mentioned it, I didn’t feel fine. If anything, the prickling had spread around my body, and the joints of my ribs ached with each breath. “Maybe I’ll get a drink.”
“You stay there. I’ll get it.” Abel searched through the cupboards, opening and closing several before he found the cabinet with the tumblers in it. I closed my eyes and listened to the rush of water as he filled one. A touch on my hand made me jump and open my eyes. Abel’s concerned face filled my view. “You were swaying.” He put the glass on the table and laid the back of his hand against my cheek again. “Yeah, you’re warm.”
The front door opened and closed, and then Holland appeared. “I had to go next door,” he said, holding something out to Abel.
Abel took it with a grunt, shook it, then turned back to me. “Open up,’ he said. He held a thermometer up to my mouth.
“Really, Abel, I’m fine. I—”
He popped the instrument into my mouth and pushed gently on my jaw to close my mouth. “Stay there, don’t move.”
I reached for the thermometer to pull it out.
Abel grabbed my hand and held it down firmly. “No. Leave that in there. If it doesn’t show anything, I’m going to assume you’re just tired and stressed, and you can have an early night. But if it does, you’re definitely having an early night.”
“So I’m having an early night no matter what?” I mumbled around the thermometer.
“No talking. And yes.” He rubbed his thumb over my cheek and gave me a fond smile that lifted my mood enormously. “Holland, what do we have for food and what do we need?”
“Mostly canned food, sir, and dry goods. But I can take the basket down to the warehouse and get some fresh.”
“I’d appreciate it. I imagine Mitchel will know what account to debit.”
“Yes, sir.” Holland disappeared into the pantry, and came back out moments later with a heavy basket on his arm. “I won’t be long.”
Abel waved him off and turned back to me.
As soon as Holland was gone I reached for the thermometer.
Abel frowned and grabbed my hand again. “Don’t do that. It’s only another minute.”
Yes, it was, but I was feeling exponentially worse now, and I needed to tell Abel about Holland. To beg my favor. But he refused to let me talk, and so I sat there in forced patience, until he finally reached out and took the thermometer out of my mouth.
“Abel, I need to ask—”
“You can ask once you’re in bed. This is a fever.”
He pulled me up to my feet, and I gasped at the pain in my joints.
“Do you want me to carry you?” he asked, his brow furrowed with worry.
“No, I can walk.” It would probably hurt less. “Abel, please, can we take Holland back with us?”
“We’ll talk about it once you’re better.” He started chivying me toward the stairs.
“But he’ll h
ave no life if he stays here.” I turned and hung off the front of Abel’s shirt. “He’ll have nothing, and no way to get anything unless it’s charity. Or he…” Tears started pouring down my face and my body was on fire, and the room began to spin again. Abel picked me up and I started to cry harder, because it hurt so much, and Holland needed help and I couldn’t do anything.
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
I spent the next two days in bed, doing nothing but sleeping and taking acetaminophen for the pain and the fever. The flu, I remember someone saying, one of the bad strains, and it turned out that it had been going through Jackson-Jellystone while we were there, but no one had mentioned it. Fucking pack politics. Abel took me home on the third day, bundled into a blanket in the middle of the van, while Holland sat with the pups. I slept most of the way home, only waking to drink juice or go to the bathroom.
Abel cared for me as if I were the most precious of jewels, helping me in and out of my seat, tucking my blanket in around me.
“I’m sorry I’m so much trouble,” I told him at our last stop. I was starting to feel better, more alert, less like a wrung-out rag.
“I love you,” was all he said, and he refused to let me apologize more. But it had been inconvenient. Even more so, because my milk had dried up while I was sick, and now we were dealing with a hungry, cranky, frustrated baby boy who wasn’t ready to give up Dabi’s milk. Holland was good with him, though I could tell it hurt to look after my child when he couldn’t have his own. But I was glad to have him and now that my head was clearer, I realized I didn’t know what had passed between Abel and Uncle Mitchel, except that Abel had heard my desperate plea on Holland’s behalf.
We were on the road again before I had a chance to ask what they’d talked about.
Abel twisted around in the passenger seat so he could see me. “This and that. He wouldn’t sign a mating agreement, just a betrothal one. He was thrilled that I wanted to take Holland back to Mercy Hills, though. Made negotiations a lot easier. I’m mating a genius, and no Duke, you can’t have him.”
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