A second scent-matched Omega?It shouldn’t be possible. And yet here we are.
For almost ten years, we’ve been trying to have a child. Each negative test hit harder than the last. The miscarriages felt likesucker punches. Then came the answer; my uterus, or half of one. A unicornuate uterus. A rare condition that makes carrying a pregnancy nearly impossible.
We looked into adoption, thought about surrogacy. Spent late nights digging through options and paperwork. It’s selfish, but we wanted a child that was, at least in part a bit of all of us. I know that would never be possible for real, but to conceive a baby with all of them taking part, was important to me.
And then Sandra walks into our bar. As if the Universe has heard my silent prayers for a child and is giving us a second Omega that can offer that, maybe. But there I go, making assumptions about her. For all I know she wants out of here as soon as possible. I don’t know of many Omegas who would want to share Alphas.
I should feel jealous. I should feel threatened. But I don’t. I’m just curious. And maybe drawn to her in a way I didn’t expect. I haven’t felt anything like this since I met my Alphas.
The house comes into view, our big lavender-purple Victorian with the wraparound porch and too many rooms. Jethro’s truck is already in the driveway. He and Sandra head toward the front door as we park and follow.
Inside, the house smells like laundry and the guys’ mixed marshmallow scents.
Jethro pauses just inside and glances at Sandra. “This is it. Home.”
She takes in the space slowly. Eyes wide, shoulders tight. “It’s big.”
I step up beside her. “We’ll give you a tour. There’s plenty of room.”
We start with the living room, just off the entry. “This is where we hang out most nights.” The room has a large sectional couch, soft and broken-in, a couple of mismatched chairs we found at a flea market, and a fireplace that Jethro insists on lighting evenwhen it’s barely cold. A projector points at the spot above the mantle for our epic movie nights.
Next, I gesture toward the dining room through a wide archway. “This is where we eat when we’re not at the bar. Caleb actually uses it to sort mail and paperwork more than anything else.”
Sandra smiles faintly, eyes landing on the oversized table that looks like it’s seen years of shared meals.
“Kitchen’s through here.” I lead her to the back of the house. The kitchen is bright, with pale cabinets, hanging copper pots, and a wide island in the center. “Ross bakes when he’s stressed, so don’t be surprised if you wake up to cinnamon rolls at three in the morning.”
She lets out a soft sound, maybe the beginning of a laugh.
“Guest bathroom’s here.” I point to the powder room tucked beside the stairs. “That one’s mostly for visitors, but use it whenever.”
I skip the door to Jethro’s office and the one to the basement. “Nothing interesting down there. Just laundry and storage.”
Upstairs, I show her the guest rooms. “Each has its own bathroom. This one’s got blackout curtains and a really soft mattress. The one at the end has the best morning light.”
Finally, we reach our wing. I stop at the hallway that branches off. “That’s Jethro’s room, and the one across is Caleb’s. Ross’s is on the other side of the staircase.”
We each have our own space, though they never really sleep in them. After a decade, we prefer to sleep together in a pile in my nest. “This,” I say, nodding toward the door in front of us, “is the nest.”
Pausing, I glance at her, measuring her reaction. “You’re welcome to use it tonight. We can figure out a nest for you soon, if you want it...” My voice trails off as I rub the back of my neck.She hasn’t said she’s staying, and maybe I shouldn’t assume. But offering her a safe place right now feels important.
The door opens to a cozy room stacked high with blankets and pillows. Stuffed animals peek out from the layers. Various fairy lights in different colors create a rainbow-like effect in the room. It’s my own little haven.
Sandra doesn’t move. Just stares. “I can’t sleep here. This is yours. I can take the couch.”
Shaking my head, I take a small step closer. “It’s okay. I want you to. You need a safe space right now, and that’s what this room is for. Especially after everything.”
She hesitates. “But—“
“Please, use it. I can crash in one of the guys’ rooms. We can figure everything else out later.”
Jethro leans against the doorway. “He’s right. This is one of the safest rooms in the house. It’s farthest from the street, and it doesn’t face any of the other houses, so no one can see in.”
She glances between us. “Thank you.”
“We’ll leave you to settle in.” I back toward the door. “If you need anything, we’ll be downstairs.”
We’re almost out when she catches my hand.
