“Yeah. But they’re Fate-matched mates. Ones with a pregnant female Beta and a little girl waiting for them at home.” Sure, their other mate’s scent rocked me as deeply as theirs did. That wouldn’t make me more than an outlier in their pack.
“You ran?” She scoffs when I nod, splashing salsa onto the counter when she dips the last piece of telera bread with too much strength. “Mijo, si corres te va a ir peor. So what if you don’t share a Fated-connection? If you wake up every day choosing each other,thatis what matters.”
I want to deny what she says, but I feel it already. The heartache caused by our separation. Running away won’t make my feelings for Foster and Shepherd go away; it will only hurt my heart.
“Now that you’ve seen reason, go tell your papás we’re ready to eat. By the time they leave their chairs, I’ll have the pambazos finished.” She turns her back, leaving me to interrupt whichever game my fathers are watching.
After a warm meal and time with my parents, my heart feels fuller. There is still a hole where a certain Alpha-Omega duo should be, but I feel more settled now than I did earlier. “Come home again soon, Mijo,” Mamá tells me as I walk out to my car. “And go find the man who owns your heart. I expect to meet him soon.”
Fear prevents me from opening my phone and messaging Pack Graves to find Foster’s contact information. It’s only been two days, so taking a few more to hype myself up won’t ruin everything. I hope.
I’m scrolling through the delivery app, trying to decide what to order for lunch, when my phone rings with a call from the label’s secretary. “Hello?” I answer, playing with a string hanging from the end of my sleeve.
“Manny, this is Jane from upstairs. There is a young man here to see you.” Rustling fills the line, and her voice gets quiet before she adds, “A young Omega.”
A male Omega is here to see me? At the label?
My hear races as I end our call and head to the elevator. I have assisted many Omegas, male and female, but none of them would bother to seek me out after. Except maybe him.Foster.But he has a pack, so surely it would be me reaching out, and not the other way around.
Anxiety swirls with hope, my foot tapping along the elevator floor as I wait for it to take me up one level. I think I might be sick. The stress of potentially being disappointed is too much to handle.
Ding!The doors open to the bright lobby, and my breath catches. He’s here. Standing by Jane’s desk, dressed in dark skinny jeans and a tight black t-shirt. His aquamarine eyes light up as he turns and sees me. “Manny!” Brilliant lemon tart flows around him, too thick for the descenters to drown out before it reaches me. He smells as delicious now as he did during his heat.
“Foster, what are you doing here?” His face falls, and I want to punch myself. “Sorry, that came out wrong. I’m just surprised to see you.”
He gives me a coy look as he shoves his hands into his pockets. “Shepherd told me you work here. I hope that’s okay. I wanted to see you. Take you to lunch? If you’re free.”
“Yeah, I-that sounds great. I was going to order in, but we can go out and grab something. I don’t see another band until three.”
Which gives me two hours to figure out what chaos Fate has thrown in my path.
“Perfect! We won’t go far, and I’ll make sure you are back well before your next appointment. Promise!” He presses the button for the elevator and steps dangerously close to me, fingers brushing against mine. I swallow thickly, heart pounding against my chest. I feel like a teenager going on his first date: sweaty and on the verge of puking.
The ride down is quiet and a little awkward, but as we walk out onto the street, the late September air filling our lungs, it seems to fade away. “Would you prefer to drive or walk? It’s a few blocks away.” Foster stops, waiting for my answer.
“Let’s walk. Enjoy the sunshine.”
Crowds thicken on the sidewalks the closer we get to the shopping district, forcing us apart as hurried businessmen push between us. I jolt when a warm hand wraps around mine, but a glance tells me it belongs to Foster. He has to feel how sweaty my palm is, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, his grip tightens, and his fingers thread with mine.
“Sorry, I forgot how busy Starburgh gets around lunchtime. Gives me a reason to hold your hand, too.” He gives me a cheeky grin, emotion swirling in his sparkling, jewel-toned eyes.
The restaurant he leads me into is rustic and masculine, with light wood tables and metal chairs. Old bar signs cover the walls, and a long bar runs down the left, with tall bench-stoolsfor patrons to sit on. Around us, people eat a variety of foods. American-style tacos, pizza, and burgers. It’s a well-rounded mix, and a great pick for lunch when we aren’t sure of each other’s food preferences.
“I’ll admit, I wasn’t sure where to take you to eat, but this place has everything. Including my favorite food—pizza.” His stomach rumbles loudly, backing up his excitement. “What’s your favorite food?”
“Picarones. They’re Peruvian donuts. My abuela is originally from Peru, and she taught all her grandkids how to make them. We spent weekend mornings in the kitchen making batches large enough to feed a high school football team.” I can still smell the scent of the oil and sweet potato blended with her cinnamon sugar.
A server arrives to take our drink orders, so I turn my attention to the menu. It’s impossible to focus when my eyes are drawn to every small movement Foster makes. Shifting in his seat, flipping his menu, his foot bumping mine. My instincts are too attuned to his needs for my own good, because sensing his nervousness amplifies my own.
We both order pizzas. Mine loaded with veggies; his with meat and cheese.
“Why did you leave?” He asks suddenly, hurt woven through every word.
Warmth flushes my skin, and I find myself unable to meet his eyes.‘Because I am a coward’is what I want to say, but the words won’t pass my lips. “Because your heat was over.”
His lips purse, and his eyes wrinkle at the corners, not quite narrowing his eyes on me. “Look, Manny, I’m going to be completely honest with you. It gutted me when I realized you had left.” I flinch, guilt churning in my stomach. “What happened between us during the heat… I thought we had a connection. Did you not feel the same? Because this can be aone-off. A way to say thanks for the help, and then I’ll leave you alone.”
“I felt it, too,” I admit quietly.
