Good Girl by Sam Hall
Chapter 11
When I woke to the muffled sound of someone talking to Mum downstairs, I assumed it was George come for brunch. I rolled out of bed, sweeping my hair up into a messy bun and pulling on an old tracksuit before running down the stairs. But my pace slowed dramatically when I saw Mum’s good crystal vase with a stunning bunch of irises in it and him. He looked too big, too wide, too alive, too bright to be in our house, his auburn hair shining redder in the morning light streaming in through the windows.
Brendan.
“You sure I can’t get you some eggs, Brendan? At least some toast?”
“No, no thank you, Ms Rhodes, though I’m sure they’d be amazing. I have to keep an empty stomach if I’m to survive a meal with Ma. She’s mad on cooking, always pushing us boys to eat, eat, eat! She takes it personal if I don’t try everything, and anyway, I’m sure you’ve got a million things to do rather than cook for me.”
“Oh, yes, I do actually.”
God, Mum, get some social graces, I thought furiously.
“But it’s been lovely chatting with you. Thank you so much for coming by. Cyn assures me everything is fine and everyone’s just ‘feeling things out’ and that I need to chill.” That small frown formed again. “I have exactly zero chill when it comes to my daughter. We only really started connecting again recently. A lot of family therapy and…” She waved her hand, dismissing everything she said. “You don’t want to hear about that.”
“It’s obvious that you love your daughter very much. She’s a credit to you both.”
And just then, I saw that even betas were susceptible to alpha charm. He sounded so bloody sure of what he was saying, I watched Mum’s shoulders drop and her spine soften.
“She is, isn’t she.” But then that sixth sense of hers kicked in, and she spied me on the stairs. “She’s also here. Come and have some breakfast, Cyn.”
I slunk in like a beaten dog, feeling their eyes on me as I grabbed some juice from the fridge.
“Anyone want any?” I asked, shaking the container but not making eye contact. Kai or nothing, I wasn’t up for alpha jousting today. I felt raw and frazzled, like someone had been stroking me the wrong way.
And what way is that?my mind queried.
“Love some,” Brendan said. I could feel his eyes on me as I grabbed the glasses and poured the drinks, but I didn’t want that attention right now. I felt like a naked, insignificant, scruffy little nothing right now, so I carried the drinks over and placed one in front of him, sitting a few seats down at the kitchen table.
“Well, I’ve got a conference call to convene. Again, lovely to meet you, Brendan.”
He said something nice and pleasant in response, waiting for Mum’s footsteps to fade away before he spoke to me.
“Sit next to me, omega.”
He was the dark horse, the smiling one, the one who didn’t seem like an alpha until you realised what was happening. I was up and out of my seat and slotting into the one next to him, my juice still in my hand, undrunk. Because what was a dry mouth compared to this? I breathed in, getting something domestic from him. The scent of gingerbread and cider and autumn nights, where the air gets crisp enough to snap. I took one long breath, then another, feeling my body—
“I sent you a message, but you might not have had time to read it. Omega?”
“No,” I replied finally, staring at the bright orange glow of the juice. “I slept…weird, stayed in bed too late. I thought you were George.”
“Did you now? Well, drink your juice.” I frowned, my fingers tightening around the glass. “Drink it. You’ll be tired and dehydrated, and I don’t want you getting a headache. God knows my family will give you one as it is.”
“Is that what you wanted from me today?” I asked, chancing a sidelong look.
Oh fuck no, that was not smart. Broad shoulders, T-shirt worn soft from too many washes, thick forearms, big hands that tipped the juice up to his lips and swallowed it down, while I was unable to look away as his throat worked. And then he put it down, fixing me with eyes the colour of amber.
“I want you to drink something, omega. I’ve made that clear.”
A long breath escaped my nose, and I grabbed the glass, drinking deep from it in a series of noisy, graceless gulps.
“Good girl.” A hand landed on my bare knee, making me jump, then squirm. “Now, I won’t be taking up much of your time. I’ll be leaving that to the others. I don’t have much to offer you, not like they do. I just do the fucking donkey work, keep shit running smoothly. But my parents, I think they’re a bit like yours. They hear stories about me running with an omega? The first thing they do is get on the blower to me, demanding a meet and greet. I talked them down from a BBQ with the entire clan to just a little brunch with the immediate family. Though I bet the whole fucking clan is there by the time we arrive.” The last bit was a muttered aside. “If you want to cry off, pretend you’re sick, I’ll respect that.”
I chanced a look at him, saw the set of his shoulders, the slight frown.
“This isn’t for you.”
He blinked, thought about what he said, and then shook his head. “No, it’s not. I love my family more than anything, but what I have with the boys…” His jaw flexed, his eyes dropping to the tablecloth. For a moment, he looked almost omega-like. “It’s hard for them. They expected me to find some nice girl from the suburbs, like them, to have a massive brace of babies, like them, to find a good solid job and work that job until I retire.” His gaze flicked up again, meeting mine head-on. “Instead, I’m me.”
“They’re betas, like Mum.” I looked behind at the flowers, at the crystal vase. Most alphas wouldn’t think to do something like that. Matings were either instinct driven or negotiated by the family. Bringing flowers might be something you do to please a skittish omega, but her mother?
“Yeah, they are, and they’re trying, really really trying. They did some night classes at the Omega Centre and watched videos on YouTube, but that doesn’t really prepare them for what we have.” His hand squeezed my knee, stroking the skin there for a second before pulling away, leaving a hot imprint behind. “Nothing does. So when they saw mention of you and us in the social columns, they rang me up, demanded a meet and greet.” He laughed, but it was a hollow, desperate sound. “They’re so fucking happy. For them, they can put what we are in a reliable framework now. We’ve found our fifth, our omega. I need you to do this for me today, Cyn. Just this once. When we ‘break up’ and you find your true mate, I’ll let them down easy. You’ll never have to see them again.”
There was command in his voice, he couldn’t stop that from bleeding through, but he tried and that shocked me. He really fucking tried. He wanted me to choose this, choose him, choose to give his family a little peace. I fished out my phone, flicking through my messages until I found George’s.
Me: Gotta postpone. Something’s come up
As I waited for the little dots to resolve themselves as George texted me back, my hand snuck across the table, finding his on automatic and wrapping my fingers around them. Instantly, it was swallowed by his much bigger one, clasped tight, his thumb making frantic sideswipes back and forth as I received a text.
G: Thank fuck. Am trashed. Never drinking Scotch again. Let’s chat in the PM
Me: Done.
I set the phone down, staring out the back sliding door to the forest beyond, the sight of it settling me where only traipsing for hours would do so. I looked up, only making it to his lips, scanning the square jaw and the careless stubble and those full fucking lips that pursed and then relaxed again. What would his mouth taste like? Would his kiss be slow but intense like Rhys, or hard and vicious like Marcus? Or was he something else again? I felt something prickle at the edges of my mind, like somehow, I already knew, but how could I?
“I suppose we’re due at your parents’ place soon?” I asked.
“Soon as we can be. They’re keen, I’ll get that out of the fucking way right now, embarrassingly keen.”
“I’ll get dressed.”
I rose to my feet, only letting go of his hand when I had to, but his free hand reached out, hooking around my waist and pulling me close. I blinked, frowning, not sure what to do when he pressed his head to my stomach. Seconds ticked by, marked by the sounds of the birds, the wind in the trees, and Mum’s muffled conversations from behind her office door. I lifted my hand slowly, like one would when stroking a wild animal, my fingers only just touching the tips of his hair when he spoke.
“Thanks for doing this, Cyn. It’s a bullshit gig. You won’t find your alpha at the Slattery house, that’s for sure. But…”
His words fell away as I stroked my hand through his hair, just feeling the soft slip of it over and over, and it settled something deep inside me.
It wasn’t such a stretch. This was what we were socialised to be. Whatever physiological difference between alphas, betas, and omegas there were, the gentle, caring side of our nature was the one we were encouraged to display. We were supposed to be this, the counterpoint to all that alpha pushiness, but it was a side of myself I had never really felt before now. When I touched the shell of his ear, sliding down the cartilage, he pulled away, seeming to realise what he’d just done, the line he’d just crossed.
“Fuck, sorry, it’s just…” He cleared his throat. “Get dressed, omega, and then meet me by the car.”
So why did I feel as fragile as the glass the light poured in through as I watched him walk outside, striding towards the big muscle car parked on our verge? Why did I feel like I’d just lost something precious? My hands flexed, as if somehow, I could still grab at whatever that was, before I shook my head and raced upstairs.
Shower, subtle makeup, and parent friendly clothes later, I trotted downstairs like a good little omega and went towards the car. He got out, running around and opening my door, making me pause before getting in.
“Thank you,” he said, sliding his hand up under my ponytail, just holding it there for a second, before pulling away and walking around to his side of the car.