Chapter 12 A whole other story

Being with the Calloway Pack is liberating. In more ways than one.

During this week around my birthday, I always feel a little lighter, a little freer. Being able to hang out with Ren and her family, to be in a normal home life situation, is always a blessing. But being here, surrounded by a pack, having them look to me for plans for the day, is a whole other world.

The entire Calloway pack took the week off from their work in order to spend it with me. When I tried to protest, to tell them they didn’t need to do that, Hale had just kissed me silly and told me they wanted to. End of story.

I loved it.

Every morning I wake up surrounded by their scents. Tic has a spread of food for me in the kitchen, more than I could every possibly manage to eat on my own. He always, always has a smoothie ready for me and it’s the one thing he makes sure I drink all of. Apparently, he’s done research on the nutrients that omegas need to stay healthy and he’s formulated the exact right amount of fruit and veggies in drink to give me a healthy start to the day.

It also tastes amazing, so I don’t mind giving him what he wants and finishing it every day.

I never realized how touch starved I am. How much I need physical affection. My brief visits with the Karlin family are few and far between, and I don’t get any cuddles in my normal life. Not unless my father slings an arm around my shoulder for a photo op.

Other than that, the most touching I receive is from Brian, who likes to put his hand possessively on my lower back to guide me places.

But being here? It’s a whole other story. Hale, Jude and Tic all seem to love touching me, cuddling me. They greet me with kisses on my cheek or mouth, stroke my hair, sit right next to me on the couch even though it’s giant and has plenty of space for them to spread out.

They stroke and pet and love on me so much that it’s almost like I’m a cat or something, and not the mouse that Hale still calls me.

I can’t say I mind though.

At the Omega Academy, they told us that omegas need touch. It helps us feel more settled, safer, balanced. I never really understood that until now. Because I see it, see how the three of them have helped me to feel all of those things, just by being physically affectionate.

Creed, though? He still keeps his distance. Three days into my seven-day vacation and he can barely even stand to look at me. I don’t know what changed. When I’d see them at my father’s events, he seemed to be the one to stare at me hardest and longest, like he wanted to crack open my head and stare at all of my secrets, of which there are many.

But now? It feels like he can’t even stand to be in the same room as me. And yet, every time we sit down to eat or go out on a ‘date’ he’s always there. I can’t figure him out and it’s making me go a little loopy.

I hadn’t counted on them wanting to take me out, either. I spend so much time in the public eye that normally I spend this week holed up, away from prying eyes, with only the occasional trip to the farmer’s market with the Karlins.

So far they’ve wanted me to go out with them every day, but I begged off, saying I wanted to stay at their pack house and be comfortable, to get to know them privately. They’re always disappointed after I refuse and today, well, today I don’t feel like I can.

“Let’s go out for dinner,” Jude says, flopping down on the couch with his head on my lap. I just barely move my laptop out of the way in time. He squints up at the silver device. “Oh hey, I have the same one.” I open my mouth to say they’re a pretty common brand, but he’s already moving on. “Dinner, Haven. Out. I’m starving, and I want to take you out. I want to show you off.”

He’s so adorable. I want to say yes right away, but I have to pause and filter through my commands to see if there’s any that prevent me from agreeing. The only one that comes to mind is not to embarrass my father. But that would only happen if he found out about it. Which would only happen if someone spots us and takes a picture, posts it on the pages of a gossip rag.

Brian has an alert set up for any mention of my father anywhere on the internet, and they wouldn’t post a picture of me without mentioning him.

Jude frowns at me as he reaches up to squeeze the back of my neck. “What’s the problem, button? You don’t want to be seen with us?”

I lick my lips because, well, the truth might hurt him and I want to buy some time, so I don’t lie to him instead. “Yes, and no.” His hand drops with a flop to the couch and he sits up. Panicked, I grip his shoulders, keeping him down, then stroke my fingers through his hair to calm him. “If it were only me I had to consider, it wouldn’t even be a question, Jude. I’d have said yes the first time you said you wanted to go out.”

I use a finger to smooth out the creases on his forehead. Jude doesn’t look like himself when he’s frowning, and he definitely does that as he says, “But you have to think of your father too.”

I look away from him and swallow. “I do. I don’t have a choice.” That’s as close as I can get to telling him the whole truth. “If someone recognizes me, who I am and then posts about the daughter of Senator Bell out on a date with a pack…”

I can’t finish because I don’t particularly care about what it would do to his reputation, but I do care about what it’ll do to my brain. I don’t want to get a migraine while I’m here. Spending six hours in a dark room in pain isn’t my idea of a good time. And then there would be repercussions when I go home.

“It would ruin the public image of you being more like a beta than an omega.” I give a jerky nod and Jude pushes into a sitting position, turning to face me. “Why do you do that? Just to support him? It’s clear when you’re not in public that you’re an omega, Haven. You act like an omega.”

I blink at that. “Do I?”

His frown deepens, and he wipes his hand over his face. “Jesus, you can’t even recognize it.” He reaches out and tugs on the string of the hoodie I’m wearing. Creed’s hoodie.

I can’t. But now that he’s pointed it out, I can see it. All those times they kiss or cuddle me, I kiss and cuddle right back. I’ve started stealing their clothes to be wrapped in their scent. I may or may not have nestled some of those same articles of clothing around my pillows in the guest room, so I can smell them when I sleep.

If one of the alphas gets even remotely upset, I feel the urge to go to them, to soothe them, just like I had with Jude moments ago.

“Why do you hide it in public, button?”

I want to tell him. The words are right there on the tip of my tongue. All I need to do is part my lips and say it. ‘ My father barked me into it .’ But as soon as I even think of doing that, giving away his biggest secret, a sharp stab of pain hits behind my eyes.

I lift a trembling hand to pinch the bridge of my nose, hoping to ease the pain, but it does nothing. The only thing that will help is not following this line of thought. Lying . I have to lie to Jude. And I really, really don’t want to.

“Haven?” he sounds worried. Hands cup my cheeks, turning my face toward him. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

I shake my head and give him a wobbly smile. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

“You’re literally shaking right now.”

“I pretend in public because I believe in what he’s doing.” The words leave me in a rush and the pain in my head eases. Jude stops tilting my head this way and that, the tips of his fingers tightening.

“Look at me, button.”

My eyes open, but I can’t do more than a squint, because there’s still a dull ache in my brain. His pretty green eyes run over me, fingers stroking my cheeks. “You don’t believe in what he’s doing.”

“Don’t you?” I shoot back. “You’re at every one of his rallies and fundraisers, Jude. Why would that be if you don’t support his policies?”

His jaw tenses for a moment, and then he sighs. “We have our reasons, Haven.”

“And I have mine.” It’s just that my reason is that I literally don’t have a choice, and they absolutely do. Still, everything they’ve shown me in the last three days tells me they don’t actually believe what my father preaches. I sigh and grip his wrists before tilting my head to kiss each of his palms. “I don’t want to fight with you.”

He arches a brow, and his lips twitch. “We aren’t fighting.”

I blow out a breath and slump into him, forehead pressing into his chest. Jude doesn’t hesitate to wrap me in his arms and tug me onto his lap. We sit there for the longest time, his lips pressed into my hair until eventually he says, “So dinner?”

Maybe I shouldn’t have said yes. But I really wanted to. As soon as the words left my mouth, that dull ache behind my eyes intensified, and I had to run upstairs to take far more pain killers than is recommended, just so I could follow through on dinner.

I’d expected them to take me somewhere fancy and had been prepared to change into a dress and heels, but Creed had taken one look at me in leggings and his hoodie and said I looked good. Hale had confirmed there was no reason for me to change.

Now I understand why. They brought me to a little pizza place.

Literally, the tiniest little hole in the wall restaurant I’ve ever seen. The four alphas with me only make it seem all that much smaller.

Still, we’re ushered to a table near the back, away from the windows, and Jude is sure to position me facing away from them, so anyone passing by won’t have a clue who I am. Though, with my hair in a messy top knot and wearing a hoodie three sizes too large for me, I doubt many people will recognize me.

“What do you want, angel?” Tic asks, opening his menu.

I shift in my seat, still looking around the adorable little place. I’ll have to bring Ren and her family here the next time I get the chance. Ginny will love it. “Haven?”

I blink back to the table to find them all looking at me expectantly. “What? Oh. Hmm, I’m not picky. I’ll eat anything.”

It’s the truth, but they all laugh. “Right. Because omegas are notoriously not picky.” Omegas are notoriously picky. They like what they like and if they don’t get it, they throw temper tantrums or pout.

I don’t have that luxury.

I shrug. “What do you want me to say? I go to a lot of dinners with my father and it’s not as if he’ll allow me to send back something I don’t like. If I don’t eat what’s put in front of me, I don’t eat at all.”

I don’t even notice anymore. Food isn’t something I get pleasure out of. It hasn’t been for a long time.

I don’t know why that seems to bother them—as far as I know, that’s a pretty typical parenting tactic—but it does. Creed leans across the table. “What kind of pizza do you like, baby girl?”

My eyes flick over the menu, taking in the options, but not really reading them. “I’m, um, not a huge fan of red sauce. So maybe something with pesto?”

“No red sauce, got it.” Hale nods, reading his menu.

“You guys can eat red sauce.”

“Nope, we want you to have options. So we’ll get pizzas without red sauce.”

Stubborn.

In the end, we get two pizzas without and one with.

They entertain me with stories about their time together as a pack. When I ask how they met, how they became pack, Hale waves away the question. “That’s not an interesting story. Let me tell you about the time…”

But it is interesting. I want to know everything about them, and how they became a pack is a huge part of what makes them who they are. But I know not all stories are happy ones, and maybe this is one of those moments. Maybe their origin story is tragic and they aren’t ready to tell me about it.

I can only hope at some point they’ll feel comfortable enough to share.

I’ve just finished my first slice of pizza—chicken, spinach, roasted garlic, feta and pesto—when Hale blindsides me. “Tell me about your mother.”

I blink at the seemingly incongruous change of topic.

“What?”

“Your mother,” Hale repeats, sliding another slice of pizza onto my plate. “Tell us about her.”

“I-uh-I don’t really talk about her much.” I glance at the other pack members and find them all watching me closely. Even Creed, who hasn’t really looked at me since he demanded to know what type of pizza I like.

“Your father doesn’t either,” Jude says, cupping his chin in his palm. “Why is that?”

“If she doesn’t want to talk about it,” Creed grumbles. “We shouldn’t force her to.”

The gruff way he’s standing up for me sets me a little more at ease and I wave my hand. “It’s okay. It’s not like anything I tell you is going to end up in the media, right?”

“Right,” Tic says firmly. “We’re just trying to get to know you.”

The tension melts from me. This makes sense. This is normal. Getting to know people means asking about their families, their childhoods, their favorite colors and their hobbies.

I nod and run the tip of my finger along the side of my plate. “There’s… Well, there’s not a lot to tell, really. She was young when she met my father, barely seventeen. He was ten years older than her.” I flick my gaze up at that, because unless I’m wrong, that’s about the age difference between all of us. Though I’m not seventeen and sometimes I feel older than my twenty-two years. “It raised a lot of eyebrows, but my parents said it was love at first sight, so who could argue with that?”

“She was a beta?” Hale asks.

I nod. “Yes. My father wouldn’t marry any other designation, given his beliefs. She didn’t have any family to protest, so they got married quickly, before she was even eighteen. She got pregnant with me six months later.”

Jude has a furrow between his brows. “Was she a good mother?”

I keep my eyes focused on my plate. “She was the best mother… until she wasn’t. At least, I think she was.” I glance up again and then back down, shifting in my chair uncomfortably. “My memory of her is kind of hazy. But I remember she used to make me chicken noodle soup when I wasn’t feeling well, from scratch.” I grimace at the memory, because it's not exactly unique. I’m sure half of their mothers did the same for them. “It was the best, it felt like a hug in a bowl. But it's… it's kind of one of the only things I remember. She left when I was six. On my birthday.”

“What?” Creed snaps out like he can’t believe someone would do that.

I shrug and try to pretend like it doesn’t hurt even after all these years. “I’m not sure why she left, only that she did. She packed a bag and disappeared. My father looked for her, tried to find her, but no one’s been able to find a trace. She just vanished. He filed a missing person’s report, and after a few years everyone just… stopped looking. It’s-well, she’s presumed dead. So my father is a widower legally.”

“Do you think that’s what happened?” Hale asks. “Do you think she died?” I try not to flinch at the question but am unsuccessful. Creed makes a growling noise and Hale winces. “Sorry, mouse. That came out wrong.”

I lick my lips. “It’s a valid question. If I had a better memory, I might be able to give you a better answer, but all I know for certain is she was there one day, gone the next, and my father told me she left.”

She left, and she didn’t take me with her. She left me with him .

Knowing what I know now, how my father treats me, I suspect she was also drowning under alpha commands. He probably barked her into marrying him, barked her into a relationship with him, and she probably left in the middle of the night to get away from him.

I sincerely hope she’s alive and well somewhere overseas, living her best life, maybe in love with someone new. Maybe with a new family.

I only wish she’d taken me with her.

But I can understand why she didn’t.

“What’s her name?” Tic asks.

“Elise.” Her name comes out a little choked. I don’t say it all that often. Why would I? Unless a journalist asks my father about her, he never talks about his wife. “Elise Berocto.”

The four of them exchange a look that I don’t understand, and then Hale nudges my plate with one of his thick fingers. “You should eat more.”

I should, but I don’t think I can. Talking about my mother is never easy, even after sixteen years. For all intents and purposes, she abandoned me, left me so easily when she left my father.

Now my stomach is all tied in knots and the pizza I’d managed to eat before this line of questioning is sitting like a brick in my guts.

I leave the slice where it is and look up at the Calloway pack. “What about you? What are your families like?”

“Not worth talking about,” Hale brushes off my question. Disappointment sinks its teeth in.

“Do you not like the pizza?” Tic asks, brow furrowed, eyes on my plate. “Do you want me to order you something else?”

I shake my head. “No, it’s delicious. I just-” I don’t want to tell them that talking about my mother messed with my hunger. The last thing I want is for them to feel bad about it. “I’m stuffed, if I’m honest. I don’t usually eat a lot.”

It’s the truth. In order to battle my body’s natural curvaceousness, I’ve been ordered to limit my calorie intake. It’s not an actual command, but a nutritionist who is paid to keep me skinny prepares all my meals.

“You only had one slice.” Creed points out. “You’re too thin. You should eat more.”

I can’t tell if he’s being caring or insulting. Based on our interactions so far, I think it’s the latter.

“Don’t you know it’s rude to comment on how much a lady eats and her weight?”

Tic reaches across the table and squeezes my fingers. “We’re just trying to take care of you, angel. It’s what alphas do.”

I deflate somewhat at his gentle tone. “I appreciate that.”

“Can you eat one more slice for us, mouse?” They’re all looking at me expectantly, making my stomach twist even more.

“I really am full.”

“That’s impossible, bellybutton. One slice is not enough to fill up anyone. I’ve had five.”

Five. Jesus, where does he put it all? His stomach is still flat and rippling with muscle. I know this because Jude smirks and pulls up his shirt to show off all those abs, patting them to draw my attention to them. “I’m a growing boy. Need the sustenance.”

There is no stopping my eye roll, even as my face flushes bright red. Not with embarrassment. Oh no, with arousal. Because, good god, I want to lick every single ridge on his stomach, his chest. Probably his entire body.

“Put your shirt down,” Creed growls at him. Jude laughs as he does, and I can’t stop the sound of disappointment I make. Tiny, but audible.

Jude’s smile grows. “Don’t worry, button. I’ll walk around shirtless at home.”

Hale mutters something under his breath I can’t make out and then tugs my chair closer to his. I squeal as he lifts me onto his lap, holding me against his chest. One of his big hands slips under the hem of my hoodie, splaying over the skin of my belly, the soft curve there. The other he uses to drag my plate in front of us, then he lifts the slice of pizza and holds it to my lips.

“Eat, omega.” It’s not a command, more like a gentle urging. One that makes me want to listen to him. But still I hesitate. Sitting on his lap, inhaling his scent, helps, but my insides are still knotted.

“Just one more slice, angel,” Tic assures me.

“If we can get you to eat two more, we will,” Creed grumbles.

Jude arches his brows at me, his smile firmly in place and so encouraging. Hale’s fingers stroke back and forth over my skin, tracing patterns, unknowingly untangling the mess inside me with every caress.

“Please, little mouse,” he whispers in my ear. “Let us take care of you.”

Giving in, I lean back against him and part my lips.

And let me tell you, it’s never felt so good to be taken care of.