12. Baby Steps

Chapter Twelve

BABY STEPS

Indy

L ooking myself over in the mirror one final time, I lean in and try to really see the girl standing there in the reflection.

Any experience I’ve had with a mirror before now was mostly performance based.

Well, it was needed because of some sort of performance based event.

If the Harden’s decided to have a party, one where their wealthiest and most notable alphas came to see the inventory, I had to make sure I looked as presentable as possible. Even if I was already being bred by a pack, I still had to look nice because the herder usually put me out front.

Between my eyes and the unique coloring of my hair, they always figured I was a draw. They assumed that if new clients could see an omega like me, they’d be more likely to work with them instead of going straight to an auction or some lesser known competitor.

I’m not terrible to look at, I suppose, and my eyes are my favorite physical trait. But I didn’t understand why I was put out front when I’d never been successfully bred. I still don’t, if I’m being honest.

Despite that, I had to make sure my slip was clean, that my face and hair were as perfect as I could make them, and that I held myself like a Harden omega. Whatever the hell that meant.

I figured it just fed into the ranch’s reputation or something but asking questions was dangerous, and refusing to do what I was told was even more so.

So, I’d huddle around the one full length mirror in the main hall of our stall with the rest of the omegas who were chosen, all of us trying our best to look the part, then we were paraded in front of all those alphas like prey for rabid predators.

Foster and Hall at least kept them from touching me. Not that I want to give them a lot of credit after my last night at the ranch, but they kept me from being groped by strangers.

Most of the time.

I close my eyes and shudder as that memory races to the forefront of my mind, the one time Hall came with his previous pack, and a series of terrible things happened at one of the Harden’s parties.

Do not go there.

Shaking my head, I blow out a breath and finish making sure I look ok.

Aside from getting ready to essentially be shown off as some sort of livestock, the other time I had to use a mirror was just as bad and disgustingly similar, and yet, very different.

The pack before Foster and Hall, the one Hall was originally part of then forcibly took over—apparently they were ready to throw me away when he wasn’t, so he handled things in a completely out of left field way—they made me do some of the most vile things I’ve ever been forced to do. And it all happened in one, single, awful night.

Hall made me do those things and seemingly forgot all about them when he met Foster.

He was a monster before they met, one I was genuinely afraid of for a long time, and I think somewhere in the back of my mind, he’s why I was still leery about being with them, even if Foster was his complete opposite.

I’m sure it wasn’t as bad as some, I know it wasn’t, but that night at that party, it was both the first and last time anything like that happened. It marked a chapter I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget.

One I’m thankful has long since ended.

A soft knock on the bedroom door pulls me from my thoughts, and has me instantly fighting a smile.

It’s Nash.

Not only do I know it’s him and no one else because Mona doesn’t knock anymore, and Clayton raps his knuckles against the wood in some sort of new and unusual pattern every time he comes to see me, but I can smell his honey and chamomile scent through the door.

He does throw it the way Clayton said, and it’s one of the most calming combinations that has ever hit my nose.

Plus, after weeks of coaxing me, Nash is taking me into town today so I can visit their shops, and see their horses.

Which is really what convinced me to go.

I’ve never seen a horse up close, but I always loved watching them run when I was allowed to go outside. That’s why I agreed to time away from the cabin and in town.

I will admit, Nash was scarier than Clay at first.

He’s bigger, taller, and he has a beard in addition to all of the tattoos, so to look at him, you’d think he was a serious threat. He doesn’t say a lot, not really, and when he does, the mild manner he seems to have actually comes off rather menacing.

But there’s something about Nash, not just his scent, that put me at ease almost immediately.

He’s shy.

For a very large alpha who Clayton kept calling a dickhead, Nash is actually shy, and I get the impression he doesn’t really know how to behave around females.

Well, females who aren’t in their late eighties like Mona, anyway.

There’s a strange level of naivety, an almost innocent quality to his behavior, and while I haven’t gotten into their dynamics or much of anything else in our very few encounters, I’d say Nash hasn’t had many, if any, relationships like what he has with Clayton.

My face flames and I instantly turn back to the mirror.

God, my cheeks are red.

Not that I think Nash and I, or Clay and I, or whoever are going to have a relationship. I don’t know the first thing about any of that aside from what my mother told me of her time with my father. I wouldn’t even know where to start, and it’s stupid to think those men feel anything other than pity when they see me.

But… I can’t help the way my stomach flips when they do come to see me.

After Clay showed me how to buy things online, he came to visit every day.

We didn’t shop every time, we just talked a lot. Well, Clay talked a lot, and I listened because I don’t want to talk about me, I’d rather learn about the things I’ve missed by living at the ranch, and find out everything he’s willing to share with me. Which wasn’t the one thing I really wanted to know, after he showed me his leg I had a lot of questions I wanted to ask and didn’t, but he told me about living in Alaska, and when he met his alphas.

I giggled when he said that, and so did he, but not for the same reason and when he told me he was a beta and he had alphas, I went from thinking it was a funny way of wording things to being excited to meet a beta because I hadn’t before.

That, of course, made me feel silly.

Because not only do I not know what it’s like to be in a relationship, or anything else they obviously share, but I also have no idea how to interact with someone who isn’t paying for my company, so every little thing seems new and amazing. Like finding out there’s a beta in the house I’m staying at, and I proved just how stunted I am by acting stupid over designations and pairings. Which is exactly that. Stupid.

Clayton didn’t think anything of it, though, and took it as an invitation to talk my ear off a couple hours a day, every day, about his alphas until I agreed to meet with Nash.

That was over a week ago.

I’ve lost track of how much time I’ve been here, living in this house full of strangers while I heal, praying that no one kicks me out because I’ve overstayed my welcome, but I know it’s stopped snowing. It’s still very cold but there haven’t even been any flurries since the day I met Clay. And I know I sat and had a conversation with Clayton and Nash a little over a week ago because it was the first time the sun came out since I’ve been here, and I felt some weird shift in energy when it was the three of us.

It’s the only way I can explain it.

A shift.

Not in the literal sense but the two of them together, the three of us spending time in my room, it felt very normal, and like it was supposed to be that way. Even if there’s still a small part of me that keeps acknowledging there’s something missing.

“Indy?” The soft knock raps against the door again. “Uhm.. It’s Nash.”

I roll my eyes as I get ready to let him in but pause when I see a smile break out on my face, a real one that’s become more and more involuntary lately. Genuine, but involuntary.

Maybe I do need to look up Stockholm Syndrome.

I asked Mona what it was after Clayton mumbled something about it a few days ago, something about how that’ll be the only way for this to work, whatever that meant, but she said I didn’t need to worry about that. Not with fate in my corner, or something else ominous the adorable old woman said. I’m starting to wonder if I shouldn’t look it up, though, because I felt like Clay was applying it to me, and I need to know why. Especially if it somehow holds any weight over whether or not I can keep staying here.

Sure, I don’t have anywhere else to go, but I really care for Mona, and I’ve found myself itching to spend more time with Clayton and Nash the second they leave me alone for the night.

“Look, Indy.” Nash clears his throat, the floor on the other side of the door creaking as he no doubt shifts back and forth on his feet. “If you changed your mind… If you don’t want to go into?—“

I spin from the mirror and practically run toward the door, grabbing the knob and twisting before I yank it open and make us both jump. “No.”

Nash blinks wide, grass green eyes, then frowns. “No, you don’t want to go into town?”

“No,” I say, a little out of breath as I shake my head. “No, I want to.”

“So, you do still want to go into town?” I nod as he scrubs a hand over his hair and blows out a breath. “You’re sure? Because I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this for some reason.”

“I don’t.”

He eyes me skeptically. “Clayton didn’t pressure you, did he?”

Nash has asked me that several times since I agreed to this, but Clay had nothing to do with it. They have horses, that’s honestly why I agreed to leave the house but I haven’t told either of them that because I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings.

Which, oddly enough, is a first for me.

I’ve been in some sort of fight or flight mode for so long, the only time I ever thought about someone other than my mother, was when I was worried about how their presence was going to affect me. What they were going to do to me, how I would end up feeling after they left. I felt like I couldn’t think about anyone other than myself for fear of letting my guard down long enough to get hurt.

Even with Scarlett.

She might be the only one I considered a friend up until now, and I can count on one hand the number of times I hugged her, but I wasn’t worried for her until the day they tried to kill me. Before that? Once she got pregnant, when they moved her away from me, I was more concerned about what that meant for me. If I didn’t think of myself, no one else would.

No one else did.

And I can’t remember a time when my fight or flight mode wasn’t active.

Since I woke up in this room, I haven’t felt that way once.

Restless, anxious, nervous, and a little scared, but not because I feel like any of the people I’ve met are going to hurt me. I should probably be concerned about how easily I accepted my new surroundings and the people in them, but that hasn’t really been something I want to get into, either.

If I start analyzing every little thing that’s different about being here, I won’t be able to accept it, and that means it would be a matter of time before I unraveled and somehow found my way back to the Harden’s hell hole. Not intentionally, but I’m not willing to jinx my situation by overthinking any of it, nor am I willing to switch into flight mode right now.

I’m away from the ranch, I’m safe, and I feel cared about for the first time since they took Mom from me. I like that this is my new and current normal, and I don’t particularly want it to change any time soon.

“He didn’t,” I say as I take a deep breath. “Clay has barely brought it up since I agreed.”

Nash stares at me for a few moments, his eyes soft but definitely searching and when he seems to find what he was looking for, he pushes his glasses up his nose and nods. “Nan left a parka for you.”

He turns from the doorway and walks across the hallway to another, disappearing around the corner, and briefly out of view.

I smooth the front of my sweatshirt as I step into the threshold, stuffing my hands in the pocket and clasping them tightly behind the fleece.

This is the first time I’ve seen more than my room, or the narrow tunnel of vision created when the door is open.

Looking left, I see a window at the end of the hall, the dark curtains parted to let some of the morning sun through. To my right, the hallway seems to run almost the entire length of the house. There are two more openings like the one across from me, all three on that side of the hall, another three doors on the same side as my room, and a staircase at the end.

Everything is made of wood; dark, rich tones between the floor and the walls, and there are small, light fixtures running along the top that I know give off a relatively soft glow from when Mona visited at night.

“I don’t think you’ll need this, not with the layers you already have on.” Nash appears across from me again, a frown on his face. “Are you coming?”

Straightening my spine, I step out of the room I’ve spent weeks hiding in, looking back and forth down the hall before I bridge the gap between spaces.

“Yeah,” he says as he looks at me then the puffy coat in his hands. “I told Nan this was going to be too heavy.”

Ignoring everything he’s saying because he’s not talking to me anyway, I slowly walk further into the room, passing Nash before I stop and slowly turn in a circle.

The only reason I have any knowledge of what these rooms are for is from my time spent at the main house of the ranch for those parties, but this is nothing like the one I’ve been in before.

I can’t say this is necessarily a dining room, not in the sense that it’s separated from everything else with a long, imposing table and chairs, and filled with objects I can’t touch and food I’m not allowed to eat. It’s actually attached to the kitchen, nothing more than a walkway in between spaces with a door going outside to the left, and one that leads to the rest of the house to the right.

There’s a wood burning stove in the corner—I know what that is because we had them in the stables—a quaint table with four chairs in the center, and a cabinet looking thing by the entrance to the next room. That makes this a dining room area in my book. Especially attached to the kitchen, which isn’t sprawling and busy, not like the one at the ranch, but I find that I like the coziness to it a lot more than if it were a huge, echoey room.

“Nan said she measured your foot.”

Frowning, I turn to Nash and blink. “What?”

He clears his throat and fiddles with the box in his hands. “To get your size.” He nods toward my sock-covered feet and I look down. “So I could buy you boots.”

My cheeks heat as another of those involuntary smiles take over my face, and I lift my head in time to see Nash’s do the same behind his beard.

It’s really hard to be afraid of someone who’s so shy, and definitely more awkward than me.

“You bought those for me?” He nods and opens his mouth to clearly respond with something silly, like how he can return them if I don’t like them, or any number of similar things because he’s been saying them every time he brings me something new, but I quickly grab the box out of his hands and move to one of the chairs at the table. “I love them.”

Nash chews the inside of his cheek as he fights a smile. “You haven’t even seen them yet.”

“Doesn’t matter.” I shrug one shoulder as I lift the lid and set it on the table before peeling back the paper to reveal boots that look sort of like the ones he’s wearing, only smaller. “It was thoughtful.”

Without a word, or seemingly any thought at all, Nash walks over and stops next to me, motions for me to sit, then drops to his knees as soon as I do. My eyes widen as he reaches into the box and removes one boot, pulling off the tag and loosening the laces before he glances up at me. Nash maintains eye contact as he gently grabs my foot, carefully sliding it into the thick lining before placing the sole against his thigh, tightening and tying it after checking to make sure my toes are where they should be.

He does the same with my other foot, watching my face intently while doing such a minor task but it doesn’t stop my heart from racing while I keep myself from breaking his stare.

I have absolutely no idea why Nash is doing this for me, or why I’m not terrified that he’s touching me, but those are both fleeting thoughts as he fixes the cuffs of my sweatpants, tugging, and folding then tucking so they aren’t bunched up in the top of my boots.

This is stupid. Men have touched me before, more times than I could ever count but something about his gentleness, how there’s almost a reverence in the way Nash is handling me, how I can tell how badly he wants to do this for me? It’s more intimate than anything I’ve ever experienced before, and it has my stomach flipping while my cheeks flame.

“They feel ok?” He asks, his eyes never leaving mine.

I nod as I lick my suddenly dry lips. “Yes.”

“I didn’t tie them too tight?”

“No.”

Nash smiles a little as his stare drops to my mouth. “Good.”

Oh my goodness, I feel like I’m on fire.

No sooner does that thought run through my head before Nash is quickly getting to his feet and taking a step back as he blows out a breath.

“I bought this for you.” I watch as he walks into the hallway, getting to my feet as I hear a door open and close before he comes back holding something colored in reds, white, and black. “It’ll be better over what you’re wearing on a day like today.”

A flannel coat.

Nash bought me a flannel coat that matches his and Clayton’s, I’ve seen both men wearing them, and he’s kind enough to help me into it before he actually buttons the front.

Blinking quickly, I fight the tears that want to form along my lashes, and try to bury the way my nose stings but when he reaches into the pocket and takes out a black beanie then gently pulls it down over my head, it’s useless.

Men don’t dress us.

We aren’t allowed to wear clothes most of the time and if we do, they undress us so fast it’s like we never had anything on at all.

I’m an omega, my life has never been my own, and neither has my body. The right to protect it, to keep it hidden, or show it off if I wanted to, to make the choice as to who gets to see it or touch it, was all taken from me before I could even comprehend that it was wrong.

In thirty-two years, I’ve barely been treated like a human being.

An omega bitch to breed. Three holes to fill with alpha dick. That’s all I ever was to anyone except my mother. I wasn’t worth healing, I wasn’t worth keeping, or saving. But in a matter of a measly few months, Mona, Clayton, and Nash, this entire house full of people who didn’t have to pull me out of that ravine let alone do what they’ve actually done… They’ve made me feel like I’m more than what I’ve been told my entire life.

Which is why one single tear rolls down my cheek while I stare at Nash, and say, “Thank you.”

“Indy?” His brow furrows and his glasses slide down his nose.

I quickly force a smile as I sniffle, swiping at my face while I giggle nervously, turning toward the back door like I know where I’m going. “I bet Clayton is wondering where we are.”

I cringe as I throw open the screen door and step onto the porch.

How the hell would I know what Clay, or anyone else, is thinking about shit?

Despite their kindness and strange familiarity, I don’t know these men, and saying things like that is presumptuous as hell. It’s also rather stupid but I’ll berate myself for that later.

“He is,” Nash says slowly as he steps outside, fiddling with the door before he stands next to me. “He just sent me his forty-seventh text in the last two hours.”

“Oh.”

“Do you know what a text is?”

I shake my head. I have no fucking clue what that is but it isn’t the first time I’ve heard the word in that context.

He steps into my space, a little closer than before, and holds out his phone—Mona explained that to me—so I can see it. Nash taps and swipes the screen before I see Clayton’s name along with a few others I recognize in something labeled messages, and after another tap, I can’t help but smile over all the texts.

It isn’t quite forty-seven, but there are a lot, and most of them have to do with me coming into town.

“We’ll get you something like this,” Nash says as another message from Clayton pops up. “You might not want to give Clay your number, but we can get you a phone when you’re ready and then…”

Judging by the way he glances at me and then does a double take, Nash must think I look insane but in less than a minute, I’ve been made to feel more important than I ever have, and I’m grinning like an idiot because of it.

Right up until I see a bubble drop down from the top of the screen, with a message that makes my stomach twist.

brAM: Hunting this weekend. You think you can leave the invalid long enough to get some fucking work done? Or do I need to ask that omega for your balls back already?

Nash quickly pulls his phone out of my line of sight, but the damage is already done.

That was exactly what I was worried about. I’ve overstayed my welcome, and this Bram wants me gone so they can get back to whatever life was before I got here.

My heart starts to race, my pulse pounding in my ears while they simultaneously start to ring. I clench my jaw then immediately start biting my nails, pacing myself right off the porch and over the hard, uneven ground in the yard. Spots start to blur my vision as my anxiety slams into me, taking over at a record speed as I?—

“Hey.” The voice is soft and deep, it’s soothing and right next to my ear. “Indy, look at me, sweetheart.” I can’t see anyone, though, not until I feel gentle pressure on my shoulders, squeezing briefly before moving up and down my arms. “Indigo.”

My breathing automatically matches the movements; slow and steady, rhythmic and calming. The ringing in my ears has faded to a low hum and as I blink repeatedly, the spots disappear, and I’m left looking into the very worried face of the only alpha I’ve ever been grateful for.

“Hi,” I whisper, and he smiles.

“Hi.”

“I’m ok.”

Nash arches a brow. “You sure?”

“Yeah.” I nod slowly.

“Still want to go into town? We don’t have to if?—“

Since this could very well be the one and only time I ever get to go into any town, I try to push my panic down deep and smile. “I still want to.”

And with that, Nash doesn’t say another word, he just nods, leads me to a big truck, and helps me inside before taking me on what might be the first and only adventure I get to go on.

“Ok, she’s playing with Lucy in my office while Nan tries to make an espresso. What the hell has you so up in arms?”

Clay pulls the curtains closed on the room furthest from where Indy is, trying to keep the most distance between us right now in this small fucking shop.

Not that the square footage ever mattered before. No, it only makes a goddamn difference when our omega is in the other room, already anxious and hurt over what the fuck her scent match said via text message. And I need to explain it to my beta without yelling, and somehow keep myself in check so I can show Indy my shop and the horses, all while trying to keep my head from exploding.

I know this has been hard on Bramley.

Finding your scent match nearly frozen to death in a pile of rotting flesh and bare bones is definitely not an easy pill to swallow. Especially if you have Ambrose blood running through your veins but Jesus fuck, I’m one more shitty comment away from spilling said blood.

And yeah, I know why things have picked up, I know why Bram is acting like a bigger asshole than I’ve ever seen him, but if he’s not careful, he’s going to do something irreversible and when he does, he’s going to lose a lot more than his fucking match.

His entire future, our entire future is on the line but if he doesn’t change his fucking attitude, he’s going to be lucky to see tomorrow let alone beyond that.

“Nash,” Clayton hisses as he grabs my arms, stopping me mid-pace as he forces me to look at him. “What is going on, baby?”

I shake my head and grit my teeth, trying to school my tone before I try to speak. “I’m going to fucking kill him, Clay.”

“Who?” His brow furrows as he starts rubbing up and down my biceps. “I need more than that if I’m going to?—“

“Bramley fucking Ambrose,” I growl, breaking free from his grip before I yank my phone from my pocket and pull up that goddamn text.

I shove it in Clay’s face then feel myself get even more pissed as he says, “Yeah, so, he’s being a shithead. He’s been nothing but a shithead since he emerged from his mother’s womb. What more do you?—“

“Indy saw it.”

My beta freezes, a look of shock painting his features briefly before I see it morph into something terrifying and beautiful.

This is the look Clayton gets when we go hunting. It’s the look he gets when he thinks about Maeve and what happened to her, Gramma Lily, and Grampa George. This expression is the one I see my beta wear when he’s stripping skin from muscle, when he’s flaying someone’s insides, and if it wasn’t super fucking inappropriate, I’d fuck him right here on the table in his tattoo room but this is not the time nor is it the place.

At least, not with our omega down the hall.

“I need you to occupy Indy.”

Clayton practically growls as his eyes dart toward the hall.

“Clay, honey,” I say as I grab the collar of his shirt and pull him toward me, forcing him to look me in the eye and come back down to earth. “Tell me you can hear what I’m saying.”

He just stares at me but sees nothing so I grip the sides of his neck and start running my thumbs back and forth over his erratic pulse.

I didn’t realize he was going to get so angry.

Granted, if I didn’t have Indy with me, I would have driven right to Bram and taken care of shit, but this flipped the psycho switch on Clay, and I’m a little surprised by it.

Not that I should be.

She might not be our direct match like she is with Bramley, but Indigo is our match nonetheless, and that means we have pretty strong feelings for her already. And Clayton has been downright obsessed ever since she let him into her room the first time, but still.

He doesn’t get psycho-angry with us.

It’s never quite like this but I can see the murder in his eyes right now and while it really is sexy as fuck, I’ve got to put a lid on it for both of our sake.

“Clayton,” I say firmly. Why the hell am I having to talk everyone down today? “You hear me? I need you to spend time with Indy for a little while so I can go handle that.”

Slowly, as if he’s coming out of a trance, my beta starts to nod, blinking a few times before I can tell he finally hears what I’m saying. “Ok, yeah, I can keep her here. I’ll keep her busy.”

I give him the are you sure look, still stroking his pulse until it’s as close to normal as he’s going to get right now.

“I’ll let her tattoo me.”

Without warning, I bark out a short laugh. “What?”

Clay shrugs his shoulders and grins. “She’ll be fascinated with the machine when I show her how it works, and after she takes it apart and puts it back together, I’ll let her tattoo me.” Then he wags his eyebrows. “It’s a good excuse for her to touch me, and we’re going to be needing more of those if what Nan says is true.”

Ignoring everything he’s implying, I dip my chin and kiss this jackass of a man because I really do love him, and he’s the only thing keeping me somewhat grounded while our pack is in turmoil. Sure, he’s also been driving me nuts, but Clayton’s mostly been a rock as of late.

He’s the only thing keeping Bramley out of a coma, too.

“This is going to pass,” he says against my lips. “It’s going to pass, and everything will be perfect.” I open my mouth but Clay sticks his tongue in it then laughs when I jerk my head back. “Everything will be perfect for us, the Harden’s will have another thing coming when a clear headed and refocused Pack Ambrose comes for them.”

I can only hope he’s right.

Ever since Indy has been here, The Butcher has been busy as fuck, but he’s starting to get messy.

Zeke and Tus have had to play cleanup crew more than once recently, and they’re starting to worry because in all his years doing this, Bram has never been messy.

Unhinged and messy? Yeah, that man could easily wipe out a town and just wait in the pools of blood for whatever happened next.

He isn’t sticking to his goal, isn’t chasing the end game anymore. If anything, Bramley is even more of a loose cannon than before, and if he blows it during one of his unplanned hunts, he’s going to single-handedly take down all of Obsidian Falls.

Killing him would make this a hell of a lot easier, but I happen to be in love with the dumb fuck, as is Clayton, and soon Indy will be as well. I can’t kill the bastard, but I’m gonna knock him around for a while until something fucking clicks inside that thick skull of his.

“I’ll be back.” I press a quick kiss to Clay’s lips then spin on my heel, pushing through the curtains and marching toward the door, but I stop.

Looking back over my shoulder, I debate on whether or not I should say goodbye to Indy.

“Just go, babe.” My beta shakes his head and smiles at me from the doorway. “I’ve got our girl, you go get our man.”

Here’s hoping I actually can.