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“We need to get you warm, omega mine. You’re shivering. Curl into me. Take my warmth, my strength, my love. Let me soothe you and your turtle. Let me be the alpha you need.” He kissed the back of my head, and I rolled into him and let him pick up the pieces.

Again.

Just like last time and the time before.

It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair to Colton. But I was weak, and I loved him. I’d continue to do this over and over again until it broke us both. It wasn’t right for either of us, but it was all I could do.

Leaving him wasn’t an option. My turtle wouldn’t allow it. And even if he did, I couldn’t bear it.

Something would work out. It had to. We couldn’t keep living like this. We just couldn’t.

But what other choice did we have?

And as if he could see inside my mess of a head, Colton said, “You’re enough, Mateo. You’re more than enough. You’re my love, and my mate. My life is only complete because you’re in it. I love you.”

I stayed silent, afraid of what might come from my mouth, and eventually fell asleep in his arms.

I didn’t deserve him, and he surely deserved better than me.

2

COLTON

My body moved in slow motion while I replaced a light bulb on the porch. The blustery wintery weather wasn’t helping my mood. I gazed out to sea, the gray expanse of water stretching toward the horizon.

I used to be beyond the horizon, working on a yacht most of the time and only returning to Mateo a few times a year. His friends thought I was an alpha who couldn’t commit, and I suspected they urged him not to wait for me. But he did, and, when I was done with that itinerant lifestyle, he welcomed me back with open arms.

And after working on tourist boats for a while, a job where I came home each night, a temporary offer arrived to take care of the Shore’s Home B&B. With Lennox, the B&B owner, away so much with his mate and daughter, we bought a share of the B&B and our stay became permanent. We no longer lived in Mateo’s cramped cabin on his friend Caspian's land, but we kept it for when we needed an escape.

It was a complete one-eighty from sailing around the world, but I loved it, as I adored Mateo, my now mate. As well as continuing to build the business, we planned on having a family.

All our friends had kids. When we met up for a potluck or a watchalong of Shifter World—our favorite soap opera—there were babies spilling out of baby carriers, strollers, and cribs. The older ones who were crawling or toddling around acted like mini escape artists, copying their dads when they cursed!

I wanted that, and so did Mateo. But each month we tried, it ended in floods of tears and my omega thinking he wasn’t good enough for me. I’d never leave him, not that I could. Nor did I want to. We were bonded for life, but he lived in fear that somehow I’d sever the link between us.

It had been almost a month since I’d found him huddled in the shower, the cold water pelting his fully clothed body. I dreaded him taking another test.

There was a cycle, not only within his body but emotionally. Stage one was straight after taking the test. He would hide under the covers for a day, only getting out of bed to use the bathroom. The next step was him working behind the scenes at the inn, not wanting to interact with the guests. Then he’d gain confidence and say, “Maybe next time I’ll get pregnant.” That was when he’d revert to the wisecracking, blurting-out-anything-that-came-into-his-head omega I’d fallen in love with.

But as the day drew closer for the next test, he’d withdraw, the weight of that possible negative result squeezing the joy out of him until he’d gasp and grab his chest as if he couldn’t breathe.

I shivered as a gust of wind swept in from the coast. I almost welcomed it. It had me experiencing something other thandespair. While I wanted a family as much as my mate, trying and continually failing was splintering my heart. Each month, another piece would break off. We were hamsters running on a wheel, unable to get off even though we were going nowhere.

We’d reached a point where we had to stop trying, and that meant giving up on being fathers. Words were easy and cheap, but I had no idea how we would get to a place of acceptance.

“Big storm coming.” Mateo braved the wind and joined me on the porch, a blanket wrapped around him. I draped my arm over his shoulders and held him close, his familiar scent, which reminded me of cinnamon, filling my nostrils.

“Better have propane lamps at the ready,” I replied. Candles were much more romantic during a power outage but, in an older wooden building, a candle might be left too close to a curtain or knocked over, and the inn would be an inferno before the fire department could get here.

Snow had been falling since last night, and the grounds of the inn were picture-postcard beautiful. The film crew staying with us had spent time in the garden taking selfies.

Winter was usually our quiet time. A respite from the summers when we worked eighteen-hour days. It was sort of our way of hibernating, resting during the cold months, replenishing and storing our energy for spring.

Our town had been graced with a crew and reality show participants. TV reality shows had audiences lapping them up and demanding more. More series plus more bad behavior from the participants equaled ratings gold. Production companies loved reality TV because the costs were much smaller than producing a drama series or comedy.

The crew was staying with us while the contestants were up the hill with Maude Jenkins at her B&B.

My mind went to the food in our pantry and large freezer. If the storm was so severe, it blocked roads, our guests wouldn’t be able to go out and film. People confined inside because of bad weather tended to be irritable, and that led to arguments. Other than playing cards and board games, food was the best way of pacifying them.