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I’m staring at my computer screen, and I feel paralyzed for some reason. I wanted to write, and started my account to begin blogging, but I can’t seem to start the words.

Slumping back in my chair, I gaze out at the backyard. The real estate agent said that the owners maintained the garden right up until they sold, and now Cooper is keeping it going.

It’s beautiful out here. We’ve been in the house for two months now, and it’s one of my favorite parts of the property. Brick walls surround the entire garden and pavers wind through to give the illusion of a secret world among the flowers and trees.

So why can’t I write?

“Nina,” Cooper says, stepping outside. “You look a little dejected. What’s up?”

My alpha is always watching. He’s been working on a new house project, but I know he watches me out the window. Still stalking me.

Right this second, I love it because I am feeling a littlestumped.

“I’m stuck,” I pout. “I love coming out here to read and take notes, but now my brain feels locked up.”

“What if your brain is bored because it’s too quiet?” he asks. At my look, he smirks. “Princess, I know all of your quirks. You tend to listen to music when you want to block out the world in your nest. I think that background noise kickstarts your brain so it’s not too quiet.”

“Maybe,” I frown. “Okay, I’ll bite. What do you think will help?”

“Move spots,” he says immediately, pointing at the swing. “Your brain will think you’re doing something as you move back and forth. Then, play music or a podcast that’ll engage your brain while not making you pay attention to the words. Get your brain busy so you can write.”

“I swear, you have the manual down on me,” I sigh, standing.

Cooper just smirks as he helps me into the porch swing that he made for the backyard. There’s a breeze now that fall is moving in, and he covers my legs with a light blanket to help me get comfortable.

Picking up my water bottle, he frowns as he shakes it.

“I’m getting you more water,” he murmurs. “Riley also made some bread before he went to work. Do you want me to toast a piece and add hazelnut spread on it with some banana?”

I haven’t eaten much today and my stomach rumbles at the thought of eating the best piece of toast that’s ever been eaten.

“That sounds so good,” I whimper.

“I got you, Princess,” he promises. “I’ll be back.”

Cooper disappears back into the house as I smile after him. He’s so damn good to me. He’s also right. My head isn’t in the best shape to write if I’m hungry.

Opening up a browser, I scroll through podcasts on Omega Link and find someone called Little Rabbit.The name sounds vaguely familiar, but I don’t always trust my memories.

Turning on a podcast, I begin listening as I start my blog. Apiece of toast appears in front of my lips, and I take a bite without thinking, continuing to type. Cooper chuckles and walks away, but I’m already lost again to my words.

“Emilia Richardson has decided to host a dating event, and I think she’s the last person who should do that,”Little Rabbit says. My fingers stop moving as I catch this part, my nose wrinkling.

Fucking Emilia Richardson. God, I hate that woman so much.

“If something sounds too good to be true, it likely is. Who can say who the ‘right’ alphas are that you should be meeting? Status doesn’t always mean safety. The ugliest people sometimes come in the prettiest trappings,”she says. “I know what it’s like to want and wish for someone to look at me with adoration. I promise it’s out there. I just found it in a way I never thought I would.”

The Little Rabbit’s words help to fuel mine as I use my anger to put my thoughts together. I don’t really care if it sounds unhinged, because I doubt anyone is going to read it. They’re just the words of an omega, right?

The Little Rabbit’s podcast has an insane amount of views, but she’s anonymous and there’s a certain amount of allure when it comes to the unknown. I’m just me.

An omega with a shitload of trauma and some burgeoning anger issues.

The sky is darkening by the time my words run out, and I sigh as I close my laptop. I’ll have to edit it tomorrow, when I’m not so tired.

“Hey, Little One,” Riley says, coming outside. “I heard you’ve been hard at work. Can I tempt the writer into some food?”

“Yes, please,” I sigh. “Cooper tried to feed me, but I barely remember it.”