Page 32 of Follow the Rhythm (Fairview City Omegaverse #2)

F or the hundredth time, I considered calling Deb and Claire and telling them I wouldn’t be coming for a visit after all. But I knew it would break their hearts if I canceled, so I didn’t. When I’d offered to visit, I had pictured Jess coming with me and charming them completely.

The last thing I wanted to do was travel across an ocean without her. But despite my attempts to get information from Grace, I had heard nothing.

I’d only sent Jess one text the day after she’d left my flat: You still can’t scare me off .

But it had gone unanswered. She said she needed space, so I would respect that, even if it killed me.

And it was killing me. I woke up every day remembering the feeling of her in my arms and imagining that I could still smell her scent.

My dreams were hyper-detailed recreations of the smell of her perfume, the taste of her lips, the feel of her fluttering around my knot.

I only had to picture her that night, her long dark hair falling to the curve of her breasts, the look of sweet determination as she slowly took my cock, to get hard and aching for her.

I had known that if I had her, I’d be ruined for anyone else, and I was right. No one else would ever come close.

But I needed to come to terms with the fact that she truly didn’t want what I did. And if that was the case, putting an ocean permanently between us would be for the best.

Deb and Claire had been my first call after Ellis and I inked the buyout agreement with Echelon, releasing us from any further obligation and officially killing the tour.

They’d been disappointed to hear the tour was ending.

I hadn’t shied away from laying the blame at Ellis’s feet, but I felt guiltier than ever lying to them about the unreleased album. I owed them a visit.

I landed late morning in London, jetlagged as fuck, and made my way to Fulham, and the semi-detached home Michael and I had bought for his mums after our first album’s success.

It was a far cry from where we grew up in Tottenham.

We’d been so proud that we could give them a nice, private place to live.

“Hello, pet,” Claire said when she answered the door.

Her scent was a mix of jasmine and vanilla that immediately put me at ease, especially when she pulled me into an embrace.

She was Jamaican, with dark curls peppered with silver and cropped close to her skin, and nearly as tiny as Jess.

Michael had inherited her large dark eyes and curls, but her skin was a shade darker than his had been.

“Hiya,” Deb said heartily from the hallway behind Claire. She was blonde, now fading to silver, freckled, and much taller than her Omega at six feet. Her strong black tea and honey scent tickled my nose when she gave me a firm hug. “How was the flight?”

I recounted the journey to Deb while Claire made tea in their eat-in kitchen.

The door to the back garden was open. Late summer sunshine streamed in, and a soft breeze fluttered in the white linen curtains.

At the bottom of the garden, I could see the garden beds Michael had built when they first moved in.

Deb grew tomatoes, runner beans, and okra.

As usual, these memories of Michael caused a physical pain in my chest, like a clenched fist had replaced my heart.

“How’s Ellis?” Claire asked after I’d helped myself to some biscuits she’d laid out.

I furrowed my brow. “I’m sure he’s fine.”

Claire looked skeptical. She loved Ellis like a son too.

“Sounds like he needs some help,” Deb said.

“Trust me, I’ve tried,” I said, still scowling. “Any time we talk about Michael, he shuts down or acts like a total dick.”

Claire’s eyes swam with tears. “He’s grieving. Poor baby.”

Deb gripped her Omega’s hand tightly. Loss had defined their whole lives.

Don, the other Alpha in their pack, had died shortly after Michael was born.

Instead of a home filled with children and grandchildren, they were alone.

Ellis and I had done our best to be surrogate sons, Michael’s unofficial brothers, coming over for holidays and Sunday dinners.

The last time we’d been here, it was just after Michael’s funeral.

He’d been buried in a cemetery nearby so his mums could visit him whenever they wanted.

Grief had taken a toll on them; they both seemed to have aged five years in the last twelve months.

Deb’s hair was streaked with gray, and the lines around her eyes had deepened. Claire just seemed frail.

I was glad I’d come, and angry at Ellis all over again for not being with me.

After a quiet day around the house watching old episodes of Bargain Hunt and helping Deb with some plumbing work on the top floor, we had a quiet dinner.

Claire cooked rice and peas, plantains, and curried okra straight from the garden.

It was delicious, but Michael’s absence was more obvious than ever.

He was always better at carrying a conversation than me.

I asked about Deb’s work as a builder. She should have been retired, but she refused to quit.

Claire told me about volunteering with the local nursery school; she was a retired primary school teacher and loved being around children.

“Listen to us nattering on,” Claire said after I’d polished off two more cups of tea and a plate of rhubarb crumble and custard. I missed her cooking. “What’s new with you?”

“Nothing,” I lied. “But I am thinking of moving back to London.”

“Finally sick of Fairview?” Deb asked with a smug smile. When we broke the news that we were moving to the states, she had been convinced Michael, Ellis, and I would move back home after two months, and it had always bothered her to be wrong.

I shrugged. “There’s just nothing there for me anymore. You guys are here. I still have that flat in Kensington, so I’d be nearby.”

“You’d leave Ellis? He needs you.” Claire sounded distraught.

“He doesn’t want my help. And I can’t force him to talk to me.”

Claire pursed her lips. I could tell she wanted to say more, but Deb interrupted.

“Of course, we’d love for you to come home where you belong,” she said with a hopeful glint in her eye. “Perhaps you’re finally ready to settle down?”

Jess flashed in my mind; her wide brown eyes, the way she felt in my arms, the citrusy, spicy freshness of her scent. How could I explain I was ready to settle down, but the woman my heart stubbornly held onto wasn’t?

“Maybe,” I agreed.

Deb started clearing the plates. It was getting late. Large moths with pink-tipped wings were fluttering against the back door, clustered around the light.

I tried not to let my mind drift to Jess, but it was impossible.

What would Deb and Claire think of her? Claire would want to feed her up, but she’d also love her quick wit.

Deb would appreciate her powerful sense of fairness; I had a feeling they’d be up late discussing the injustices of the world and what they would do differently to fix things.

“You’re hiding something,” Claire said, studying me.

That snapped me out of my daydreams. “No, I’m not.”

“Don’t lie to me, Kieran Walsh. You’ve got that look you always get when you have a secret. Now, out with it.” Her voice was sharp and reminded me of the times she’d caught Michael and I with weed as teens. I had the same sinking feeling, too.

I sighed. “It’s nothing.”

“You may as well just tell her,” Deb said from the sink. “You know she’ll sniff it out eventually.”

“Fine. I met someone.” I spit it out quickly, trying to get the conversation over with.

“I knew it,” Claire said. “An Omega?”

“Yes,” I said reluctantly.

“Attaboy, Kier. Where are they then?” Deb asked with a grin.

“She’s in Fairview. She said she needed space.” I resigned myself to a long night; Claire would never give up until she had the whole story.

“Oh dear,” Claire murmured. “Tell me everything.”

I told them most of what had happened, leaving out only the graphic details. By the time I finished, the clock struck ten. Deb had made decaf espresso like she always did for late-night chats.

“You need to go back as soon as possible,” Claire said, thumping the table for emphasis. “Move back to London? She’s worried about being abandoned, and here you are, abandoning her!”

“Did you miss the part where she said she needed space? And I think she’s blocked my number.”

“You just need to prove yourself. Show her you’re serious.”

I suppressed a groan of frustration. “I have.”

“No, you’ve told her you’re serious about her. Words mean nothing. You’ve got to show her. For example, not running away to London the second things get hard,” Claire said, flicking me gently.

“She’s got a point there,” Deb said, nodding.

“How did you show Claire you were serious about her, then?” I couldn’t keep the defensive tone from my voice.

“Ah, well, for us it was different. The first time Don and I saw her, we just knew. Of course, we’d thought that plenty of times before, but Claire was special,” Deb said, misty-eyed. Claire was watching her with such love that it felt like I was intruding on something.

“We met at a matchmaking do, and Claire here was surrounded by Alphas. But we were patient. We waited until she’d shot them all down to make our move.

I still remember the first words she said to us,” she said, looking at Claire with a soft smile.

“‘Took you long enough,’ she said, like she’d been watching us too. We bonded within the month.”

I’d heard this story before, of course, and it had always seemed impossible that these women had been so sure, so quickly. But now, after meeting Jess, it made total sense. And that made me even more dejected.

I stood up. “I’m going to bed. I’ll see you both in the morning.”

“Wait, dear.” Claire stood and laid her hand on my arm. “I’m sorry for pushing. I just don’t want you to throw away a shot at happiness.”

“I am not the one throwing anything away. I told her how I felt. She doesn’t reciprocate.

That’s the end of it,” I said. A feeling of helplessness was churning in my gut.

I couldn’t get Ellis to talk to me; Jess had pushed me away.

Michael had left me, too. All the people I cared about seemed to want nothing to do with me.

Claire pulled me into another hug. After a moment, I hugged her back. “We love you, dear. You know that, don’t you?”

My throat tightened, and my eyes burned.

“Go on up to bed. We can talk more tomorrow. Things always seem better in the light of day,” she said, letting me go. Deb patted me on the back.

I walked up the creaky wooden staircase to the room on the third floor that they’d designated as mine. The window was cracked to let in a stream of cooler air. Faint music drifted in from somewhere outside. I listened for a moment and recognized the melody as Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata.”

“Fuck that.” I slammed the window shut. I’d rather sweat all night than listen to the musical echoes of my sadness.