Page 14 of Scent to the Feral Cowboys

My heart thudded sluggishly, blood slowing in my veins. I wanted to tell them what happened last month. Not only that,but I also desperately wanted to tell them every detail of… of…of everything. All the terrible shit I’d dealt with since my injury. I wanted to give them the full version, unedited, with every ounce of pain laid bare. Nothing held back.

Yet each time I’d gotten my courage up to do so, I’d found a reason to keep my lips sealed.

Today was no different. My reason to continue subterfuge was right in front of me—Grandmother was having such a good day. Grandpa's gaze locked with mine. It was hard to hide things from him. If I knew him well enough to know he was hiding something, then he returned that favor ten-fold. I wasn’t sure if he believed me when I said everything was going fine in my life.

“Nelly?” Grandma made my name a question. I forced a smile, hoping it reached my eyes.

“Nothing scheduled right now,” I said, managing not to choke on the words as I settled into a chair opposite of her. “We’re still in between shows. I like that though. I really needed a rest.”

Why did that last bit feel truthful?

"Rest is so good for you, sweetheart. You’ll burn out if you push too hard." She nodded sagely, then her entire body seemed to brighten. She sat a bit taller, her smile widened fractionally, her cheeks pinked. “I’ve not seen you dance in so long, Nelly. You should speak to the Serenity Activities Director about putting on a little showcase. Maybe ask some of your friends at the Imperial to join. The other residents would love it.”

“That’s such a good idea, Grandma. I’ll see what I can do.” I knit my hands together tightly. Lies. Lies and more lies. Why was my new default either sugar-coating the truth or concealing it completely? Evasion or fantasy.

Maybe I’d never have to tell either of them that I was a failure.

Maybe I’d never have to see disappointment flood their gazes as they realized all their sacrifices were for nothing.

The maybes came along with the horrible idea that I was waiting them out, as if I was hoping to delay until one wouldn’t understand my truth, and the other wasn’t alive to hear it.

“Here you go, Annie.” Grandpa appeared, carefully holding a half-filled, chipped teacup on a faded saucer. I knew the tea would be lukewarm. He was always worried she’d forget to wait for things to cool down.

“Thank you, Rich.” She tried to pinch his rear again.

“You’re going to run our granddaughter off,” he teased and batted her away. There was no bite to his words.

“Oh, she’s old enough to know about the birds and the bees,” Grandmother chuckled and took the tea he offered. “Can I have some of those cookies too? The ones Nelly brought?”

Shit. I really should have stopped for those.

“Nelly didn’t get any today, Annie,” he gently reminded.

“Oh. I forgot.” The air seemed to shift as her face crumpled, and her eyes glazed over. Silence spread around us.

“Can I get you something else, Annie? How about those garlic crackers you like?” Grandpa's words seemed muffled by the blanketing quiet as Grandmother stayed frozen. I waited, and prayed, for her to blink and pull herself back to us. She did eventually blink, but instead of staying in the present, she retreated into memories. Her lucidity burned out as quickly as lit candles unprotected from a breeze.

“Rich, where are we?” She looked around, confused. “Are we at a hotel? Where’s Laura?”

Laura was my mother.

Her eyes landed on me, then glided away. She didn’t mistake me for mom this time. I was just a stranger.

“Annie, it’s okay. Everything’s fine.” Grandpa went into management mode, not exactly entertaining her bewilderment,but not fighting it either. We’d been told the best thing to do was step into Grandmother’s reality with her, trying to correct her would only cause distress. “Nelly, why don’t you go wait for me in my room. I’ll get her settled and ask staff to bring her dinner here tonight.”

I nodded, unable to form words.

In a daze, I moved out of the room and retraced our steps back to the memory care exit. I took the elevator down to assisted living. I walked on autopilot until I found myself inside Grandpa's room, breathing in his familiar scent of apple and fresh-mowed grass. Sweet and green. It was mild for an Alpha, though the first time he’d met Grandmother, she’d been able to smell him even beneath layers of mud and sweat. She’d been volunteering at a charity fun run, protected beneath a pop-up tent and handing out snacks. The rain was pouring that day, and Grandpa had fallen one too many times. He was absolutely drenched in mud.

They say if the right Omega meets the right Alpha, or Alphas, it doesn’t matter what might be masking natural scent. The match will know, beyond any doubt.

Waiting for Grandpa gave me time to think. I hated that. I was trying so hard to stay busy so I wouldn’t dwell on the sad state of my life right now.

Today marked four weeks since I walked out of the Imperial, contract severance burning a hole in my pocket and humiliation chafing me raw. Over the first week, I’d been so determined. I wasn’t a lost cause. I wasn’t a liability. I could get right back on the proverbial horse again. I’d taken harder falls before. Nothing had ever kept me from getting back in the saddle.

I spent entire afternoons at home tweaking my resume, putting out feelers in the dance sector, refreshing job postings, and measuring every morsel of food I consumed like a deranged scientist. I stretched. I ran. I lifted, low weight and high reps.I refused to get complacent, refused to let myself go. Doing so would be tantamount to proving Director Madoff and the rest of those board assholes right. I tried.Hell, I tried so hard.

Week two, I started waking up at five-thirty again, eating my bell pepper eggs, trying to stick to some semblance of my normal routine. I danced as well as I could inside the house. Each day, it got a little harder. Each day, a new piece of me wanted to say fuck it all. By week three, I was walking wearily away from interview after interview. Turned away because of the past injury. Turned away because I was an Omega, or because I was an unmated Omega. Turned away because I had no experience outside of dance. More than once, I had caught myself circling the Imperial’s campus, parking half a block away to stare at the swooping metal sign mounted next to the entrance. The day they hung the banners for the upcoming show, another part of me died. Geoff and Lisette’s names were displayed prominently above a shot of them holding one another on stage.