Page 57 of Scent to the Feral Cowboys

Couldn’t spot Boone anywhere, though the ranch had a dozen barriers blocking my view. He’d had that look this morning though… Really hoped he hadn’t pulled a vanishingact again. They were getting too frequent. Felt like he was gone more than he was home.

Though I tried not to, I looked over at the new house. It was finally past the skeleton stage, stone shielding the lower half and shaker shingles lining the upper. Tin roof was finished, and I was already looking forward to Spring storms. There was just something about sitting on a front porch, listening to the rain pinging against a metal roof. Now that the inside was drywalled, the contractors and subcontractors were wrapping up plumbing, electric, and HVAC this week. The timeline to finish could still be upwards of twelve weeks; they wouldn’t give us a hard estimate, always citing backordered fixtures and scheduling complications. Still, we were finally getting there, finish line just past the horizon.

Though the new house should be a point of joy, looking at it made me mighty sad.

Would our pack have an Omega by the time it was done?

Would we even want to move in without one?

How did shit get so tangled?

Supporting the pastry boxes, I made my way into the house and back to the kitchen I’d left only a short while ago. First thing I noticed was the bucket gone from the sink, towels rinsed out and hanging over two open cabinet doors. I placed the treats by the sink, then turned around to lean against the counter. I found myself closing my eyes and crossing my arms. Found myself adding up all the times when I’d been a pain in the ass. The summation of my foolishness left me with zero reasons to like myself.

“Stop beating yourself up, Coop,” a voice pushed into my brain, some imaginary creature of self-preservation coming to my rescue.

Coop, ha, I was thinking of myself in third person now. Maybe I was going insane.

“Coop?” My nickname was a question now, and I finally realized the voice wasn’t inside me.

I parted my lashes.

Levi was standing in the doorway, his almost lavender eyes behind thick-framed reading glasses looking me over with concern. He only wore the readers when he had a headache bad enough to blur his vision while working. On top of that, his black curls looked wilder than usual, like he'd been running his hands anxiously through them during the video call with my broker. Not a great sign. I looked at Levi,really looked at him, and realized I’d not done so in a great while.

His button-down shirt was winkled, the sleeves haphazardly pushed up to his elbows—which he never did because it revealed the faded cigarette burn scars from childhood—and his slacks bore a large coffee stain. Levi didn’t walk around looking so disheveled. He changed if he spilled. He dressed like he might need to lead a business meeting at any moment. He brushed his hair almost immediately if he mussed the curls.

I loved Levi, and I was the biggest reason why he was in this state.

He must have seen my torment written on my face, because he gave me a small smile and strode over. I dropped my arms as he approached, and he put his arms around me, in that firm gentle way of his. My pack brother, who’d dealt with my endless bullshit since we were kids, murmured that everything was okay. I couldn’t lift my arms, though I wanted to hug him back.

“You don’t know that, Levi. I’ve really outdone myself this time.” Though I was bulkier than Levi, and only an inch shorter, he pulled me tighter against his body. He seemed to wrap around me like he could endlessly, protectively expand. I pressed my face into the curve of his neck, inhaling deeply, like he was smelling salts and I was on the verge of passing out.

“Not the end of the world. It’s only money,” Levi said flippantly.

“Now I know it’s the end of the world. Otherwise, Levi Briggs would never say something like that.” I chuckled into his shoulder, the sound thick and wet as I fought tears.

“Look, Coop,” he spoke slowly, running a hand over my head and down the length of my braid, “I was pissed at the beginning.” He paused, thinking. “Pissed in the middle too. I’m not pissed anymore. We’re all in the same boat. You were just trying to give us a motor instead of slow fucking paddles. I get that. I forgive you. We all do, even if the others haven’t said it.”

“I don’t fucking forgive myself,” I growled, my words muffled as I spoke against his skin.

“You got sort that yourself.”

“I’m not spending one damn cent in the future without talking to the pack first.”

Levi laughed in surprise, tugging on my braid playfully. “Don’t make promises you definitely won’t keep.”

“I can do it, Levi. I’m not just a waste of space, pain in the ass.” More hot tears fell, soaking the collar of Levi’s shirt.

“You’ve never been a waste of space. Pain in the ass,” his tone changed, rising a few octaves as he dragged out the next two words, “maybe sometimes.”

I raised my arms and slid them around my pack mate’s body. We changed roles now. Me the enfolding protector, him the man I loved so dearly. His body was warm against mine, familiar in every way after so many years together. His heartbeat was steady as it pulsed against me, reminding me how to feel alive. I wanted an Omega so damn bad, to complete our pack and safeguard our future, yet I wondered if I could feel for a new person what I felt for Boone and Levi. What I felt for Wyatt and Wade. I wondered if a new person could even love me. Me, with my flaws, foolishness, and impulsive nature.

"I really wanted this for all of us. I wanted to contribute something important.” My voice came out rougher than intended, scraping against emotions I preferred to keep buried by jokes and retail therapy. "It wasn't some selfish, stupid purchase like normal. I didn't do it for a laugh."

“We know, Cooper. We all know.”

I pulled away from him, locking gazes. He truly forgave me; I could see it in his stunning eyes. I leaned forward, pressing my lips to his. Levi’s mouth was soft. He responded automatically.

Our love was practiced.