Page 4 of Small Town Shy Omega (Applewood Falls #1)

“These guys are special,” I murmured, shaking my head in disbelief. Blake, Josh, and Dreydon. Far as I’m concerned, these guys came straight from heaven, and that’s probably where they were going in the blink of an eye.

Because they had to be supernatural creatures, right? Some kind of angels, here for a half-second then gone just as fast, leaving me alone.

But no. My Alphas stayed.

Small presents “just because,” taking out Whiskers and changing her litter when I hadn’t even asked. Once, Blake asked me my favorite fast-food meal, and when I told him what burgers I liked, he looked up the recipe and recreated them in my own kitchen.

They were the best burgers ever, and I tried my best not to shed a tear as I ate his home-cooked fries.

“Thank you,” I murmured, feebly wiping my hands on a napkin, which Josh promptly whisked away and replaced.

“Did you like the burgers?” Blake raised his brows.

He wasn’t seeking compliments, I realized, my heart pounding in my chest. Didn't want my praise, he just wanted to know. To know… whether they were good or not.

I nodded. “Great. Exactly like Culver's.”

“I thought they were a little dry,” Dreydon said and Josh swatted his arm.

“Brave,” Josh growled, and my Alphas laughed.

Three days later, I walked into the kitchen and Josh and Blake had sheets of paper sprawled out across the kitchen table. Furrowing my brow, I went to the cupboard to grab some sherbet cookies.

“Whatcha doing?” I asked, seeing the paper sprawled out.

Josh was busy focusing on his tasks. “So we’ll have fish on Tuesdays, because Layla said she likes salmon occasionally—not too often, we wouldn’t want to overload her. And, no salt on the salmon, she’s trying to keep her sodium down, right?”

Blake nodded, eagerly listening to his pack mate.

“And chicken three nights a week—she wants poached chicken breast, no extra seasoning so she can eat at maintenance. And red meat once a week, no more, no less. That’ll be hell for us, but we’ll manage.

We can get all of this at the farmers’ market, and she can focus on her studio. ”

It hit me all at once—

My Alphas were planning our weekly meal schedule.

I peered at the paper, trying to stop myself from swooning.

“Guys,” I cleared my throat, drawing their attention.

Blake ticked his head up, looking guilty. “Oops. Caught in the act.”

Josh whisked the paper away.

“You’re a busy Omega, Layla. The last thing we’d want is for you to have to keep slaving over meal prep.”

They were planning my meals. Not just cooking for me, but actually planning what to buy, what days to eat it, and taking into account what’d I’d told them about my food.

They knew I wanted to eat low sodium—and instead of laughing at me, or telling me “just try it” while shoving a heavily salted piece of salmon or steak my way, they listened.

They just… prepared around my likes, my wants. My desires: they weren’t ignored around these Alphas, and the packs I’d dated in the past seemed even worse.

How many Alphas had just… cooked what they wanted, or even brow-beat me into cooking what they craved? I certainly hadn’t been asked what I needed, unless it was a pre-planned date night or something, and they were trying to suck up to me.

Meal prep requires so much more time, effort, and planning… And truly, it was like a weight off my back.

Next day, I went into my studio, and I created a vase. I didn't even think about my food, what I’d have to prepare for my Alphas. From my window, I peeked at Josh and Blake carrying groceries into the house, and I trembled:

They even went grocery shopping for me.

Much as I loved browsing fresh peaches and treats at the farmers’ market, actually shopping for necessities did not spark joy. It was work, too much like something I was expected to do… not shopping for myself.

Now, my Alphas handled the not-fun shopping. The work shopping, so that when I went to the farmers’ market next, I could be the one to have fun.

My heart fluttered, and I had to fan myself to prevent tears from raining out. “Can’t get any water on my glass vase,” I muttered, taking it to the kiln and locking it inside so I wouldn’t break it.

Then, I went to my artist’s desk, and buried my head in my arms. Where had they been all my life?

My Alphas fixed my car, they shopped for groceries, and they even planned the low-sodium meals I wanted.

In my other relationships, when I wasn’t doing everything, and serving my Alphas hand and foot, they bought me the things they wanted .

If an ex-Alpha bought me a gift, it wasn’t a crystal pendant or moon ring that I might like, engraved with my star sign.

No, it’d probably be some soap or bath bomb I wouldn’t even like—and not because I don’t like bath bombs, but because I wasn’t even consulted before they picked it out.

They just assumed I liked soap, spa material, lotions, and bath bombs… And maybe I did say I liked those things once, but then they just kept buying the same spa things over and over again.

My Alphas… asked. Or if they didn't ask, they simply… knew. Knew what not to do, which was almost as impressive as figuring out what to do.

“I think we’re matches,” I said with alarm, my hand on my studio’s window. I had to smoke a bowl to calm myself. An Omega probably shouldn’t cry as much as me, but honest to Fate I was grateful.

Grateful that they got me. Grateful that they understood.

“Thank you for sharing,” Josh said, holding my hand as he stared into my eyes.

“I-I feel so silly,” I hiccuped, needing a sip of my raspberry tea to keep the nerves down.

Mid-afternoon sunlight blazed in through the window, painting our sofa in buttery light. Josh held my hand, listening to everything I said about my stepparents who’d rejected me, letting my grandfather adopt me.

“Don’t feel silly,” he said quietly, rubbing his thumb on my wrist. “Your feelings matter, Layla. When you talk…”

I ticked my head up. “What?”

“Let's just say, that when an Omega opens up, it’s an honor to listen to her. Omegas don’t just share their feelings freely… And I’m a lucky, lucky Alpha to be able to hear you share about your stepmother. And your former mother-in-law.”

He even listened to the part I slipped in about my former mother-in-law.

When I stopped crying, I just turned to the side, because staring into his eyes was too powerful right now.

“Josh,” I breathed out, eating a bite of the raspberry ice cream he and Blake made by hand, churning the cream out in the barn, because I’d said it was my favorite flavor. “When I talk to you, I feel like…” I pushed out a breath. “You’re listening.”

“Of course I’m listening,” and Josh frowned. “Why wouldn’t you think that?”

“Other Alphas typically don’t listen as much.

” My heart panged, and I dropped my head.

“Do you know what I’ve been called in the past?

Too emotional… too needy, my last pack said.

They didn't really hear me, and they certainly wouldn’t put down their phones—I think they were scrolling Instagram or so they said—or their video game controllers to even listen to me. ”

Josh nodded. “Hearing you speak about your stepmom’s comments growing up, really helps me get to know your Omega better, Layla.

And getting to know you, well. That’s the most important thing to me, and I don’t know why it wouldn’t be.

I can’t fathom why an Alpha wouldn’t want to listen to you, and… ”

Josh’s eyes went to the clock.

“We’ve talked for hours,” I said guiltily, seeing it was almost midnight.

Josh turned back to me, smiling as he held my hand. “It’s not long enough, I’m afraid. You have a gift about you, Layla, when you speak I can hear your heart. Really hear it—and it’s a miraculously beautiful heart.”

I kept talking, and to my absolute shock, Josh kept listening. No Alpha—and I mean zero, nada—ever gave me more than twenty minutes at a time, and I often felt like they were keeping a timer beside them. Ready to beep when I exceeded my limit.

Alphas often enjoyed claiming that they measured results. Not when they played video games, apparently. When talking to me, they seemed to always get furious that we weren’t reaching the “point” in a conversation, whatever that rude crap might be.

Josh, and the others in the pack?

My eyes drifted to the clock, the hands nearly striking midnight. Pale moonlight drifted through the cracked window, and cicadas hummed in the distance.

“My former mother-in-law…” My voice trailed off, and I don’t even know how long I talked, but Josh listened to it all.

He seemed genuinely interested, and I was so impressed that I just lost myself in his eyes, and halfway through…

I didn't even know whether I was still talking about my former mother-in-law, whether I was still mad at her, or whether I was still talking because, almost like a test or something, I wanted to see whether Josh would still listen…

And he did listen, holy moly. He listened to every word I said, as if I was Sappho and my words were pure poetry.

“Every word out of your lips is a miracle,” Josh hummed, and he tilted my jaw toward his…

And he kissed me.

I’d been talking about my feelings, my problems, and when Josh touched his lips to mine… For that moment, at least, certainly not for a lifetime or in general or anything, but for that moment…

My worries faded.

It was just me, Josh, and the moonlight, and the hands of the clock. The cicadas hummed outside, and all of Applewood Falls was asleep.

Of course, I did start thinking about my former mother-in-law again a few days later, but Blake, Josh, and Dreydon had a way of taking my mind off her, like I’d never had the misfortune of knowing her.

I was afraid to cross a little eddy in the river, a place where the tree that I’d used as a bridge a few weeks earlier had broken.