Page 3 of Tending Our Omega (Saved by the Alpha Pack #1)

Romi

My first night off in longer than I cared to remember.

I didn’t mind working. My job made it possible to put food on my child’s table, clothe him, give him a place to sleep.

It paid for his hearing aids. I chose the night shift so that I could spend the most time with him, but after over two weeks of not having a night off, I needed it.

I was exhausted, beyond the point of thinking clearly.

Maddox, on the other hand, was filled with energy, running around the living room with a toy airplane, pretending he was the pilot.

It was hard to believe he was already three.

He made another loop around the room, the airplane swooshing down in front of Gram-Gram.

Gram-Gram wasn’t actually his grandmother or any relation to us, but when I’d left my pack with my tiny baby, she was the first person I met in this town.

She, too, had been looking for a job, her mate having passed away and their house no longer feasible for her on her own.

I met her at my job interview. She offered to hold him while I went up to the bar manager to see if I could pick up some shifts.

As an omega, I had to be extra careful working in places like that.

My scent blockers and special clothing must have worked, because I got a job on the spot—and she asked us to move in.

We made a deal where I would provide all our food and pay the utilities. She would supply the physical building and childcare. It worked for us and, over the two-plus years we’d lived here, she became family.

“Are you taking me on a flight?” she asked Maddox.

He didn’t respond, his hearing aids already out for the night.

I pointed to my ears and then to him, and she gave a nod, and when he looked at her, she all but shouted the same question, and he said yes and grabbed her arm so that now she, too, was running around the living room. It was absolutely adorable.

Maddox had been born with his ears broken.

Those weren’t my words. They were those of the healers, who also called it a disability and a weakness and a burden on the pack.

They never saw Maddox the way I did. My little boy could do anything and, sure, he needed hearing aids and things were going to be more difficult for him as far as language went, but that wasn’t stopping him. I wouldn’t allow it.

Part of me wondered if I’d have stayed in my pack after my mate passed away, if not for the words of that healer.

We hadn’t been a love match or even a like match.

I mated him the day I met him—the day I presented as omega—because I was forced to.

He was kind, though, and we got along. His name was Maddox also.

It wasn’t until after he died that I thought of him as mate .

It’s weird how people who passed through your life kind of faded away.

If we’d been true mates, that wouldn’t have been the case—he’d have been embedded in my soul and mind—but he was only a kind soul who liked me for whatever reason and took care of me when I needed it.

Until Andrew, the asshole, decided he wanted me.

I never really understood the whys of that. He’d been there the night I presented as omega, but so were the rest of the unmated males—but not tried to mate me then. Then, out of nowhere, he issued a challenge where both of them lost.

“Come on, Maddox. Let’s go to bed.” I pulled my hand down in front of my face while bringing my fingers together in front of my face to show him that I was talking about sleep.

I’d been working on introducing sign as I could, but I didn’t know a lot and lacked the resources to find any.

The internet at our place was pretty much nonexistent.

The audiologist and the ENT both said his hearing was leveling out and would be fine, but I didn’t want to take a chance on him losing more later and not having a way to communicate.

He handed Gram-Gram the plane and ran into the bathroom, grabbing his new favorite thing—a toothbrush that sang until it was time to stop brushing.

Because of the way it was designed, he could feel the vibrations against his gums even when he had his hearing aids out.

I loved seeing him so independent in the “big boy” things, never pushing him to grow up too fast as had been done to me.

But things like brushing his teeth or when he helped set the table, encouraged me to hope that maybe he wasn’t missing out too much by not being in a pack.

I tucked him into bed, turning on the little light box that would lull him to sleep.

It cast changing constellations on the ceiling.

Then I waited until his breath evened out before tiptoeing out and helping Gram-Gram tidy up for the end of the day.

There wasn’t much that needed doing—a few teacups and some cushions—and soon she was excusing herself for bed as well.

Working nights meant I wasn’t quite ready to sleep, so I took a long, hot shower and then climbed into bed and willed myself to sleep.

I wasn’t as okay as the front I presented; I was lonely.

And during these quiet moments, that face filled my awareness.

Being a wolf without a pack was hard, and while Gram-Gram helped make that part of things easier, it wasn’t the same.

I hadn’t even loved my mate—not the way a mate should—but I was never lonely with him.

When the world around me was asleep and it was just me, that loneliness seeped in deep.

I counted by prime numbers because the concentration required kept me from focusing on everything I wanted to change about my life—things I couldn’t change because it was no longer just me.

No one wanted a mate with a child, especially not one most wolves considered damaged goods.

If I ever found a mate again, they would have to love him like their own and see him for the amazing shifter he was.

Nonnegotiable. Whether Fate sent them or not.

Not for the first time, I thought back to the alphas at the bar. Something about them called to me, but I refused to answer. Maddox came first. Full. Stop. So what if they seemed sweet. If they smelled delicious? If they understood and respected my boundaries?

I had to give up and go back to two again, my counting getting too high, but somewhere between that and Maddox waking up crying, I had fallen asleep.

I bolted from my bed and ran to his room, where I hugged him close.

He was too young to remember what happened to his father, but I didn’t believe that—not with his nightmares.

Our pack law said all members had to be present during our challenge, including children and even babies.

I’d hidden his eyes. But children knew far more than we gave them credit for, and while Maddox never said that was what he dreamed about, everything inside me said it was.

When he fell asleep, I padded back to my room to grab my pillow and blanket and returned to lie on the floor beside his toddler bed. If he woke again, I’d be there in an instant.

Reason number 500 why I shouldn’t be thinking about those alphas from the bar.

Being a mom was hard.