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“We didn’t know it mattered so much to you,” I explain. “I’d have made him give it back instantly if we—”

“It’s not—” she hiccups.

“You don’t have to tell us if you don’t want to,” I whisper. I want to know. If something is important to our Omega, it’s important to us, but my instincts are telling me not to push her.

“I’m just being stupid,” she says. “I’m sorry for this past week. If you still want to do this courting thing, I promise I’ll be better.”

“Roan,” Mitch whispers, his gaze moving to mine, looking for guidance.

My tongue pushes into the back of my teeth as my lips purse. Nope. No. Absolutely not. I don’t want to hear that kind of language from our Omega. It sets off alarm bells. It stirs memories of my mom promising to be a better Beta when her Alpha and Omega would fight.

I don’t say a word as I crouch and throw Roan over my shoulder. She squeals, which thankfully hides my grunt when I straighten again and my knees ache a little. I look around for a place to set her down, but I only see a kitchen countertop.

Fuck, this place doesn’t even have anything soft. We need to change that first thing tomorrow. Our Omega deserves better than a fucking rug on the floor.

I move to the counter and Mitch rushes ahead. It’s only a few steps, but Roan grips the back of my shirt for dear life. I set her down on the counter, a little hard to make a point. Mitch presses the back of his hand into the cabinet edge to keep her from bumping her head.

We crowd her into the counter, trapping her like prey. I place both hands on either side of her hips. Mitch stands on one side, his arm raised so he can keep her head guarded and to lean into her as he follows my lead.

“Don’t you dare,” I say, voice harsh and assertive. “Don’t ever say shit like that about yourself. We are not perfect, we are always trying to be better, but we make mistakes. But we communicate, Omega. You think we’ve had twenty years of perfection?”

“No,” she whispers, twisting the handkerchief in her lap.

“It’s a lot of work,” Mitch insists. “He’s a lot of work, just like me, but it’s not the kind of work you hate waking up to on Monday morning.

It’s getting to wake up every day knowing that no matter what happens, you’ve accomplished something amazing.

It’s another day to show your partners and the world that love is real. ”

“And it starts with being honest, even if that means being vulnerable,” I press. “So tell us, why’s the handkerchief matter?”

Roan takes a deep breath, and I think she’s going to avoid opening up to us. I noticed this tendency a week ago too. She loves to learn about people, dig into what makes them shine so she can portray them in her paintings, but she doesn’t want people to see into her.

“It’s to remind myself that I need to believe,” she says. “That I deserve the success I earn.”

“Nothing stupid about that.” Mitch covers her hands with his.

“It is, though, because I haven’t earned anything. I haven’t done anything,” she insists, the tears flooding right back to her eyes. “None of it’s been me. It’s—it’s been her. This whole time.”

“Your mother wasn’t in our coffee shop two weeks ago,” I remind her. “She wasn’t in that crowd when you talked us through your paintings. She’s not the one controlling your wrists when you’re sketching a new idea. She isn’t the person who cleared out this entire fucking building by herself.

“You can’t change the privilege you grew up with, but you can use it to help your community. You are using it to make things better here. You know people, you know what makes art fancy, you know how to do all sorts of shit that I can’t do.”

“What if it’s not enough?” she asks. “What if—”

“Darlin', you can what if until you’re blue in the face,” Mitch cuts in.

“Don’t get so lost in your head worrying that you lose sight of what’s right in front of you.”

“Two very hot Wolvens,” Mitch teases.

I roll my eyes, but Roan laughs.

“Oh my gods,” she gasps suddenly, her eyes closing. “I handed Mayor Louise those papers you said I needed to print out. She’s going to think I’m some kind of sex pest.”

Mitch laughs and laughs. This is just great. The mayor knows more about my Omega’s sexual desires than I do. But she did the work we asked her to.

“S’fine, sugar,” I say anyway. “I’m the one who’s going to read about all the fun you want to have.”

“Excuse you, we are going to read it. And she gets to read ours.” Mitch flicks his tail at me.

“What?”

“We did it too,” I say. “The plan was for us to have another date and talk about our interests.”

“Which we can still do. We’d still like to do that. Just not tonight,” Mitch rushes, his words mumbling together as he yawns.

“You wanna sleep in a real bed, or is that rug some sort of penance you wanna keep up?” I ask.

Roan looks rightfully chastised, but glances at the door. This isn’t all the progress I wanted to see tonight. It’s a start, and I can’t complain about that. We’ve got plenty of time to peel back the layers of our Omega while she realises she is safe to be her truest self with us.