Page 20 of My Begrudging Scent Matches

Grant hesitates, his fingers pausing their work. “Eight.”

Alice turns around to face him, but a bit of shampoo drips into her eyes. She squeezes them shut while he rinses her hair clean. She’d never missed a full week of work, not in college, not since she started at the company, maybe not ever. And eight days? From what she knew, most heats only lasted four. Eight days of them taking care of her nonstop?

Their entire lives were overturned for Alice.

“I’m so sorry,” she breathes.

“Stop that,” Grant holds Alice’s face between his hands and ducks his head to look into her eyes. “You have nothing to be sorry for. You’re perfect.”

She doesn’t feel perfect, she feels like a heavy burden, a plague upon their house. But even with the running water washing their bodies clean, Alice can still smell Grant and herself—the perfect mingling of their scents.

Together they create something a little closer to whole.

His scent is different from Caleb’s. Earthy and soothing, like vetiver and chamomile. She lets him pull her to his chest and they stand like that under the hot spray.

“You need to eat something,” Grant says before turning off the shower. They stand quietly watching each other for a minute until goosebumps travel over Alice’s arms.

The towels he bundles her in are some of the fluffiest she’s ever felt. She lets him dry her limbs and wraps a towel around her hair. He retrieves a plush robe for her and she wants to wear it, but something is missing that she doesn't know how to ask for. She doesn’t want to ask for it.

“What’s the matter?” he asks.

“Can I, um,” Alice sighs and probably looks as weak and defeated as she feels. “Can I have something with your scent? Caleb’s too?”

“Of course.” Grant retreats into the bedroom only to return a moment later with a soft, old tee shirt, a hoodie, and a pair of sweatpants. They do the trick, immediately offering comfort as soon as she puts them on, the scents of Caleb and Grant engulfing her own. “You don’t have to be embarrassed to ask for what you need.”

Alice keeps her eyes trained on the bathroom’s tile countertop, but nods.

“Let’s go downstairs. Caleb’s cooking something.”

When they walk through the room, the place where Caleb was is now empty and the bed has already been stripped of sheets. The comforter and other blankets sit in a pile on the carpet.

It smells like them. Heady like sex, too.

Though she’s been here for eight days, she really sees the house for the first time as they make their way towards the kitchen. It’s new, or newly renovated, with smooth walls and bright wood floors. It’s the middle of the night, something she couldn’t tell with the blackout curtains, and as they shuffle down the stairs, the light of the moon filters in through large windows.

“Who’s house is this? Yours or Caleb’s?”

“Ours,” Grant says and squeezes her hand once. “Caleb and I bought it together.”

“Are you. . .”

“Together?” Grant peers over his shoulder and Alice shrugs. “We are.”

They walk into the big kitchen where Caleb is shirtless and standing over the stove. The muscles of his back are defined and speckled with moles and freckles. Alice takes a seat on one of the bar stools, her body achy but warm bundled in their clothes.

Caleb and Grant being together doesn’t surprise her after what she remembers of the first day of her heat; the intimacy that was shared between them with ease and confidence.

Maybe that means they’re happy as they are. Just two Alphas that love each other and don’t need an Omega to be complete. If anything, Alice was just a temporary thorn in their side before they could move back onto their life alone together. It would be better that way, scent matches or not—they must know that she’s not pack Omega material. Too stubborn, too anxious, too much.

“Smells good,” Grant says, squeezing Caleb’s arm.

Grant fills up a glass with water and an electrolyte packet for Alice. She studies the two men as they move about each other. A hand placed on a back, a kiss dropped on a bare shoulder so natural like it’s only one of a thousand moments just like it—there’s an ease of movement as they glide through the kitchen, they’re comfortable around each other.

“I’m going to get the bed made up,” Grant says after setting the glass and a bowl of grapes in front of Alice.

Caleb stirs the liquid in the pot for a moment longer before he adds the lid and turns to look at Alice. “Nice hoodie,” he says, a smirk pushing up his lip.

Is Caleb Everett smirking?

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