Page 3 of His Omega Bear

This is home now.

“What happens if there’s an emergency?” Shepherd pushed.

I held his gaze and replied, “There’s a fantastic hospital here. I checked.”

Shepherd rolled his eyes. “Come on man, you know that’s not what I mean. You need your people, and all of them are back home in Chicago, not in a place barely on the map.”

I wanted to growl at him for saying things I’d worried about. Did he think I wasn’t aware of the fact that I was alone in a whole new town? Did he think I didn’t know it was crazy and foolish to uproot my life when it was just me and this tiny human?

“You know why I’m doing this,” I gritted out. “Why I have to do this. You’d sure as fuck do the same.”

Shepherd looked away, but he nodded slightly, acknowledging my words for the truth they were. Like me, he was tight with his family. His younger brother and sister had gone into the service too, and his sister was still in. Shep and Landry only retired when their dad, also an ex-serviceman himself, had a very unexpected heart attack. They’d come back to take over the family moving and storage business.

Shep never traveled with the trucks anymore, and I knew he tagged along with the driver so he could have this conversation. But deep down, I also knew it was because he was a great friend.

“Boss should we get things unpacked or—” the voice trailed off.

“I told you not to call me boss,” Shep said, “And yup let’s get this truck empty and the house set up.”

He finally turned back to me. “My mama would have my head if I didn’t make sure you were settled in before leaving. She expects a full report and pictures as proof.”

“Thank you,” I said as the tinge of panic that told me that I was on my own once that truck pulled out and headed back to Chicago tried to resurface, but I shoved it down. Knowing Shep, he wouldn’t leave until the house was completely ready. Heck, if I asked him, he’d stay a little longer. But I knew I couldn’t do that to him. It would just be delaying the inevitable.

He nudged me lightly, conscious of the precious cargo in my arms. “Don’t be an idiot. Anytime.” He held my gaze. “I mean it, call if you need me.”

My throat tightened, but I cleared it. “I know,” I replied.

“Good. Now get my goddaughter in the house while we get y’all sorted,” Shep said firmly, closing the mushy part of our conversation.

I crossed over from the garage to the walkway and walked up the three steps that led up to a covered front porch. On each side of the entrance sat two outdoor chairs with a small table between them. I couldn’t tell what they looked like since they were covered with dark green waterproof furniture covers. Ignoring that for now, I stared at the large brown stained front door. I felt the need to draw in a deep breath.

“This is it. We’re home, baby girl.”

Kissing her on the head, I pushed the key that Leanne and Jayson’s lawyer had delivered to me into the lock. I released a breath as the door opened, then stepped inside the house. The house was warm, and I was immediately thankful I’d asked the attorney to have the heat turned on. Looking around, I’d expected to find it dusty, but that wasn’t the case. There wasn’t even a layer of dust on the wooden table in the foyer. Even the mirror was totally spotless.

I tried to remember if the lawyer had mentioned a cleaning service and made a mental note to call him I would definitely need help keeping this house up along with my new—my gaze shifted to my niece—responsibility. Not to mention trying to figure out what the rest of my life looked like for the next eighteen years in Asheville, Montana. It was definitely more than I was capable of at the moment.

Footsteps broke me out of my reverie, and I turned to find Shep hovering in the doorway.

I raised a brow. “Need a written invitation before you come in? You’re letting all the heat out, asshole.” I tried for levity but didn’t quite hit the mark. My chest felt like it was being squeezed in a vise. It was seventeen degrees outside, and thankfully I was used to below-freezing temperatures from living in Chicago. Otherwise, it would have been another thing I had to get used to.

So why was I sweating like I was trekking across the Afghan desert in full camo and equipment?

Shep must have seen something in my eyes because he walked over, stopping right beside me. Our gazes met as I looked in the entryway mirror and held. “You know you’re not alone, right?” He squeezed my shoulder. “Say the word, and I’ll send him back with the truck and stay with you till?—”

“No,” I said, cutting him off. It wasn’t the word I was dying to scream, but I knew I couldn’t ask that of him. He had a family and a business to run back home in Chicago. “Thank you, but no. If you stay—” I blew out a breath, “I can’t… I think I need to do this by myself.”

Shep’s brow furrowed as he opened his mouth. I could see he was about to argue, but then pressed his lips together without speaking. He took the battered White Sox cap off and rubbed his head. Shep still wore his hair in a blend of a buzz cut and a short fade. It wasn’t military regulation anymore—not that mine was—but it worked for him.

“If you need me to come, night or day, you call.” He held my gaze until I finally nodded.

“I promise.” With that, Shep’s shoulders seemed to drop, and he sighed and shoved his cap back on.

“Good, now let’s see what we’re working with here,” he said.

He opened the door to the left of us. “Should make a good office, I’ll have them leave your stuff,” Shep said.

I peeked in and saw dark built-in cabinets. There was a sturdy farmhouse-style desk, the floors were a lovely chocolate oak, and the large window to the side brought in enough good light that even with all dark furniture, the room still worked.

---