Page 127 of Captive Omega

“It was the day we became a pack,” he says, still smiling. “Officially. We’d talked about it before. But we… gelled. For the first time, I felt like I belonged. We all did. We were pack. Family.”

I get it.

I don’t know how common it is for alphas to share a scent match, but since there are more alphas than there are omegas in our world, it makes sense that it frequently happens.

“And that day just so happened to involve a pink flamingo the size of an elephant?” I ask dryly.

He nods. “It did.”

I wait. “And?”

His amusement grows. Probably because I’m not doing a damn thing to hide my impatience.

“And,” he says firmly.

“What about Roman and Frost?” I ask, figuring I can circle back to get my answer another way because I suspect he’s drawing this out on purpose to drive me crazy. “Are they not pack?”

He shakes his head. “Roman is married with a daughter your age and a son a couple of years older. He has his own pack.”

“And Frost?”

His smile dims a little. “Had his heart and his mind set elsewhere. I’m sure he will find his own way.”

I’m tempted to shake him and hope answers spill out like sweets from a piñata. “You’re doing it on purpose, aren’t you?”

He tilts his head, his brow wrinkling in confusion. “Doing what on purpose?”

“Telling me just enough to stir my interest, then slam the door in my face.” I scowl.

His brow smooths. “Not on purpose. Though I can’t say I’m not pleased that you want to know more about us.”

Alarm bells ring.

It sounds an awful lot like I do want to know more about them. Wanting to know more about an alpha is stepping on a path of liking him. That path is mired with thorns and stones that will trip me, causing untold damage when I inevitably fall.

Garrison clears his throat. “The pink flamingo?—”

“No.” I cut him off, more sharply than I intend. I’m interested, don’t get me wrong. Learning about an important moment like that is too intimate. Henry has moved on with his life, but I don’t have a future with an alpha. “I don’t need to know.”

He nods once, and then bows his head, returning to his puzzle.

I watch him for a bit, conscious I still haven’t thanked him for my nest. It’s getting late, and I should go to bed, but I make no move to get up.

“One day, years from now, my child is going to grow up and ask me who their father is, and I don’t know how to tell them they don’t have a father.” I clear my throat. “I keep thinking of what I would say and I don’t know. This is probably a stupid question, but what would you say if you were me?”

Garrison reclines in his seat, paying me the same focused attention as he does to his puzzles. “It’s not a stupid question. It sounds like a very difficult one. Can you leave it with me to sit on it before I give you an answer?”

I almost smile. “You never blurt things out like the rest of us, do you?”

A flicker of amusement warms his hazel gaze. “Not often.”

“Because you had a detective neighbor?”

He tilts his head, his expression thoughtful. “A little. My father walked out on my mother when I was five. Lucas was the only father figure I had in my life, and he taught me a lot. One of those things was to think before you speak, especially when talking about things that are important.”

“And to never sign things you don’t understand?”

“Yes.” A smile softens his face. “Though that lesson took a while to sink in. Becoming a business owner is what solidified it.”

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