Page 1 of A Home for His Omega

Henry

“You’re a good girl, Sophie, and we’re almost done,” Henry Powell said softly. “Almost. Done.” He put the last flourish of bright purple nail polish on the sweet brahma chicken’s tiny nails. She only had one leg, but she was thriving and liked to look her best. “Remember when you first got here and didn’t like to be held? Those daily bandage changes were no fun, huh?”

His friend, Sam, eyed them from outside the pen. “I remember those bandage changes. I still have the scars to prove it.”

Henry snorted. “Scars? She barely pecked you.”

“They’re inner scars from the trauma.”

“You’re ridiculous.” Henry blew on Sophie’s nails. “She’s an angel.”

The one-legged chicken really was very sweet. To Henry. He did worry that she was lonely, though. She had her own small pen away from the other chickens on the animal sanctuary because they tended to pick on her. While he visited her every day, she spent most of her time alone.

“Journey and I love you, Sophie.” Henry stroked gently down her back. His dog, Journey, watched them from the safety of his pooch pouch. The Pomeranian mix smiled happily, tongue hanging out of his mouth.

“We still have goats to feed,” Sam reminded him softly.

Henry flushed and set Sophie down on the shavings lining the floor. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to take so long.”

“It’s no problem.” Sam held the gate open for him. “You’re good for her. I wish the other chickens weren’t so mean to her.”

“Teague said it was their nature to pick on the weakest, especially if it’s an unfamiliar hen.” Henry hated the truth in his stepbrother’s words. There was nothing wrong with Sophie. She was beautiful and deserved to be accepted and loved. Everyone does, he reminded himself, taking a few deep breaths to ease the tightness gathering in his chest. There was a distinct possibility that Henry was getting too worked up about chicken bullies, but he couldn’t help himself. He empathized with Sophie a bit too much.

The rest of the morning passed quickly. Henry and Sam fed the goats and donkeys, then let them out into the pasture behind the barn while Teague, Henry’s stepbrother, took care of the chickens, pigs, and various other farm animals. Henry appreciated it because the llama they had taken in months ago was still grumpy and mean. Then there were the emus. The evil, evil emus.

Teague’s animal sanctuary had been open for over a year now, and they were absolutely filled to the brim with unwanted farm animals and pets. They even had a few injured wild animals that Teague was licensed to care for.

“Ready for lunch?” Teague asked, jogging toward them from the smaller barn. The alpha pulled Sam into his arms and nuzzled his husband’s neck. “I missed you.”

Henry spun on his heel and walked quickly toward the house. He hated the niggling bit of envy that wormed its way into his heart. Teague and Sam had something special. Something that, in Henry’s experience, wasn’t common. Thinking about what he couldn’t have was never pleasant. He’d much rather think about his nephew, Casey.

There, that made me smile.

Inside, Aunt Mia sat next to the kitchen window in her padded rocking chair, Casey snuggled in her arms and her blind Maltese, Merle, curled at her feet. Her two black cats, Luna and Dove, sat on the windowsill, enjoying the sunshine.

A herd of dogs and two pigs peeked over and through the gate blocking the kitchen from the living room. They’d only recently been banned from the kitchen during meals. It was mostly Orville and Wilbur’s fault. The two pigs were experts at begging but needed to stay on their individual diets to remain healthy.

Some might complain at the overabundance of animals in their home, but Henry loved Teague and Sam’s pets. He had never been allowed any when he was a child, so he enjoyed the chance to get to know all the unique personalities his stepbrother took in.

“I made you boys lunch.” Aunt Mia’s smile was warm, eyes kind. “Vegetable soup for you, Henry.”

“My favorite.” He leaned down to hug the older woman. “Thank you.”

“I figured you would need a treat to deal with whoever keeps calling you.”

He glared at his phone perched on the counter. Leaving it inside while he worked was the best self-care he’d ever experienced. Alas, it couldn’t last.

Several missed calls and texts flashed across the screen. “Audrey has plans for the interior of my house.”

“She has good taste.” Mia waved a hand toward the kitchen cabinets. “I love the kitchen we did together.”

He wrinkled his nose, thinking of how the kitchen looked before the renovation. “You would have loved anything without shag carpet.”

Mia chuckled. “True.”

It wasn’t that Audrey wasn’t good at design, but rather that she was one of the pushiest people Henry knew. The house he had bought was the first thing that was really Henry’s. It wasn’t his childhood home in Connecticut or his loft apartment in Soho, both designed to impress the wealthy elite that circled the Powell family. It was an old Victorian style farmhouse in Hobson Hills, Maine, a few miles down the road from Teague and Sam.

His sister had been pushing him to begin renovations for weeks now, and he was running out of excuses to avoid it. He couldn’t live with Teague and Sam forever.

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