Page 4 of Talk About… Rivalry

If we were being honest with ourselves, I pretty much raised myself. He made sure there was food in the fridge, but I had to learn to cook it once I was old enough. He’d give me money for clothes until I was old enough to earn my own. Everything else was basics only.

Mom had never really been in the picture. This town was too small for her, and Dad had no intentions of leaving. Once she had me, things changed. Then, one day when I was ten, he woke up to find her gone, and me still there.

That was one of those things that would always stick with me. I wasn’t enough for her to stay and I knew damn well I wouldn’t be enough for any pack to stay when they found their scent match.

At least my dad stayed.

Dad was always the type to just handle situations, and so he did. He wasn’t a bad dad, but he was cold. There were no “I love yous” and hugs. I was not a coddled omega. I was expected to help on the ranch from the moment I could.

Meals were generally up to me, but at this point, we had it down to a science. Once a month, I spent the day cooking, meal-prepping, and then delivered them to his porch. All he had to do was simply set out his meals a few days in advance. He heated things up when he got up or when he finally trudged in at night.

Mama Whitaker always let me crash her kitchen on those days and I happily avoided the home I grew up in at all costs.

My dad kind of reminded me of my best friend, Avery, in the way that he buried himself in work. Maybe that was his way of coping with the life he was given. I just wish he showed a softer side more often. I swear, by the time I do find a pack, I won’t know how to handle being hugged.

“What is it, Dad?” I finally asked as I straightened up and pretended I hadn’t just nearly fallen to my death. I leaned against the railing, giving him a fake smile.

He let out a grunt but didn’t call me on my bullshit. “Uncle Dale is working with that new horse. He wants to see if you’ll have any luck. I’ll take this from here.”

“Okay,” was all I offered. He wasn’t looking for an explanation. He knew how to pick up right where I left off and would probably do it way faster—freaking alpha strength.

I was strong and fit for an omega, but no matter how hard I worked or trained, I would never be as strong as well-honed alpha muscles.

Not bothering to say goodbye, I made my way carefully down the ladder and through the barn.

The ranch was quiet this time of day. The ranch-hands had their chores done and had left for the night. I honestly preferred when the grounds were busy.

I could already see my uncle working with a new horse in the training yard. Every so often, he saw a horse at the auctions that he couldn’t pass up. The ones no one wanted were his specialty, and sometimes he thought my quiet omega voice was the trick to calming them down.

It’s not that I didn’t have compassion for these horses, but none of this was my choice. I didn’twantto be here taking care of this ranch.

This was their dream, not mine.

Sure, I could have gone off to college, but I would have been in heaps of debt. It wasn’t like we made a brilliant amount of money so that I could go without worrying.

Much to their annoyance, I stopped doing riding lessons a while back. Occasionally, I helped the Whitakers bartend, but it was just an excuse to see Maverick.

If I could, I would have gone to art school or made a business selling my paintings and prints online. Now, I just sketched in my free time and painted murals on canvas when I could.

A stressed whinny brought me out of my head. My uncle’s face lit up as he saw me, waving me over—stupidly turning his back on the horse that was already agitated. I pointed behind him before he was trampled.

He turned around just in time, hopping out of the way as the horse started to charge at him.

With a string of colorful curses, he crawled out between the fence slats and left the horse in the circular training yard.

“This one’s feisty, Sidney. I’m going to really need your help.”

“What are you going to do when I leave here one day?” I teased. He shot me a look, knowing damn well it wasn’t really a joke. It was an inevitability.

My uncle ran a hand through his beard, the copper catching in the sun. He had the same green eyes my dad and I had, but outside of that, he was stockier, had a gruffness to him that my stoic dad lacked.

He was also softer, but not enough to make me feel comforted here. I needed more than this.

“One day,” he mused. At this point, I’d been saying it for years, so he was happy to bury his head in the sand.

The truth was that I had nowhere else to go. All my work experience was here on the ranch. Then there was the omega bullshit I was forever battling.

Since my scent never came in, and I couldn’t even pick up subtle hints from other people, my doctor warned I might not have heats. The only way we knew I was an omega was by my physical stature and bloodwork.

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