Page 12 of The Omega Project

“Nor would I, so it sounds like you’re joining the right team.”

Emily

We email our signed contracts just before midnight, then tumble into Derek’s bed, both too strung out for more than a quick shower and goodnight kiss. I can feel the tension radiating off him even in his dreams, and I’m still awake when I get a text from Claudia asking if I can come home to get Jacob ready for school. Mum is still locked in her room in a depressed funk, and my sister has a double shift none of us can afford for her to miss.

“Go back to sleep,” I whisper as I slide out of bed and start hunting for my clothes.

Derek rolls over and pushes himself up on his arms, blinking at me. He looks rough, and I don’t think it’s just the pre-dawn light that makes his face look so grey. “I think I need to get some aspirin or something.”

I press a hand to his forehead and frown. “You’re definitely warm. How’s the throat?”

“Bad enough that I won’t be kissing you for a while,” he says in a scratchy voice, and I immediately want to lean forward and lick the pout off his face. “I’ll be fine. I’ve still got all the vitamins you stockpiled from last flu season.”

I’ll admit, I’m a little obsessed with preventative medicine. But as betas, we don’t have the natural healing powers of other designations. If we get sick, we battle through as best we can with over-the-counter meds, while omegas bathe in vats of therapeutic alpha juice. Or at least that’s what I’ve heard, since most of the alphas in my life have been more interested inhurting me than healing me.

“You need some of my famous chicken noodle soup,” I declare, slipping my feet into my converse and mentally ticking off ingredients in my head. “I’ll come over right after work and make you some, okay?”

Derek groans and swings his feet to the floor. “I don’t want you going there on your own, Em.”

“I’ve already been into the heart of the lair and survived.” I giggle at the face he pulls. “I just mean that I don’t need you to hold my hand. Ilikeyou holding it, but I can do this. You know I’m tougher than I look.”

He sweeps me into the V of his thighs, and I try to cuddle closer, but he leans back so I’m not breathing in his germs. “I don’t doubt it, Em. You’re one of the toughest people I know.”

“Then you should take a few days off and get better.” He’s already told me that he won’t be going back to his old job, so whatever stuff he left in his office is now property of the investigation. “We can cover the bills together or ask Clark to give us a couple of weeks leeway on the rent.”

“It’s not a problem,” he tells me tiredly, resting his head against my belly. “But you’ll text me all day, right? And I’m going to call Clark and tell him to look out for you, just so you don’t have to rely on Finn Visser showing you around.”

His voice is so sour, I have to bite back a laugh. “I’m pretty sure the big boss will be too busy to give me the time of day, but I’d love to see Clark.” I bend down and kiss his warm forehead. “Come on, get back into bed while I grab some juice and those vitamins.”

He doesn’t fight me as I tuck him in, and he’s almost asleep when I come back with the supplies. I make him finish the glass of juice, and then replace it with a bottle of water, adding some throat lozenges to his bedside table. He mumbles a faintgoodbye, and then I’m hurrying to grab my bag and snag his hoodie, already in the process of booking a ride as I walk outside.

It’s still a little before six, and I shiver in the chill air as I pull his hoodie on. I can’t really afford the Uber, but it will take me an hour to get home by bus, and Finn texted me last night to say he’d organise a lift for my first day.

There’s no traffic so I’m home in no time. After checking on Jacob, I take another quick shower and get started on my makeup. After going to the interview in a band tee and converse, I want to put a little more effort into my appearance for my first day. I do a subtle smoky eye and gloss up my lips, before twisting my hair into a tight bun. I only have one suit that looks even vaguely corporate, and I’m squeezing my toes into a pair of navy pumps when a small hand taps me on the hip.

“Aunty Em, Gran is still in bed, and I poured orange juice on myself.”

I turn to find my nephew staring up at me with big, regretful eyes. He’s wearing his Spiderman pyjamas and there’s a big yellow stain on his chest to go with the Corn Flakes stuck in his hair. “It’s okay, buddy. I’ll help you clean it up.”

I wash his sticky fingers, then steer him back to the table to finish his breakfast. When he’s done, I help him change into his uniform, then plant him on the sofa with my phone. I give the kitchen a quick clean, packing his lunch in his schoolbag before going in search of my mum. Her door is unlocked, which is usually a good sign, but when I go inside, she’s an unmoving lump under her silk comforter.

“Mum, you need to get up. Jacob’s fed and dressed, but you have to take him to school.”

There’s a soft sniff from under the blankets and a puff of sour omega perfume fills the air. “No one needs me. I'm useless. I can't help anyone. You look after him, since he likes you best.”

Shit. This is worse than mum’s usual response when she’s having what she calls a low day. “I've got work. He’s ready to go, but someone is picking me up and I can’t be late.”

“You work in a bookshop.” The sniff has a touch of disdain about it now. “What do you even earn in a shift? We need youhere. I can’t do everything, you know.”

I ignore the sharp bite to her tone, moving over to the window and pushing the heavy velvet curtains aside. Mum hisses and flings up an arm like a vampire under threat of torture, but I just crack the window open, filling the stuffy room with fresh air. “Come on, Mum. It’s a lovely day outside and you'll feel better with a cup of tea inside you.”

“I can make marmalade toast, Gran!” Jacob announces from the doorway. “With butter to the edges, just how you like it.”

I turn to give him a grateful smile, but he’s already gone, thumping down the hall in his heavy school shoes to get Mum’s breakfast started. I grit my teeth and reach for the edge of the comforter right as the front doorbell chimes. Jacob’s shoes clomp to the door, and I can hear a rumbling voice that he answers in a sweet mumble.

“Shit! Get up, Mum. You can come home and have a nap later.”

I don’t wait to see if she’s listening, sprinting down the hall with my heart in my throat. As far as I’m aware, taxi drivers don’t come to the door, which must mean it’s Rick making another of his impromptu and very unwelcome visits.

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