Page 12 of Pack Favero

“I know, I know. You don’t mind caring for me, because I cared for you all those years. But, baby, that’s my job. That’s what I signed up for when I learned I was going to be your mom. You don’t owe me anything because you were born and you had a mother to look after you. There are trained professionals here that do an excellent job in making sure I get what I need,” she assures, right before the batshit-crazy woman says, “And anyway, you can’t very well get laid with your impaired mother lying on the couch, now, can you?”

“Oh, my god,” I mutter, just as I round the corner and squint against the daylight that beams through my sunglasses. “You’re impossible. I’m not getting laid.”

“Well, not yet, you’re not. Can’t very well get some loving if you’re running away from the guys’ house.” She snickers, and I feel myself blush from head to toe.

“Mom, I wasn’t there as a booty call. Do you hear yourself?” I grumble, although my lips do twitch, because my mom is funny. I just won’t tell her as much lest her head grows too big to fit through doorways.

Mom laughs loudly, and I roll my eyes as the first tugs of a smile stretch my obnoxiously full lips over my teeth, listening to her vibrant chuckles that could cheer me up even on the gloomiest of days. “Baby, is it so bad that I want you to find love and happiness? That man has been pining over you for weeks on end now. Why not give him a chance?”

“You already know why,” I mutter, my smile falling just before I reach the florist.

Mom snorts, and I already know the argument I’m about to receive before she even utters the words. “In all the years I’ve lived, Zira, I have learned to trust my instincts. I’ve screwed up enough for both of us when it comes to the romance department, but I have learned a few things along the way. There isn’t a single devious bone in either one of those boys’ bodies. Did you know Barnes calls almost daily to check in on me? To the point that one of the carers here asked me if it was my son calling again yesterday. And if a man like that exists, I’m sure he wouldn’t keep bad company. Given that Lazarus boy didn’t hesitate to pay for my care tells me they’re a good, caring bunch. Why are you being so hard on them?”

Keeping my voice low as I scan the flowers, looking for the ones I know my mom likes the most, I quietly inform, “There’s no way you can tell what kind of men they are based on them calling regularly and paying an extortionate bill.”

“And they’re paying for my care here. Don’t downplay the magnitude of their generosity, Zee,” she scolds softly, and I grimace, right before I reach for the bouquet of sunflowers paired with white snapdragons and chrysanthemums. “They did a really good thing for me. Foryou. I think you should cut them some slack. Yes, they didn’t discuss it with you, but they discussed it with me. If I think it’s okay, then surely you should, too, right?”

I pause at the counter, waiting for my turn to pay the teller, and murmur, “Look, I know what they did was a good thing. Great, really, though I still haven’t a clue why they did it. But, Mom, I have to pay them back for it. I can’t just let them pay your hospital bills.”

“Now you’re just being stubborn and pigheaded,” she scolds once more, and I fight the urge to cringe like I’ma teenager again barely getting into trouble for fear of the repercussions.

“I get it from you, so it’s no surprise,” I volley, lips twitching when she snorts rather unlady-like down the line.

“Be that as it may, pull your head out of that backside, honey. If you did, you’d see exactly why they offered and did pay for my medical stuff. You’ll see why they stayed with you during our time in hospital, until you kicked them to the curb. You’ll see why they keep calling and texting. And you’ll see why they dropped everything to come running to your aid,” she wisely informs, laughing when I don’t immediately answer. “Hell, Zira. That Barnes boy has it so bad for you that he looked like a kicked puppy when you asked him to leave. Lazarus didn’t look too pleased, either. Think what you will of their intentions, but I’m convinced those boys have crushes on you a mile wide, and you’re being a shithead because you don’t want to owe them? Did they ask for the money back? Are they expecting you to pay the money back?”

“Well, no, but—” I try, and fail, to answer, because she’s really on a roll now. This isn’t how I thought this conversation would go. I was sure I was going to curse my mother out for meddling, complain a little while she hums and aahs at my troubles, and then spend a few hours with her. I wasn’t expecting a verbal tongue lashing from the woman that birthed me, nor was I expecting to feel guilty for the way I’ve been ignoring Barnes and Lazarus.

Damn it all to hell.

“But, nothing, Zira. There are no sinister intentions here, nothing to worry about. Hell, I even looked them up because I had a lapse in judgement and thought there was an undercurrent of something dodgy in the works. It was brief, and I shook myself out of it, but it did lead to me learning a few things about Barnes and his pack,” she declares, and I frown. Why didn’t I think tosearch for them on the internet? I mean, I have been curious about the two alphas that paid a small fortune for my mom’s care, because surely no mere mortal with a struggling bank account could afford such a gift. I’m not an idiot. It’s clear one or more of them come from money, but I feel a bit of an idiot for not having thought of looking into them before now.

Laughing down the line once more, like she knows where my thoughts have gone, she sighs and gently commands, “For once, listen to your instincts, honey. What are they telling you? Don’t worry about looking them up, and don’t think of my past experiences with men, because the heavens know that was a trainwreck. Just tell me, what is your gut telling you?”

I pause for a moment, shuffling toward the cashier with my flowers in hand and my card at the ready. As I pay for my flowers, offering the young woman at the till a thankful smile, I actually think about it. I force myself to think of them and how I feel when I do, of what my instincts tell me when I think of them.

And the answer is immediate, and I feel like a weapons grade asshole the moment it does.

“I don’t think you need to tell me, honey. I think you just had your epiphany,” Mom softly concludes, and I huff with a defeated laugh, staring at the ground as I walk slowly through the shop filled with pretty flowers and overpowering floral scents that tickle my nose.

“So, you might be on to something,” I confess, shaking my head at her renewed laughter.

“I’m not good at a lot, but reminding you that your instincts are a vital part of living is one of them. How many times must I remind you that you’re an omega? Omegas are supposed to be very good at relying on their instincts. It’s how you find the pack you’re meant to be with,” she quips, and I frown.

“I thought that happens with the nose?” I tease, knowing a scent match isn’t the only thing to go on when looking for apack. It sure does help, a whole lot, actually. But it’s more to it than sniffing someone and claiming them as yours. Although, when I think like that and the scents I’ve been subjected to recently, I have to wonder if there’s something there between me and Barnes. Maybe Lazarus, too? Possibly Alek, but that’s way too early to tell. Way, way too early. I mean, I did run away from their house after they helped me.

Damn it, I’m an idiot.

“You’re a funny girl, honey,” Mom snickers, and I smile just before I reach for the door. “Anyway, now that we’ve cleared that up for the billionth time, how long until I should expect to see that pretty face of yours? I miss my baby.”

I hum under my breath, reaching for the door as I answer, “I’m about twenty minutes away, so I’ll be there—”

Before I can finish my sentence, the door swings open, knocking into me with enough force that I stumble back with a gasp and a panicked floundering of my hands while I try to save both my phone and the flowers. It’s a failed endeavor, both clambering to the hard floor before I can catch either, and I wince at the sound of my phone hitting the deck. I really can’t afford to pay for a new one.

“Shit, I’m so sorry. I didn’t even see you there,” a gravelly voice declares, and I fight a shiver as I drop into a squat to retrieve my mom’s flowers and my phone.

“It’s fine. I kind of blend in today,” I mutter, gesturing to my dress, then to the flowers all around me, before reaching for my phone with a prayer that it’s okay.

It’s not.

---