Page 42 of Meadowsweet and Marigold
The admission hangs in the air, more honest than she'd intended.
Being an Omega alone in the world carries its own particular ache — one she's tried to ignore since fleeing Rowan's rejection.
She tries to ignore what her Omega instincts are begging for. The comforting warmth of being around her Alphas. Their meshed scents and the warmth such nests and scents gave her.
Such simplistic yet essential needs.
All taken away and replaced…
"But this place..." She looks around the weathered stable, noting its sturdy beams and practical design. "There's something healing about somewhere that values usefulness over beauty."
Maple whickers softly as Marigold finishes with her hooves and straightens, stretching her back.
"In ballet, damaged goods get discarded." She pats the horse's flank. "Here, everything has value…even broken things."
Including, perhaps, a broken Omega finding her way back to herself, one day at a time.
As Marigold returns the hoof pick to its place on the wall rack, her thoughts drift to Meadow.
The memory of this morning rises unbidden — his tall frame silhouetted against the early light as he'd helped her feed the horses, the quiet competence in his movements.
So different from Rowan's calculated elegance.
"He made me lunch," she whispers to herself, running her fingers along the worn wood of the stall door.
No Alpha she'd known would have bothered with such a simple gesture.
In her experience, Alphas demonstrated their worth through grand displays — expensive gifts, exclusive invitations, and public claims. Never through carefully wrapped sandwiches with the crusts cut off exactly as she preferred.
The scent memory of Meadow's earthy cologne mingles with hay and horsehair.
Her omega instincts respond with a quiet hum of approval that startles her.
"Who made you lunch?"
Marigold turns to find Daisy leaning against the stall entrance, her freckled face curious beneath her wide-brimmed hat. The beta ranch hand tucks a stray strand of auburn hair behind her ear, waiting.
Daisy was a Beta and only came to the ranch from time to time. Think of it as a once in a while drop by to see the horses and be in touch with the wildlife before she goes back to whatever reality she’s probably escaping from.
It’s been nice to be around another female, even if she was a Beta, though she was curious because she didn’t really “smell” like a Beta.
If that even made sense.
"Oh, just..." Marigold hesitates, suddenly self-conscious. "Meadow. This morning. It was nothing, really."
Daisy's eyebrows lift as she enters the stall, grabbing a brush to help with Maple.
"Meadow Calloway made you lunch? Mr. I-Can-Feed-Myself-Just-Fine?"
She must know him long enough to know his usual “traits” which makes this a little embarrassing to admit.
Marigold's cheeks warm.
"It was just a sandwich."
"Mmhmm." Daisy's smile is knowing as she begins brushing Maple's flanks with long, practiced strokes. "And the sky is just blue."
Marigold focuses intently on reorganizing the grooming tools, avoiding Daisy's gaze.
