Page 9 of Small Town Shy Omega
Small presents “just because,”taking out Whiskers and changing her litter when I hadn’t even asked. Once, Blake asked me my favorite fast-food meal, and when I told him what burgers I liked, he looked up the recipe and recreated them in my own kitchen.
They were the best burgers ever, and I tried my best not to shed a tear as I ate his home-cooked fries.
“Thank you,” I murmured, feebly wiping my hands on a napkin, which Josh promptly whisked away and replaced.
“Did you like the burgers?” Blake raised his brows.
He wasn’t seeking compliments, I realized, my heart pounding in my chest. Didn't want my praise, he just wanted to know. To know… whether they were good or not.
I nodded. “Great. Exactly like Culver's.”
“I thought they were a little dry,” Dreydon said and Josh swatted his arm.
“Brave,” Josh growled, and my Alphas laughed.
Three days later, I walked into the kitchen and Josh and Blake had sheets of paper sprawled out across the kitchen table. Furrowing my brow, I went to the cupboard to grab some sherbet cookies.
“Whatcha doing?” I asked, seeing the paper sprawled out.
Josh was busy focusing on his tasks. “So we’ll have fish on Tuesdays, because Layla said she likes salmon occasionally—not too often, we wouldn’t want to overload her. And, no salt on the salmon, she’s trying to keep her sodium down, right?”
Blake nodded, eagerly listening to his pack mate. “And chicken three nights a week—she wants poached chicken breast, no extra seasoning so she can eat at maintenance. And red meat once a week, no more, no less. That’ll be hell for us, but we’ll manage. We can get all of this at the farmers’ market, and she can focus on her studio.”
It hit me all at once—
My Alphas were planning our weekly meal schedule.
I peered at the paper, trying to stop myself from swooning.
“Guys,” I cleared my throat, drawing their attention.
Blake ticked his head up, looking guilty. “Oops. Caught in the act.”
Josh whisked the paper away.
“You’re a busy Omega, Layla. The last thing we’d want is for you to have to keep slaving over meal prep.”
They were planning my meals. Not justcookingfor me, but actually planning what to buy, what days to eat it, and taking into account what’d I’d told them about my food.
They knew I wanted to eat low sodium—and instead of laughing at me, or telling me “just try it” while shoving a heavily salted piece of salmon or steak my way, they listened.
They just… prepared around my likes, my wants. My desires: they weren’t ignored around these Alphas, and the packs I’d dated in the past seemed even worse.
How many Alphas had just… cooked what they wanted, or even brow-beat me into cooking what they craved? I certainly hadn’t been asked what Ineeded,unless it was a pre-planned date night or something, and they were trying to suck up to me.
Meal prep requires so much more time, effort, and planning… And truly, it was like a weight off my back.
Next day, I went into my studio, and I created a vase. I didn't even think about my food, what I’d have to prepare for my Alphas. From my window, I peeked at Josh and Blake carrying groceries into the house, and I trembled:
They even went grocery shopping for me.
Much as I loved browsing fresh peaches and treats at the farmers’ market, actuallyshoppingfor necessities did not spark joy. It was work, too much like something I was expected to do… not shopping for myself.
Now, my Alphas handled thenot-fun shopping.The work shopping, so that when I went to the farmers’ market next, I could be the one to have fun.
My heart fluttered, and I had to fan myself to prevent tears from raining out. “Can’t get any water on my glass vase,” I muttered, taking it to the kiln and locking it inside so I wouldn’t break it.
Then,I went to my artist’s desk, and buried my head in my arms. Where had they been all my life?
