Page 13 of Small Town Shy Omega
“Oh, is she still in contact with you?”
“She reached out to me after the breakup, and berated me.” More tears welled in my eyes, but I thought of the note. The note in my breast pocket sustained me. It gave me strength, power, and hope through difficult conversations—not that Icouldn’tjust barrel my way through tough talks about my former mother-in-law, who’d behaved so cruelly toward me—narcissist,I thought with a shiver—but the note from Blake just supported me.
Icouldtalk about my former mother-in-law without a man holding my hand and telling me I was brave for speaking my truth.
But…
It felt nice, I thought as I ate some of my lunch, it was just nice to have a pack who understood. Who supported me, stood in my corner. In a way other packs hadn’t.
“I was never the problem,” I suddenly realized, turning my dewy eyes up.
Irene made a sympathetic face. “Oh, Layla. How could you ever think you were?”
“I don’t know, I just…”
All my life, Alphas and even other Omegas had tried to keep me down. I couldn’t fathom that I’d ever listened to them, when I was so much…
More.
“You’re more, baby.”Dreydon let out a growl, holding my hand tight. He’d re-shingled my entire cottage roof, hardly breaking a sweat—and when he came in, he simply shrugged and offered me a smile.He doesn’t need praise,I thought, burying my cheeks behind my paperback.He’s not like other Alphas…He didn't even break a sweat.And good, I also thought. Good, he was fulfilling his natural role. Completing his Alpha duty.
I lifted my eyes, the blueberry wine we’d been gifted from Gretel earlier that morning making my head hum. “I am?”
“Your former mother-in-law didn't see you, Layla,” Blake whispered, his voice prickled with pain. “She didn't see…your goddess inside,and damnit—I do.Wedo: once seen, it’s impossible to unsee.”
My lower lip dipped in shock, and I tried to maintain my composure.
“My… inner goddess?”
“Every Omega has a goddess inside of her,” Josh finally rasped, and I was so glad to finally hear him open up. Be vulnerable, share his true feelings. About how incredible I was. “You’re more radiant than most, Layla. Stronger and far, far more powerful. Others don’t see your halo, butwedo.”
“But…” My voice trailed off, and I felt very appreciated—yet also very attacked, very cornered and confused—at that moment. “Why?”
“Why do you think we pledge ourselves to your service, Layla? You’re a queen, and re-fencing your garden, or re-shingling your home is an honor. It’s what any Alphaworth his fucking saltwould do, baby.”
Dreydon nodded sagely, sipping wine. “Kings work for their queen, baby. That’s what you are—you could build a million-dollar company, write a bestselling novel, or travel the world.”
“You’re an Omega queen,” Blake said with a shrug, as if this was the spot obvious thing ever.
I set my wine glass down. “But I run a glassworks studio. You didn't mention that. Are you saying I couldn’t build my glassworks business up to even greater success?”
“You can do anything: scale your artistry, sell more amazing glass vases than any other artisan the world.” Dreydon was adamant on that fact.
I turned to Blake, fanning myself with the optometrist’s eye exam sheet. “Blake,” I whispered, heat panging through me, “before I went out to lunch with Irene today, I was at the optometrist…”
I told Blake about being at the optometrist, my tears marring my vision, and at that moment, I felt like a little girl again. A little girl, reading a storybook in her bed with her grandpa…
“There was a time,” I sniffled as I finished up my story, “when I thought that little girl was gone. Alphas didn't see the girl I used to be, they only viewed the Omega they could use as a slave.”
Dreydon nodded. Listening, tenderly and patiently—though not too patiently, not intensely, like he was a white knight type or anything. “I hear you,” he growled punctually.
Short, sweet, nothing excessive… He just… heard me. Didn't excessively praise me, didn't bow down before me. Just the way I liked… at this moment.
I pitted my eyes to Blake and Josh. “You see me. I appreciate it, and I want to let you know, I feel seen. Thank you.”
Days later,I picked out some new chairs at the farmers’ market.
My old dining room chairs, the ones with fabric seats, befell a terrible misfortune when I dyed the seats with root dye and the dye wasn’t strong enough, so half of it bled out. All I was trying to do was attempt a fun craft project.
