Page 1 of Neighbors' Omega
Chapter 1
~June~
Ichuckled as I crossed the library parking lot. My friend Ash’s car was in the same spot he’d parked the night before, which meant that he was spending his heat with one of the alphas he’d been crushing on for months.
I was both happy for him, and upset. I hadn’t been comfortable letting him work so close to his heat, but he’d insisted that he was fine. That he’d clearly gone home with somebody else proved my concerns were justified. However, he’d been drooling over the members of a local lacrosse team for months, so he was likely in a state of orgasmic bliss and would come in on Monday ready to share all the details.
My stomach rumbled—a reminder that I’d won a bet. Ash owed me a trip to the new cupcake bakery once he returned from his heat, since there was no way he could deny being on the fun end of a knot with his car still in the lot.
I pulled my keys from my pocket as I approached the doors. The student worker opening with me, Dawn, was already waiting outside.
“Morning Jace,” she said, sliding her phone back into her pocket.
“Morning,” I replied. “You’re here early.”
She shrugged. “Decided to walk this morning. Guess I gave myself too much time.”
I smiled. “Liking off-campus life?”
She grinned as we walked into the library. “I have a kitchen! I never realized how much I would miss it until I didn’t have access to it.”
I laughed. “I hear you there. Where I went to college they required freshmen to live in the dorms unless their family lived within forty-five minutes, and the student lived at home. It was horrible. The cafeteria staff never liked how much I ate, and I spent so much on snacks too. I was out of there as soon as it was allowed, just so I could get into the kitchen again.”
She nodded as we walked into the circulation area and turned on the computers. “Part of me understands why dorms only have shared kitchens, if any at all. The schools have these big contracts with food companies to run the cafeterias. But then the older crowd wants to complain that twenty-somethings don’t know how to cook. I mean, having access to the tools would help.”
“My favorite argument was always to ask who failed to teach whatever quote-unquote life skill was lacking. How are you supposed to know what you aren’t taught?”
“Right?” she exclaimed. “Blaming somebody for not knowing something they’ve never been taught reflects more on the failures of the generation that didn’t teach those skills.”
I chuckled. “You got that right.”
I was about to ask her to grab any returns that came in overnight, then my phone rang. I pulled it free and stared at the unknown number on the screen.
“I’ll get the lights,” Dawn said, and I nodded in response.
“Jace,” I answered.
“Mr. Matthews?” asked the caller.
“Yes?”
“My name is Darren Baum, Edna Baum’s son.”
“Edna?” I asked. “My landlady?”
“That’s correct.”
I frowned. “Is everything ok with her?”
“Unfortunately, my mother passed away a couple weeks ago.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you.”
He paused, and a stone started to form in the pit of my stomach.
“Do I need to change the account numbers for the rent payments?” I asked, hoping that was all.
