Page 34 of Scent to the Feral Cowboys
The oil lamp's flame reached higher as I absently turned the knob. The golden light spread further across the kitchen. My gaze roved the space, landing on our mugs hanging from hooks beneath a cabinet. Boone's giant blue monstrosity. Levi's sleek black one. Cooper's novelty mug featuring a squirrel and its nuts. And mine and Wyatt’s matching pair. His said ‘Copy’ and mine said ‘Paste’.
Five mugs. No empty hooks waiting to be filled.
Not yet.
My gaze drifted to the calendar pinned to our refrigerator with magnets shaped like various farm animals. Tomorrow's date had a red circle around it and Cooper's messy handwriting scrawled across the square: "Horse finally arrives!" We were about to take delivery of a white mare for an Omega we didn't have yet. The mare was reportedly young, gentle, smaller than our other horses. Delivery had been delayed twice, but the company had compensated by refunding transport fees.
I closed the Animal Husbandry book with a soft thud and leaned back in my chair, suddenly thinking about how the new horse was going to be a thorn in our side if we never found a match. A constant damn reminder of what never happened.
I rubbed my eyes, feeling the grit of exhaustion but knowing sleep would continue to elude me.
Instead of sinking into depression, I started imagining what would happen if Eros did succeed.
Would our Omega even know how to ride? If not, would they want to learn?
I could teach them… show them how to use gentle pressure of knees against flanks to communicate with the horse, guide theirhands on the reins until they found their confidence, help them learn to mount and dismount with ease.
I would teach them how to find freedom in a saddle.
The image formed unbidden in my mind: small hands beneath mine, a body fitting perfectly in front of me, the sweet scent of an Omega mixing with Wyoming air. I pushed the imaginary scene away before it could take root. Hope was dangerous when it grew too specific, too detailed.
I ran my finger along a groove in the wooden table, worn smooth by years of similar motions. How many times had I sat at this very spot, late at night, wondering if I'd ever find what my grandparents had? That perfect fit, the completion that came from finding your true match. They’d been a pack of two, with an unshakable foundation.
I didn't mind the physical closeness I shared with my pack brothers. But it wasn't the same as what I craved. It wasn't that soul-deep recognition and sense of coming home that I'd seen in my grandparents' eyes when they looked at each other.
Rubbing my hands together, I felt the calluses and small scars from years of ranch work. These hands knew how to mend fences, deliver calves, soothe a scared foal. They were competent, capable hands. But they didn't know the feel of my Omega's skin, the curve of their cheek, the softness of their hair.Would they ever?
I shook my head, fighting back depression again.
The horse. Just think about the horse we were getting tomorrow.
We wouldn’t give it a name yet. Its rider should do that. I wondered what our Omega would pick. Would their face light up at the sight of the white mare? Would their face light up at the sight of me and my pack brothers? Would they fit into our lives seamlessly, as if they’d always existed within our world?
Nothing was certain.
Except that tomorrow was one more act of faith.
That our Omega existed.
That Eros hadn't taken our money, our blood, our scent for nothing.
That we weren't chasing a fantasy.
I yawned, suddenly overcome by a wave of weariness.
I had to believe that our Omega existed. And when they arrived, they’d find a place waiting for them. A home. A loving pack. A white mare with no name yet.
After extinguishing the oil lamp, I stood up and rolled my shoulders to ease the tension that had settled there. Quietly, I moved through the rambler. A smile tugged my mouth when I found Boone stretched out on the sofa, one giant leg tossed over the back cushions, the other completely off the sofa, his bare foot flat against the area rug. House had five small bedrooms, but Boone had given up his to give Levi an office. He alternated between sleeping with Coop or Levi. I’d seen him head into the former’s tonight, so I’d bet good money Cooper was snoring like a freight train. And if Levi knew he was bunking solo, the guy stretched across the entire bed.
Sometimes, I wanted in on their trio. They’d welcome me in a heartbeat.
But I didn’t fit with them the way they fit with each other.
Casual was fine, but there was no forcing the kind of connection they’d forged.
I finished the journey to my room, shuffled to the bed, and collapsed on top of the covers. My thoughts drifted, fragmenting as sleep began to claim me. I wanted to check on the ducks tomorrow morning. They always came when I called, waddling up from the water's edge for the cracked corn filling my pockets.Would our Omega want to feed them with me? Would they care about my ducks? Would they think it was silly that I’d oncehatched and raised a flock of them, treating them like my own damn kids?
I pictured a snow-white mare galloping through our pastures, a faceless rider on its back.
