Page 20 of The Omega Lesson

“He’s not going to mind us crashing?” I ask around another huge yawn.

Mattie laughs and snuggles in tighter. “Knowing the little freak, he’s probably gonna creep into bed with us at some stage, so get ready for that.”

Another Lyall boy in my clutches? I smirk, because I’m certain Travis is going to be thrilled. But I figure the guys can sort out the bed arrangements amongst themselves. As far as my poor, tired body is concerned, the backseat is as good as anywhere, and I drift off to the sound of Mattie’s heartbeat under my ear, and the scent of satisfied omega all around me.

Travis

I watch as Jack carries Alexa Novak – the cute kid who I hung out with for a few summers – towards our other brother’s house, and grit my teeth. Noah is still down south checking out a new racehorse, so I help myself to his spare keys and head through the dark hallway into the large living area. The house is a sprawling colonial mansion Noah is forever in the process of renovating. He’s keeping the original bones with its Victorian brickwork, balconies, and turrets, but the interior is a mix of rustic farmhouse and bachelor pad.

As much as I feel conflicted about her being here, I’m glad Alexa is asleep when we reach the main part of the house. On this floor is the kitchen, parlour, billiards room, library, and an open living space that Noah calls his rumpus room. I prefer to think of it as the rampage room, because this is where our youngest brother entertains his guests, and I grimace to find it in its usual state of mayhem. His last party is strewn across the huge sectional sofa, marble fireplace, and most unforgivably, the grand piano. I wince at the water marks on the glossy top of the Steinway, not to mention the cigarette butts put out on the velvet stool. My fingers physically itch to dig out his cleaning equipment, but I restrain myself. Just.

I hate coming here. Everywhere I look in this house, there’s another trigger for my anxiety. The party crap is bad enough, but it’s the scuff marks on the original parquet floors and the gouges out of the embossed wallpaper that I can’t forgive. Noah would just pick at them with his heel or thumbnail and mutter about taking care of them tomorrow, but it drives me insane. Which is why my house is a soulless apartment in the city, heavy on security and non-porous surfaces.

Fuck, but I’m twitchy tonight. I took a couple of Xanax earlier in the evening but now I’m regretting them. I thought it would be an ordinary dinner with Ben, his family, and one hundred of the most tedious alumni Prendiville ever produced. I was determined to drink nothing, smile only when I had to, and leave as soon as possible. But then I saw Drummond – the biggest sadist in the school – dragging Alexa down a dark corridor. And I lost my ever-loving shit.

I might have pretended it was Ben’s scent that caught my attention, but I was suddenly striding across the room because ofher. Because she smelled like the past, like a home I never got to see, like good memories in a sea of bad, and like the pack I failed before it ever had a chance to form.

And then I saw her, backed up against a wall, her defences on high alert.

Alexa. The girl who once looked at me as if I was the reason she got out of bed in the morning.

If her scent wasn’t already sour with stress, I would have strangled the bastard on the spot, and served his lifeless body up to her as a trophy.

Which is not me. I don’t do rage. Or jealousy. Or whatever it was that drove me to down three glasses of whiskey in under ten minutes. But fuck me. When Alexa looked at the Cliff brothers the exact way she once looked atme, I felt a surge of envy so strong it nearly knocked me off my feet.

And then Ben dropped another bomb.

Jackson is home.

I video call my brother every couple of weeks. I update him on our various business interests, and he tells me what’s happening in London. Despite the crap Jackson has had to deal with, he’s a big deal in the world of sustainable agriculture. He already runs his own lab, exploring new water efficient farming methods and developing cutting-edge technology to eliminate soil degradation and erosion. The way he gives back to the farming community, you’d never believe he came from a long line of land grabbers and pesticide peddlers.

Jackson is both the greatest achievement of the Lyall family, and our greatest shame.

I live every day regretting that I didn’t stop dad from sending him away. But at the same time, I’m fucking grateful I was so weak. Because Gordon Lyall only got worse with age. And the thought of Jackson being caught in the path of one of his feral rages…

Shit. I don’t need to speed dial my therapist to know I might have projected some of my trauma onto tonight’s situation.

Even though I know it’s a bad idea, I grab another drink from the bar in the corner and pull out my phone. I scroll right past my therapist’s number and call my next line of defence – my cleaning crew. I leave a message with the polite and very discreet woman, and she promises to have Noah’s house back in shape by morning. If anyone else tried to creep around our property while I was asleep, I’d go after them with an axe, but these people are my people. They can deep clean an oven and make it look like a work of art.

I finish my drink, my head starting to swim from mixing alcohol with the benzos. Leaving the living room to its squalor, I slowly head upstairs after the others. The second floor has six guest bedroom suites, each one with a faded copper plaque on the door, announcing its design scheme. Cottage Roses. Woodland Escape. Vineyard View. All very kitsch, and something I thought Noah would dump on day one, but he’s kept them for some reason. So, when I do stay over – which is rare – I take the Sea Breeze room. It’s pale and tranquil, with just the right amount of morning light…

And of course, that’s where the others have decided to crash.

Right in the middle of the Savoir mattress I had delivered after my first uncomfortable night in this room.

“Jesus, this thing’s like a cloud,” Matthew moans as he sinks into my Mongolian cashmere and British lamb’s wool bed. “Fuck, I might never leave.”

I scowl at that, but then he rolls onto his side and runs a gentle hand down the side of Alexa’s face. I’ve avoided looking at her until now for a number of reasons. The first is because I said some pretty shitty things to her, both in the dining hall and the carpark. The second is because the memory of her riding my brother in the back of the limousine is impossible to shake. Head back, hips undulating, that long line of her spine arching as her thigh muscles clenched and released…

But mostly because the girl I remember didn’t glare at me. Even when I didn’t defend her, or include her, or show the slightest hint of how I felt about her.

“Will you stay with her?” Matthew nods, still stroking her face, and then Jackson is at the door, pushing me further into the hall. He looks like a wreck, but there’s a fucking glow about him that makes my chest hurt.

“You’ve switched.” Not hello, or welcome home, but straight to the chase. This is typical of how our conversations go, but I still wince as his dark eyes flash with hurt.

“Downstairs,” he growls, turning on a heel.

Instead of heading back into party central, he goes into the kitchen and I breathe a sigh of relief. Noah always keeps his pantry well stocked and I need something to soak up the alcohol sloshing in my gut. But instead of going to the fridge, Jack reaches under the sink and starts pulling out cleaning supplies.

---