Short, sharp, but not especially loud, Brendan’s command stopped Charlene in a way I didn’t think anyone else could.
“You have questions, all of you,” he continued. “I get that. But now’s not the time. I met Cyn last night. We’ve barely even had any time to spend together. You wanted to meet her and I’ve brought her around, but everyone needs to chill the fuck out or this is all you’re going to see. You’re right—we do care about omegas. We don’t want them to be overwhelmed, and I’ve just introduced her into a freaking hot house of attention, with so many strangers and noise and questions and opinions. Everyone needs to calm down, enjoy the lovely food Mum has worked hard to make, and just relax.”
I put my fork down, unable to force another bite now, my stomach starting to roil, until a heavy arm came to rest on the back of my chair, his hand curling around my shoulders.
“It’s OK, omega,” he murmured, but the low tone wasn’t any less commanding than his bark. It was the intent that mattered. “You’re doing very well.”
“I’m so sorry. I’ve been over the top again,” Charlene said
“Yes, you have, Char. We talked about this.”
“You’re right, Bren—we should just enjoy this.”
Just keep breathing, I told myself. Breathe in and out, in and out.
And when I finally looked up, once the noise had returned and the conversations had resumed, I saw that everything was as Bren had said. He leaned over the table now, elbows resting either side of his plate, talking to his dad and brothers about the footy. The wives and sisters and cousins all chattered away too, yelling out warnings to kids edging towards the pool too soon after the meal, seeing to babies that cried or toddlers that had fallen over.
“Uncle Bren said the F-word,” one child piped up.
“I know, and he’s very, very naughty. Aren’t you, Uncle Bren?” said one of the wives, their names a blur now.
“Too right, Verity,” he replied with a sniff and smile. “I’m sorry. No one should be saying that word.”
And so we held it together until after the food had been cleared away and the dishwasher stacked, all offers of help from me refused. Then the kids went back into the pool, and the conversations became slower, lazier, quieter.
“Well, I need to get back. I’ve got some stuff to sort out at the club before we open,” Brendan said.
“Thanks for coming and bringing Cyn by, love,” Charlene said, following us to the door.
“It’s been good to see you, son,” Simon added. “Maybe next time, you could bring those boys of yours with you?”
Brendan’s grip on my hand tightened to the point of almost pain as he stopped and stared down at his parents. He was so big, so functional, they looked tiny by comparison, and yet he looked down at them with a kind of desperation in his eyes I couldn’t watch for long. I moved in carefully, slowly, wrapping myself around his body, his hand going to my shoulders on automatic.
“I’ll see if they’re up for it,” Brendan replied finally, “but I appreciate you asking. Bye, Mum, Dad.”
After the last goodbyes, I was frogmarched over to the car, the door opened for me with a wrench and shut with just as much force when I got in. I pulled on the seatbelt, sensing he was about to throw the car into gear at speed. He turned the key in the ignition, hands wrapped tight around the steering wheel until his knuckles went white, before he pulled out of the park.
He didn’t scream up the road, probably because his parents were still waving from the doorstop as we drove away, but he punched the call button on the dash, the sound of a phone ringing coming through the speakers.
“How’d it go?”
That was Orion, wary but calm.
“Shit. Shit. So fucking shit.” He shot me a sidelong look, then flicked his gaze to the rear vision mirror, checking to see if there was anyone behind us as we pulled over beside a children’s park. “Mum went fucking overboard, as per usual. Like, she was trying. Fuck, was she trying.”
“OK, trying is good, Bren. It’s a fuck load more than my parents will ever do. They love you, mate.”
“I know. It’s just…”
We both waited, quiet as mice, for the words to come, but they didn’t. The tension in Brendan’s arms made every damn muscle pop, the cab of the car filling with musky sweet alpha pheromones.
“It’s done, Bren. Come to the club. Rhys is here. We’ll settle you. How did your mum respond to Cyn?”
“She loved her.” That was gasped out, like it tore something in him to say the words, and I was just left with the confusing tumble of questions as to why.
“Of course she did. Come home. Come to us.”
“I’m on my way.”