Chapter One
Aaron Lewis
You need to get out more.
Do something for you.
You are more than your job.
“I’m happy with my life.” I mumbled my pat response each and every time my grandfather brought up my very single status. Not that he was there to hear it. No, he was back home hanging with his menagerie, and I was driving to the community center to sign up for a class to appease him.
I didn’t even care what class, just something so I could tell him I was getting out more and doing something for me. I wasn’t though. I was doing something for him, which was pretty freaking counterproductive if you asked me.
What Gramps didn’t understand was I loved my job, and putting in the hours I did wasn’t hiding in my career—it was thriving in it. I loved teaching. Every time a student had an aha moment or stepped outside their comfort zone and soared or created something they never thought possible—that was everything.
The parking lot at the center was packed, which made my heart happy. After the fire, there were mumblings in town that it would never be rebuilt, not fully anyway. They thought once routines were broken and people found other childcare or places to work out they wouldn’t come back. They underestimated the community the center had created.
I drove around back when I found no spots in the normal lot and slammed on my brakes. Kids. So many kids playing in the lot. How was that even safe? There were all congregated in the back corner, and it took me a second to notice the cones surrounding them, warding off drivers. I slowly took my foot off the brake and found the nearest spot.
“Mr. Lewis!” The voices began before I even got fully out of the car. “Mr. Lewis!”
I smiled and waved at the children playing, recognizing most of them, and walked over.
“Hey, guys.” I stopped outside the cones, unsure what the after-school program’s rules were about that. “Having fun?”
“Naw,” sighed Kyle. “Not really. It’s boring out here.” Looking around, I could see why. They had a few boxes of sidewalk chalk and some jump ropes, not much else.
“You can draw a picture,” I suggested. “You can draw some of those box people you like.”
“I did.” He pointed behind him where an enormous mural bloomed on the pavement. “We did that Monday and that one Tuesday and that one Wednesday.” He pointed to one after another. “Not really wanting to draw anymore. I want to climb.”
“And I want to swing,” piped up Robert.
“And I want to play soccer,” added Laney.
“Children, leave Mr. Lewis alone.” Ms. Megan, the after-school program director shooed them away. My grandfather thought I lived my job. Ms. Megan worked at the school as a paraprofessional all morning and then came here to run up an entire program. She was the epitome of letting her job be her identity.
“Sorry about them. They are just bored.”
“Don’t let them hear you say that,” I teased. I’d overheard Ms. Megan telling the kids more than once that only boring people get bored.
“Right?” She half laughed. “But seriously, this is the entirety of their play area out here.” She swished her arm to indicate the small area of blacktop. “The playground got messed up during the rebuild, and they still haven’t raised enough to construct a new one.”
“I thought they were just waiting for better weather.” A pit grew in my stomach. “How close are they?”
Kids needed a safe place to play. Fresh air and running weren’t frivolous. They were a necessity.
“Not sure.” She lowered her voice so the kids tearing by wouldn’t overhear. “But the daycare is facing some possible licensing issues if they don’t figure it out soon.” I hadn’t even thought about that angle. So many people in town relied on the daycare. The town came together to support them after the fire and raised a ton of money selling cookies. Sounded like they didn’t quite raise enough.
She turned from me. “Michael, we keep our hands and feet to ourselves.” She patted my arm. “Gotta go.” And half jogged over to the boys who were doing I didn’t even know what. She had a gift for seeing mischief a second ahead of it actually occurring.
“Bye?” I called then walked around the building and inside.
“Mr. Lewis.” The greeter at the information desk, a former student, waved. Gah, I was getting old. Sure, she was still in high school, but when I was her teacher, I was teaching her to tie her shoes and add single digits. “Welcome to Dellburn Community Center.”
“Madeline, how long have you been working here?” I stepped up to the help desk.
“I just started after the reopening.” She beamed up at me. “Are you here for kickboxing?”
Kickboxing? Me? There was no way that would end well…ever.
“I don’t know what I am here for, but I’m pretty sure that’s not it.” She looked up at me, perplexed. “I was thinking about taking a class. Trying something new is always fun.”
She handed me the booklet of classes, and I sat at one of the small tables in the lobby and perused them.
Dancing? Nope. No fun without a partner.
Cooking? That was a possibility. I was a decent cook. Decentish anyway.
Furniture refinishing? It sounded amazing for someone who had a piece of furniture they wanted to redo, which I did not.
I continued with the list. There were a ton of sports-related activities, a handful of musical ones, and two pages of computer-based courses. I hadn’t realized how much they offered. The variety for such a small town blew my mind.
“Aaron.” Carin, the director, startled me from my booklet. “What brings you here? I haven’t seen you since last year’s spring musical.” Had it been that long? Maybe I had been working too hard.
“I’m about to change that. I’m thinking of taking a class.” I tapped the booklet. “Still deciding what.”
“What about the pie class?” She flipped the pages and put her finger on the description. “It means you get to eat yummy pie.”
“I do like pie, but I am a pretty kick-butt piemaker already.” It was one of the things I’d done with my grandfather every Thanksgiving since I was a small child.
“I’ll sign you up for the bake sale, then.” She whipped out a steno pad and started writing. “Do you know what kind of pie? I mean it doesn’t matter, but it would be nice not having seventy-two apple pies.”
“Bake sale? Like the one you had in December?” They hadn’t just been selling cookies—no, they were auctioning off dates, and I very much didn’t need a date.
She nodded.
“I think I will pass.” I felt awful about it. Maybe I could write a check. It wouldn’t be huge, but it didn’t need to be if everyone pitched in, right?
“I’m going to be frank with you.” She sat on the chair across from me. “Licensing is up our backside to get the enclosed playgrounds done…playgrounds with an S. We need one for the infants and toddlers, one for the preschool, and one for the after-school care. If we lose our license, all the hard work we have put into this place would be for nothing.”
“I don’t know. Can’t the guys from last time bake again? I saw you raised a lot of money.”
“The thing is, more than half of them are couples now.” She rolled her eyes. “All ridiculously happy and such.”
“I could write a check?” I did some calculation in my head. If I gave a few hundred dollars, it wouldn’t drain my emergency fund down to nothing so as long as nothing major needed fixing or repairing…
“A thousand-dollar check? Because that is an average of how much the cookies brought in.”
A thousand dollars. A stupid date brought in a thousand dollars? I mean, sure, I knew that selling sex could bring that kind of money, but these were wholesome dates. Even factoring in generosity, I assumed a hundred or two max.
“Okay,” I all but whispered. If I could bring in a thousand dollars by baking a pie and taking someone on a date, then how could I refuse? The center was in need—my students were in need. It was the least I could do.
I mean, it was one date. Right?
“Nothing fancy, but I think it’s one of your favorites—penne capri.” She gave me a smile and turned back to slicing mushrooms.
Our voices echoed in the spacious kitchen of my parents’ home. My parents were well off, you could say, thanks to my dad’s long career as a lawyer and more recently, a judge.
I took a jug of orange juice from the fridge and poured myself a glass.
“Mmm, sounds fantastic. Too bad I can’t stick around for dinner.”
“Oh? Why not, Easton? You’ve been doing a great job of avoiding our family meals lately.” Mom turned to me with a frown. Her hair was cut stylishly short and was a brilliant silver. It suited her personality perfectly.
“I’m going to this thing tonight.” I was being vague on purpose. In an attempt to distract her, I poured her a glass of juice and handed it to her. There was no need for her to know about the bachelor auction I’d be attending. Not that there was anything wrong with it in principle—it was for a good cause—but I knew she’d get all excited and convince herself that I’d meet my mate at the event, which wasn’t my intention at all.
“What thing? You can’t stay? Daniel will be here any minute with his husband and kids.”
I struggled not to grimace. My brother’s presence was even more reason for me to get the hell out of there. I loved my brother, because flesh and blood and all that, but could only take him in small doses, and when our dad was around, the atmosphere could get downright toxic for me.
Daniel was the prodigal son. He’d always been the more ambitious of the two of us—at least when it came to financial rewards. We’d both become lawyers, but while he became partner at a prestigious Chicago firm, I was content to practice in our hometown of Dellburn, Wisconsin, taking on all sorts of cases ranging from employment disputes to landlord-tenant issues, and I ensured that one-quarter of my cases were pro-bono files.
I had a strong belief that access to law and justice was a fundamental right. You could have all the legal protections in the world, but they were useless if they were inaccessible due to high legal fees.
I was proud of my work, but knew my family thought I was wasting too much time on the little guy. Daniel, on the other hand, was making cash hand over fist by acting for some of the biggest corporations in the country. His hourly rate was astronomical, and he never had to chase clients for payment. Firms had whole departments devoted to that. Needless to say, there were several rungs between us on the economic ladder.
I was glad that I’d be at the bachelor auction later tonight. Dinner at home would have consisted of Dad and Daniel discussing all their important cases and files, with the occasional question thrown at me about my own work, and with Mom casting sympathetic looks my way.
I asked Mom about her job at the hospital. She was a nurse in the local hospital’s psychiatric unit and it was tough and thankless work. I knew she needed an outlet from time to time, someone to talk to about her pent-up stress.
“So, where are you going tonight? Is it a secret? Maybe a hot date?” Mom grinned at me.
She was eager for me to settle down because she thought a mate would complete me. Little did she know that I had little interest in mating. My physical needs could be met by any number of willing and eager omegas in town, but I had no desire to give my heart to anyone. Not yet. Nevertheless, I’d agreed to tag along to this auction with my buddy Christopher, who was constantly on the hunt for a mate, new friends, or a warm body. He was the happy-go-lucky type.
According to him, it was a bachelor-slash-pie auction, with proceeds going to the erection of a new playground on the grounds of the newly reconstructed community center, which had burnt to the ground back in September last year. It was for a good cause, and I loved pie, so the decision to go had been an easy one to make.
I contemplated how much info to share with Mom. On the one hand, it would cheer her up, and I hated hiding anything from her. On the other, I was sure to face a barrage of questions afterward, with the possibility of her sharing my plans with Dad and Daniel. And that would suck major balls.
I leaned against the kitchen counter and casually told her about the auction, trying to sound as nonchalant about it as possible. Her reaction was just what I expected.
Her eyes widened, her blue irises sparkling under the pot lights.
“A bachelor auction? That sounds fantastic, honey. Who knows, maybe you’ll meet your omega there.”
I chuckled. “Relax, Mom. I’ll donate or throw in a bid for jokes, but I don’t plan on meeting anyone at an auction.”
“Why do you say it like that?” She frowned without missing a beat, pouring a healthy stream of olive oil into her pan. “It’s a perfectly respectable way to meet a man, and it sounds fun.”
I shrugged, looking for a way to change the subject. The doorbell rang, answering my prayers.
“Well, I must get going! Thanks for the chat, Mom! And give my love to Dad. Tell him I was sorry to miss him.”
She pursed her lips in disappointment for a moment, but quickly smiled as she accompanied me to the front door.
“Have fun, sweetie. And don’t forget to update me tomorrow, you hear?”
I pulled on my boots and put on my coat. Despite it being March fourteenth, spring felt like a lifetime away, and a beautiful layer of snow still covered the lawns of Dellburn.
“Bye, Mom,” I said. “And don’t tell everyone about tonight’s plans, okay?” I raised my brows for emphasis.
“Don’t worry, my lips are sealed.”
I swung the door open and was greeted by the sight of Daniel and his perfect family. My mood lightened as my eyes fell on his kids, a six-year-old girl and a three-year-old boy, their cheeks pink from the chill in the air
“Hey, princess! And there’s my little guy!” I said, squatting down to hug each of them in turn. I loved these two. Little Patrick always had a mischievous glint in his blue eyes, while Lexie was more serious. They were the most adorable kids I knew. The only downside to not having met anyone yet was that I didn’t have kids of my own, and seeing my nephew and niece was a reminder of that gaping hole in my life.
“Easton, nice to see you,” said Daniel, extending his hand, which I shook.
“Nice to see you, too. How are you, John?” I asked, addressing his omega mate. I’d always liked John, and at times I was fonder of him than of Daniel, even when they weren’t getting along.
Those two had somewhat of a tumultuous relationship but seemed to carry on unscathed and obviously loved each other. Thankfully, they were mature enough not to bicker in front of the kids.
We made small talk in the doorway and after a high-five to each kid, I was off. The early evening was noticeably chilly, prompting me to curse under my breath. I loved winter and snow and hot chocolate and all that, but enough was enough. It had been a long winter and I was ready for spring, damn it.
*****
At home, I took a quick shower and got dressed as I waited for my buddy Christopher to arrive. I groaned as I sat on my bed and leaned down to pull on my socks, making a mental note to get back into the gym as soon as possible. I was in pretty good shape, but I was also stiff as a board, and obviously needed a couple of sessions of yoga or pilates or whatever it was people did to get all limber.
My room was spacious and airy. I wasn’t as well off as my brother, but I managed to afford a decent sized house. It was a three-bedroom, detached, chalet-style home, with a pool in the backyard and a small sauna in the basement. My brain tingled at just the thought of the sauna. I looked forward to it at the end of a long week, because there was nothing like sitting back and letting heat envelop your entire body, feeling all the stresses and thoughts of the day melt away into nothingness.
There was no time for that tonight, though, because the auction was going to start in half an hour, and it was a ten-minute drive from home.
My cell rang and I strolled over to my dresser to answer—after screening, of course. Some clients had a habit of calling at all hours, even on the weekend, and I did my best to discourage such behavior, even if that meant ignoring a call now and then. I told every client that if they had an urgent matter, they could call the firm’s after-hours number, and one of us—Karen, Jake, or I—would answer the phone. I’d set up a special cell just for that purpose. This weekend was Jake’s turn, the most junior lawyer at the firm. Karen, another attorney, has been with us since almost the very beginning, and she was more like a sister than an employee or colleague.
“Hey, Chris. Where are you?”
“On my way. I’ll be about ten minutes. Do you need me to pick something up? A bottle of wine? A six pack, maybe?”
I grinned. You could always count on Chris for a decent pre-drinking session.
“A pinot grigio would hit the spot just about now.”
A slight buzz would probably help liven me up for this event. I glanced in the mirror and, satisfied with my appearance, I went downstairs to the kitchen and poured a cup of coffee. After smothering it with some whipped cream, I took a quick sip. I was a coffee junkie, there was no doubt about it. It didn’t matter what time of day it was. I could even drink it at night, with no ill effects on my sleep. It was a beautiful thing.
When Chris arrived, I opened the bottle while he got comfortable on the couch. I knew him so well that he didn’t even need to open his mouth—I knew exactly what he was thinking. I grinned as I brought him his glass and sat down next to him.
“Don’t say it...” I started.
“What?” He chuckled, taking a sip. “What shouldn’t I say? That I hope you meet someone? Come, on...it wouldn’t be the end of the world, would it? Maybe just for some fun?” He wiggled his eyebrows and laughed.
“I meet guys all the time and have plenty of fun. I don’t need anything serious. I like my personal life simple and straightforward. Feelings complicate things.”
“Relax, man. I’m not saying you have to settle down tomorrow, but I am saying keep an open mind. By the way, you look great.”
I grunted my thanks. “You’re fine to drive, right?” I asked him, glancing at his glass of wine.
“Yeah. This is my first one.”
“All right, let’s go. I’m starving. Remind me—what are we bidding on?” I knew he’d explained it all at least once, but I could be a total flake at times.
“Pies. And dates.”
My stomach growled. I loved pies. Fruity pies, meat pies, all kinds of pies. I’d never met a pie I didn’t like.
“Sounds good. Let’s get the hell out of here.”
1
Sasha
"That bastard broke up with me! Over text!"
I stare down at my phone in disbelief, at the message that my boyfriend had, apparently, written in haste. No, ex-boyfriend. The asshole.
- hey babe. dont think its going to work out. i think we shld see other peeple.
Aside from omitting the apostrophes or not even bothering to capitalize words, he couldn't even have bothered to spell “should” and "people" correctly.
Not going to work out? But we were having a great time. We'd been together for four months, enjoying each other's company and going on dates a couple of times each week. I didn't know that there had been anything missing in our relationship.
That there was something he wasn't happy with. Something that had to do with me.
Tears spring in my eyes, and I clamp my jaw shut, trying to stem the flow. Except, of course, when something happens like this out of nowhere, my emotions really don't know how to handle this turn of events.
And my twin brother can pick up on that. An omega like me, Christian has always been the more stable of us. And if there's one person who can come to my rescue, it's Christian.
He comes behind the couch that I'm perched upon and peers over my shoulder. "What the hell?" he mutters. "Call him. Maybe it's a mistake."
I glance over at him in disbelief. "A muh-mistake?" My voice wavers, and I'm seconds away from flat-out bawling. "A text like that?"
He frowns and gives a helpless shrug. "I don't know. But I do know it's shitty to break up with you over text. You deserve more than that. Hell, I'll have his balls in a necklace if this isn't some cruel joke."
I let out something that's between a laugh and sob. The idea of Christian — who is the spitting image of me, except he's far better dressed and has longer hair — wearing James's ball on a golden chain around his neck is...well, it's something.
He smiles that I've at least somewhat laughed.
I hit CALL on my phone and put it to my ear.
It rings once.
And then it goes to voicemail.
I pull the phone away, and look at it as James's voice recording comes through the speaker, cheerfully telling me to leave a voicemail and he'll get back to me.
"He declined the call," I say. My heart pounds in my chest, making me feel like it'll punch through my sternum.
"Try again," Christian prompts.
I'm about to, but then another text comes in.
-cant talk babe
"What?" I exclaim. If I were strong enough, I would have crushed my phone in my hands. As it is, I'm just whiteknuckled and feel the first tear fall down my face.
-but what about our trip? I text back. James and I are supposed to go to Mexico in two weeks' time at an all-inclusive adults-only resort off the Pacific Coast. He had surprised me with the tickets a month ago, which was something that felt a little new and too early for me, but I said yes.
I thought James was serious about me at that point.
-u really want to go? comes back James's reply.
I can't type my response fast enough before he comes back with another.
-look, i paid for the tix & its over for us. its best if we went our seperate ways.
"Dammit, the asshole can't even spell 'separate' correctly," I grit as more tears fall down my face.
Again, my thumbs can't type fast enough, and another message comes in.
-besides, i already told someone else he could go.
Every blood vessel in my body goes cold at reading that. That a new, random person could go. Not that another couple could go. No, that another man was going — with the alpha that up until now I had been dating.
"He's been cheating on you," Christian mutters, reflecting my very same thoughts. "That asshole has been cheating on you!"
"I..." I bite my lip and look out the window at the sunset. "I had no idea."
I toss my phone aside and put my head in my hands.
Don't cry, Sasha, I tell myself. Don't you dare cry.
Of course, it's too late, and I'm already bawling.
"Hey," Christian says, stepping over the back of the couch to sit next to me. He puts an arm around my shoulders. "He was an asshole and obviously didn't treat you right."
That only makes me cry harder. Because I thought he had been treating me right. We were having such a good time, and I truly like him. Liked him. Crap, I don't even know what to think now.
Christian — because I don't deserve a brother like him — gets up and goes to the kitchen, reappearing with two spoons and a gallon of ice cream that I'd been keeping in the fridge, just nibbling off it. I guess I didn't know that I would need it for an occasion like this.
Christian holds up the two spoons and raises an eyebrow. "Are you up for a rom com or for a sob fest of a movie? Or something else entirely?"
I take one of the spoons from him, sniffling as I do so. "Horror movie. I want to see people tripping when they run away from the monster."
Christian snickers and turns on the tv, searching for the latest B-movie. Finding one, we curl up on the sofa and watch. I cry at some points. I lean onto Christian for support — just like I've done for him in the past.
A broken heart sucks. And even when I fall asleep, I can't escape bad dreams. In them, I see James with some other man on his arm, only when I try talking to him, his words come back as text messages that I have to read. And while I'm broken up over what happened, he seems unperturbed. Business as usual.
I hate nightmares. "Hey, Sleeping Beauty, get up."
Through my sleep, I feel someone slapping at my feet.
I open my eyes. I've managed to fall asleep on the sofa, cradling the empty gallon of ice cream like it's a lifeline. Christian stands over me, wearing a nice, button-down shirt and slacks. Damn, if I ever put that much effort into my appearance, I would be a good-looking omega. Instead, I'm too busy with my computer programming to really care.
No wonder James left me.
I sniffle again, and my nose is stopped up.
Christian gives me a lopsided smile that's meant to be encouraging, but I know better. He has some sort of crazy idea in mind, and that usually involves me in some uncomfortable situation.
"What?" I croak.
He slaps my bare feet again. "Get ready. You had enough ice cream last night, I figured you could use some pie. And possibly a date."
I frown. "What?"
The lopsided smile turns wicked. "You're going with me to Bachelor Bake Sale."
I groan and turn away from him. "I don't want to, Christian."
He sits on the sofa, and faces me, taking my hands. "You're coming along, Sasha," he says seriously. "Let’s get you out of the house. There are some good-looking bachelors there to get your mind off that loser. Besides," he shrugs, "it's for a good cause. The kids at the community center need a new playground."
My twin knows exactly what to say to get me to do something. While kids are the farthest thing from my mind right now, he knows that I have a soft spot for kiddos.
I groan and sit up. "I don't have anything to wear."
And his wicked smile turns Grinch-like. "You're in luck, because I know one styling omega who has your exact measurements. Although," he looks concerned for a moment, "after that gallon of ice cream, you may be a little rounder in the middle than I am."
I throw a pillow at him, and he ducks and laughs. Guess I'm going to some weird bake sale.
