Page 56 of Hidden Fates

I’m reluctant to leave her, but the stern glare she levels has my feet moving. I guess we’ll have plenty of time to talk if she’s going to live here. “Dinner will be ready at five. Do you want me to come walk you up to the house?”

She waves me off. “I can follow the driveway, Sterling. Now get.”

“Thank you,” I tell Q again as we leave.

Shrugging, he says, “I knew you’d feel better if she were here. And if you were worried about her, Skye would be too.”

He always connects the things he does for us to Skye, as if he’s too afraid to admit he just wanted to help us. Or maybe he really sees this as a way to relieve our Omega of a potential burden.

Either way, I’m grateful for his thoughtfulness. I feel lighter as we head back to the house, my mind running through dozens of options for dinner. Tonight we’re celebrating, so I have to go big.

A hand wraps around the back of my neck, and I’m spun to face Onyx, whose lips are pulled into the tiniest smile. “Thanksgiving is in two weeks; no need to go crazy tonight. Mama Aisha won’t want the fanfare.”

Deflating, I lean into his touch. He’s right. Mom will scold me if I do anything fancy.

I should stick to something comforting. There’s a lamb shoulder in the fridge I can use to make a stew. It’s still early, giving me time to let it slow-cook and make fresh rolls.

Conversation fades away as we step back into the house, and I lose myself in dinner plans. Cooking is a hobby I fell in love with as a kid. Helping my mama in the kitchen, measuring, kneading, the repetitive motions and processes kept my mind calm.

After my father died when I was in elementary school, part of me saw how messed up the community in Kolcruz was. The way they preyed on the weak. On my grieving mother. But I was too young to understand what was happening, just that it made me feel unsettled. So I spent my weekday evenings in the kitchen cooking with Mama, helping her escape what was happening.

Soft hands wrap around my waist, squeezing me tight as I overwork my dough. Shit, I was too lost in thought.

“You okay?” Skye asks, her cheeks pressed against my spine. I can feel her prodding at our bond, having sensed the dark turn my thoughts had taken. Cooking should be a happy memory for me, but separating the bad from the good isn’t always easy.

“I’m good, precious. Just making dinner to celebrate Mama moving into the empty apartment.”

Skye pats my stomach and steps to the side. She leans against the counter, batting her lashes when she catches me staring at her. I steal a quick kiss, unable to resist her.

Chuckling, she wipes flour from my forehead. “I’m glad she’s here. Life wouldn’t be the same with her so far away.”

“I love you.”

And Fates, do I ever.

Skye cares for my mother as much as I do, always putting in the time to visit or call her. Their relationship means the world to me. The whole pack, really. They all take care of my mama.

Movement across the room draws my attention to Caleb, who is returning from a run. His cut-off tee is soaked in sweat, making the fabric cling to his body. Skye watches him with heated eyes, her thighs pressing together as the sweet scent of her arousal trickles into the air.

When these two finally get over the gap between them, it’s going to be explosive. And I know I’m not the only one who hopes that Caleb might be open to more with the rest of us.

Draping towels across the bowl of dough, I set it at the back of the counter to rise. I have a few hours before I have to check on anything, so I wash my hands and swoop Skye into my arms. Cuddling with my mate is a great way to spend that time.

She sighs happily as I carry her to my bedroom and deposit her on the large hanging swing. The view out the windows is dreary with the gray clouds and brown-leaved trees, but her eyes still light with wonder.

“Do you want a book to read?” I ask her as I grab my notebook and a pen.

“I’m still a little tired, so I’ll just steal your warmth and take a nap.”

Careful not to rock the swing, I climb on behind her and pull her against my side. A buttery-soft throw drapes across us as she lets out the sweetest sound of contentment. I hold her close as I let my thoughts drift to our band.

Ever since the afternoon we spent in the music room practicing with Caleb, I started reworking some of our old songs to include him. Not all of them will mesh with his style, so we’ll need new music.

My eyes drift to Skye, thinking of the pain she’s suffered from their separation. Pain they both felt, but didn’t understand. The words trickle through my mind. Slow at first, before coming in a steady stream.

By the time my alarm goes off, reminding me to check on dinner, I have the lyrics to two songs complete. I check on my dough, shaping it into balls and letting it sit to rise another time, and peek at the roast in the oven.

Skye wanders out, her stomach rumbling and delight brightening her jade-green eyes. “That smells amazing.”