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You hadn’t planned on moving to Pittsburgh but when the opportunity came to live in the same city as one your pseudo brother, you couldn’t pass it up. You waited until you were settled into your new place for a couple of weeks before you called Robby to tell him you were in town. Your older brother’s best friend had always had a soft spot for you, even when you were the annoying little sister tumbling along in their footsteps. Now, years later, his familiar grin was the first friendly face you’d seen in a while.
“Look at you,” Robby said, pulling you into a bear hug that first night at a dive bar near your new apartment. “You look fantastic.”
You smacked his arm. “You just saw me in person ten months ago. We facetimed last week.”
Michael Robinavitch had been a fixture in your childhood home. Some of your earliest memories involved him and your brother. They had been inseparable through grade school and undergrad. Even after your brother moved to Seattle, Robby had kept in touch with you through calls and emails. He’d sent you care packages during finals week in college and always checked in during major holidays. He was the big brother who stuck around when your actual brother had vanished into the ether. The two of had only talked once in the five years since your mother died.
“So why are you in town?” Robby asked, signaling the bartender for a round. “You usually give me a heads up.”
“My work’s gone fully remote. I can live anywhere now,” you explained waiting for him to connect the dots. You wrote columns for a parent company that owned several online blogs. You used to have to go into the office a couple of times a month, but they’d changed their policies recently.
He smiled wide. “That’s fantastic. So where are you living now? Same place?”
You just stared at him and smiled around your straw.
Finally, his brows lifted in surprise and his mouth dropped open. “You…you moved here?”
A nod from you had him pulling you into his arms and kissing the top of your head. “I am so fucking happy right now,” he said, not letting go. When he released you, he looked you over. “Why Pittsburgh?”
“Don’t be dense, Mike. You’re the only family I’ve got.”
That got you another hug from a teary-eyed doctor.
The first few weeks in Pittsburgh were a blur of unpacking boxes and acquainting yourself with the city. Robby had made it his mission to get you out of your apartment and introduce you to everyone in his life. That’s how you met Jack Abbot.
“This is my nighttime counterpart,” Robby said, introducing him one morning over breakfast at a diner after Jack’s shift. “Jack, this is the kid sister I told you about.”
Jack’s handshake had been firm, assessing. His hazel eyes looked you over before crinkling at the corners. “So, you’re the one who put blue dye in his shampoo.”
You grinned. “He told you about that?”
“Only every time we get a blue-haired patient which happens more often than you’d think.”
From that first meeting, something about Jack had drawn you in. His easy going demeanor and quick humor were the perfect complement to you and Robby’s long established dynamic. Soon, the three of you had fallen into an easy rhythm of meetups. Meals after shifts, drinks at the bar, movie nights at Robby’s or Jack’s.
As an unmated Omega, you’d always been careful with scent suppressors. It was as natural as putting on deodorant in the morning. It was simple self preservation. You’d learned early that walking around with your Omega scent unchecked was like advertising vulnerability to a certain type of Alpha. As much as you trusted Jack, Robby was the only Alpha you allowed in your space.
Jack and Robby wore suppressors too, but for different reasons. Hospital policy required all staff to minimize their natural scents. It kept the environment neutral for patients that might be triggered by Alpha or Omega pheromones during treatment.
“God, you reek of hospital,” you complained to Robby one Sunday morning, wrinkling your nose as he slid into the booth across from you at your favorite diner. “I thought you were off yesterday.”
“Suppressors wear off but the hospital clings to everything,” he explained, sniffing the sleeve of his hoodie. “I swear I washed it.”
Jack arrived moments later, sliding in next to Robby with a grin and a nod. “Morning.”
Unlike Robby, Jack never seemed to carry the smell of the hospital with him. His scent was always muted, controlled when he knew he was going to see you.
It had been nearly four months of this comfortable friendship when everything changed. You stopped by the Pitt to drop off a container of homemade chili for Robby as a thank you for helping you put together a particularly stubborn bookshelf. Plus, you knew he didn’t eat at work unless you brought him food. Dana directed you to the lounge, saying he was due for a break and she’d send him in.
You pushed open the door, the thermal bag swinging from your hand and froze. The room was empty except for Jack who was here five hours past his shift. He evidently hadn’t applied new suppressant patches during that time because his scent hit you like a physical thing.
It was a deep, rich, complex blend of cedar, citrus and the earth after the rain. It was uniquely, unmistakably him. Your own suppressors kept him from detecting your reaction but they did nothing to dampen what your body immediately recognized.
Jack was your Alpha. Your True Alpha.
The bag slipped from your suddenly numb fingers, thudding on the floor. Jack looked up startled, then moved to help you.
“You okay?” he asked, picking up the bag with the thankfully intact container within.
You nodded mutely, unable to form words as your entire world spun out of control. Every Omega grew up hearing stories about scent recognition, that moment when your body identified its perfect match, your perfect Alpha. Most never experienced it, settling instead for a pleasant scent along with compatibility and connection rather than biological destiny.
Yet here you were fighting the urge to press yourself against him, bury your face in his neck and breathe him in. Your mind raced with happiness for a beat before your heart sank. Because Jack Abbot was off limits.
The wedding band on his left hand was a constant reminder of the bond he’d shared with his Beta wife. She’d died over five years ago, but Jack still wore the ring. Still honored the commitment.
You shook your head and cleared your throat. “Sorry. I was just bringing this by for Mike. Can you make sure he gets it?”
“Sure,” Jack said slow. “You sure you’re alright? You usually stick around to make sure he eats.”
“Fine. Just remembered a deadline. I need to get home,” you lied.
You’d practically fled the hospital that day and spent the night researching true mates with all the desperation of a student cramming for finals. But all the scientific evidence and advice columns in the world couldn’t change what Jack himself had said the week before over beers.
“Never put much stock in the Alpha and Omega thing,” he’d told Robby while you pretended to be absorbed in the ancient jukebox near the table. Robby had been needling him all night about finding a nice Omega to call his own. You thought Robby needed to take a little of his own advice. “Sarah and I did just fine without all that biological imperative nonsense. I am quite happy without an Omega, thank you very much.”
So, you made your choice. You shoved the truth down, burying your disappointment and went on with your friendship like nothing had changed. You were careful to always put on a fresh suppressant patch when you knew you would be seeing him. You maintained a careful distance. You ignored the way your entire body seemed to hum when he was near.
Jack was your friend. A grieving widower who made his feelings about Omega mates perfectly clear. And that was all he would ever be, no matter what your Omega insisted.
***
The bar was packed on Friday night, the weekend crowd swollen with what seemed like half of the staff of the Pitt. You’d squeezed around a high top table in the corner with Jack and Robby, nursing your drink as the noise roared around you. Normally you would have made an excuse, crowded bars were just not your scene. Plus you’d been feeling off for a couple of days. You planned to just curl up on your couch and watch crappy TV.
But then Jack had texted that morning asking if you’d be joining them. Three words that had you changing your plans with no hesitation.
Hope you’re coming
Now, just over an hour in, you were questioning that decision. The bar had only grown more crowded, Robby and Jack’s colleagues crowding around your table. Pushing everyone closer together. Your pulse quickened, your Omega instincts flaring. There were too many people, too many scents, too much potential danger.
Without conscious thought, you edged closer to Jack, who stood beside you as he chatted with Dana. He snorted with laughter at her story, the sound vibrating through you.
This was Jack’s third day off in a rare string of five. He’d mentioned using the time to do some repairs around his house. The break from the hospital meant he hadn’t needed to use suppressors and his scent wrapped around you like a physical embrace. Unfortunately, your suppressors did nothing to dampen the effect his proximity had on you.
“Want another drink?” Robby leaned over to ask you.
You shook your head, still nursing your first. Getting drunk around Jack when your control was already razor thin seemed like an extraordinarily bad idea.
Robby slipping by jostled you closer to Jack. Your arm pressed against his and you felt the warmth of him through his henley. You should have moved away once Robby passed, but you didn’t. Couldn’t. Instead, you found yourself drifting even closer until you were pressed firmly against his side.
He glanced at you, one brow raised but continued his conversation. Dana’s eyes flicked between you, a smirk playing at the corners of her mouth before she excused herself to the bar.
“You hanging in there?” Jack asked, his voice a low rumble.
“Yeah,” you lied, fighting the urge to press your nose against his scent gland and inhale.
When Robby returned with another beer, he noticed your new position at Jack’s side. A slow smile spread across his face, his eyes crinkling with something that looked suspiciously like satisfaction. He’d been dropping hints about Jack for weeks now. Casual mentions of how Jack was a ‘good guy’ and ‘deserved some happiness’.
If he only knew that you were the last person to need any convincing.
Throughout the next hour, you found increasingly transparent excuses to maintain the contact with Jack. You leaned against him to hear a story about an accident victim. You brushed invisible lint from his shoulder. You stayed within inches of him even when the crowd around the table thinned slightly.
Each touch was electric, sending sparks of awareness through you. Each breath brought his scent deeper into your lungs, making your head swim. This close you could see the flecks of color in his hazel eyes, the slight stubble shadowing his jaw.
Jack tolerated your proximity with stoic patience, occasionally placing a steadying hand on your back when someone brushed past. But there was a furrow between his brows that deepened as the night wore on, a tension in his shoulders that hadn’t been there earlier.
You knew why.
Jack was too good a man to push you away but he’d made his feelings clear. He didn’t want an Omega. Didn’t need that kind of bond. Still, your body betrayed you. By ten, you’d migrated so fully into his personal space that you were practically curled around his arm, your head tilted against his shoulder, your hip pressed against his.
Jack looked down at you, concern evident in his expression. “Are you okay, sweetheart? What’s up with you?” The endearment, casual as it was, sent a shiver through you.
Reality crashed back in. What were you doing? Making a complete fool of yourself, that’s what.
You shook your head and took a deliberate step away, creating space between your bodies. You tried to ignore the physical ache you felt at the separation. “Sorry,” you mumbled. “It’s just…a lot in here.”
“Hey, it’s okay,” Jack said, his eyes softening. He waited until you nodded in acknowledgment then gestured to the bar. “I’m gonna get another drink. Want one?”
“I’m good.” You held up your barely touched glass.
He squeezed your shoulder before moving away, weaving through the crowd. You watched him go, trying to ignore the emptiness you suddenly felt.
“Bathroom break,” Robby announced. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
And suddenly you were alone at the table, strangers closing in again. Your chest tightened, anxiety clawing up your spine. Without the buffer of familiar Alpha scents, the crowd seemed overwhelming, threatening.
Before you could think better of it, you were following Jack’s path to the bar. He was leaning against the counter waiting for his drink. You squeezed in beside him, close enough to feel his warmth again.
He turned, drink in hand and nearly collided with you. Amber liquid sloshed over the rim, splashing onto both your hands and the front of his shirt.
“Jesus, sweetheart,” Jack said with a startled laugh. “Give me room to breathe, would you?”
His tone was light, teasing, but the words made you sick at your stomach. Give me room to breathe. Because you were suffocating him with your neediness. Your desperate longing. Your pathetic Omega instincts that he made perfectly clear he didn’t want.
“I am so sorry, Jack,” you said, grabbing napkins from the bar and pressing them against the damp spot on his shirt. “I didn’t mean to…I wasn’t thinking.”
“Hey, it’s fine.” He gently clasped your wrist to still your frantic movements. “Really. No harm done.”
But the damage was done. Shame burned through you. What had you been thinking? That if you stayed close enough, touched him enough times, somehow biology would overcome his clearly stated preferences?
“I’m going home,” you said abruptly, stepping back from him.
Jack frowned. “Now? Let me tell Robby and I’ll walk you—”
“No,” you cut him off, already backing away. “No. I’m fine. I’ll be fine. There are too many people is all.”
You didn’t wait for his response, turning and pushing through the crowd to the exit. The cool night air hit your face like a slap bringing clarity with it. You gulped it down, trying to purge your instincts of Jack’s scent, trying to regain control of yourself.
The walk home would be good. Clear your head. Help you remember all the reasons you needed to get a grip on these feelings and bury them deep.
***
Jack returned to the table, still frowning over his shoulder toward the exit. The whiskey he’d hastily replaced after the spill sloshed in his glass as he set it down, his thoughts elsewhere. You’d looked upset. More than just embarrassment over the drink. Something was off, had been off all night and he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was.
“Where is she?” Robby asked immediately, glancing around expecting to find you nearby.
“Home,” Jack replied. “Said there were too many people.”
Robby’s eyebrows pulled together. “And you let her go alone?”
“I offered to walk her. She didn’t seem to want company.” He took a sip of his whiskey. “She was acting weird all night. Didn’t you notice?”
“Weird how?” There was something knowing in Robby’s expression that made Jack narrow his eyes.
“Like she couldn’t stand to be more than six inches away from me,” Jack said. “Kept finding reasons to touch my arm, my shoulder. Followed me to the bar and practically plastered to my side. When I turned around, I spilled my drink all over us.”
“And then she bolted,” Robby finished for him, nodding slowly.
Jack ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what’s going on with her, man. She’s not normally like this.” He had always appreciated your laidback, easy going nature. The way you gave people space, your self sufficiency. Tonight had been completely out of character.
Robby took a slow sip of his beer, considering Jack over the rim. When he set it down, his lips quirked into a half smile. “You know exactly what it sounds like, brother. You’re a doctor. Sounds to me like an Omega going into a preheat.”
Jack’s head snapped up, surprise written across his features. His stomach dropped at the thought and irritation crawled up his spine. If you were going into a preheat that meant you’d found a compatible Alpha. One you wanted for your mate. He didn’t want to examine why that thought bothered him so much.
“Why wouldn’t she tell us she’d met an Alpha?” He thought back over recent weeks trying to remember if you’d mentioned anyone new in your life. You hadn’t. In fact, most of your free time seemed to be spent with him and Robby.
Unless…
“You don’t think it’s that Vince guy she keeps running into at the café do you? The one that keeps asking her out?” Jack asked, a protective edge creeping into his voice. His jaw tightened. “He’s an asshole.”
Robby stared at him for a long moment then placed his hand on Jack’s shoulder with an expression of profound exasperation. “You are one of the smartest people I know,” he said slowly, “but sometimes you can be incredibly stupid.”
Jack blinked. “What are you talking about?”
Robby’s expression shifted between disbelief and amusement. “It wasn’t Vince whose skin she was trying to crawl into all night.”
“Then who—” Jack began before the implication of Robby’s words hit him. He shook his head. “No. That’s not…She wasn’t…”
“She wasn’t what? Practically purring every time you so much as looked at her?”
“It’s because I’m familiar. Safe. She was uncomfortable with the crowd,” Jack dismissed.
Robby pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes briefly as if praying for patience. “If she was after familiar and safe, she would have gravitated to me, not you. Been around for her entire life, remember? If she found another Alpha she would be wanting to spend her free time with them, not us. Or more specifically, you.”
Jack opened his mouth to protest again but something in Robby’s expression stopped him. The pieces were starting to align in his mind. Your increased presence in his life over the last few months. The way your eyes tracked him across a room, how you always seemed to find the seat next to him. Tonight’s behavior hadn’t come from nowhere, it had been building and he’d been too blind to see it.
Robby glanced around the crowded bar, then grabbed Jack’s arm. “Come on. We’re not having this conversation here.”
Before Jack could protest, Robby was dragging him through the crowd and outside, leading him down the street until they were several storefronts from the bar.
“Look,” Robby said. “I’ve known that woman since she was an infant. I’ve seen her with boyfriends, crushes, the works. I have never seen her act around anyone the way she acts around you.”
Jack leaned his back against the wall behind him and stared at the ground. His thoughts were a tangled mess. Could Robby be right? Had he completely missed what was happening right in front of him? And if he had, what the hell was he supposed to do about it now?
He thought of your face as you’d backed away from him at the bar. Hurt, embarrassed, vulnerable. Of how you’d hurried out alone into the night rather than spend another minute with him after he’d unwittingly rejected you. The thought made something protective stir in his chest.
He shook his head in denial. “You can’t be saying what I think you are.” He pushed away from the wall.
Robby just stared at him pointedly, arms crossed.
“Me?” Jack finally asked, the word coming out rougher than he’d intended. “But why wouldn’t she say anything?”
Robby sighed, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. “You said you were quite happy without an Omega, Jack. Those were your exact words, remember?” He gestured toward Jack’s left hand. “You still wear your ring. Every day, she sees that reminder you’re still tied to someone else.”
Jack thumbed the band he’d worn for eight years. He’s been without Sarah now longer than he’d been with her. He’d ever considered taking it off. It was part of him now.
“I know her. She won’t want you being with her out of some sort of obligation. And if that’s what this is going to be, forget I said anything.” Robby pulled out his phone, thumb hovering over the screen. “I’ll get Dana to go by and check on her tomorrow. If she’s going into heat she won’t want me around.”
The suggestion that someone else would be taking care of you sent a surge of possessiveness through Jack’s body. He squared his shoulders, standing taller as something primal and long dormant stirred in his chest. “Are you implying that I can’t take care of my Omega?”
The words came out before he could stop them, rough and instinctive. My Omega. It felt right. Perfect. Fated.
Robby’s eyebrows shot up and he tilted his head. “Is she your Omega?”
Jack’s shoulders slumped slightly as the fight drained out of him to be replaced by a weary sort of acceptance.
“Of course she is, man,” he admitted quietly. “Known it for months even if I couldn’t scent her.”
Robby’s eyes widened in shock. “Jesus, Jack. Why didn’t you say something?”
Jack huffed a humorless laugh, the sound harsh. He’d known on some level since the day he met you. Something about you had called to him instantly. He’d found himself seeking your company, manufacturing reasons to be where you were, all while convincing himself it was just friendship.
Even with your scent muted by suppressors, being near you felt right in a way few things had since Sarah died. But he buried that instinct deep, convinced himself it was just loneliness, rather than the bone deep recognition of an Alpha finding his Omega.
“Look at me, Mike,” Jack said gesturing to himself. His flaws felt magnified. The lines etched around his eyes from too many sleepless nights, the gray in his hair, the limp from his leg that became more pronounced after long days. “Who the hell wants a broken old Alpha like me?”
Robby studied him for a long moment then shrugged as he put his phone away. “Her apparently. You gonna do something about that?”
The question cut through Jack’s excuses and doubt. You were out there right now alone and hurting because you thought he’d rejected you. Because you believed he didn’t want what you were offering. You were brilliant, funny, kind and the chance at a bond he had convinced himself he didn’t need.
What an idiot he’d been.
“Yeah, man,” Jack said, spine straightening. “I’m going.”
He started down the street, mind already calculating the fastest route to your apartment building. He’d dropped you off enough times to know where it was even if he’d never been inside. He was going to change that tonight. The thought of you alone and hurt by his perceived rejection was more than he could bear.
“Jack!” Robby called after him, jogging a few steps to catch up. “Take the rest of the week. We’ll cover it.”
“Thanks,” Jack said nodding once.
“She’s in 2A,” Robby added and Jack filed the information away.
He raised a hand in acknowledgment, already moving again, his pace quickening with each step. For the first time since he’d lost Sarah, Jack felt fully alive. You were his Omega and he was done pretending otherwise.
As he rounded the corner, leaving the bar and Robby behind, Jack found himself reaching for his left hand. His thumb brushed over the band. With a deep breath, he twisted the ring off and slid it onto the ring finger of his right hand. A widowers band now. A symbol of the love he’d had and lost, that would always be a part of him, but now he was making room for you.
Sarah would understand. She’d always told him to not waste a single day. He’d failed at that after her death, retreating into work, avoiding connections that might lead to more loss. But now, he felt ready to honor her words at last.
Jack’s heart hammered against his ribs as he approached your apartment building. As if the universe approved of his decision to claim you, the front door swung open just as he reached it. A young man with headphones and a gym bag exited, holding the door without really seeing Jack. He slipped inside without buzzing your apartment, part of him afraid you’d deny him entry.
The lobby was quiet, elevator waiting. Jack pressed the button for the second floor. Second thoughts crowded his mind. What if Robby was wrong? What if you were just being friendly? What if his own loneliness had manufactured meaning where there was none?
But he remembered your face in the bar tonight, the hurt in your eyes when he’d joked about needing space to breathe. He thought of all the moments over the past months. The lingering glances. The way you’d light up when he entered a room. How you always seemed to find a way to be in his orbit. Those weren’t the actions of someone just being polite.
The elevator doors slid open and Jack stepped into the hallway. 2A. He found your door easily enough, standing before it as his certainty wavered again. His fingers brushed over the ring he’d relocated, the absence on his left hand still strange.
“Stop stalling, Abbot,” he muttered to himself. Before he could reconsider, he raised his hand and knocked three times.
The silence that followed stretched for an eternity. He heard movement inside, soft footsteps approaching the door, then nothing. He imagined you on the other side debating whether or not to pretend you weren’t home.
When the door finally swung open, the sight of you knocked the air from his lungs. Your eyes were red and puffy, your cheeks still damp with tears. You wore soft lounge pants and an oversized t-shirt. You had never looked more beautiful.
“What are you doing here, Jack?” you asked, voice rough from crying.
He opened his mouth to respond, to explain, but then it hit him.
Your scent.
With no chemicals dampening your natural pheromones, it enveloped him completely. Honey and rain and comfort and home. The recognition was instant and devastating. His pupils dilated, his heartbeat thundered in his ears, and every cell in his body seemed to vibrate.
Mine. My Omega. My mate.
Jack swayed slightly overwhelmed by the intensity of his reaction. He’d heard about this moment his entire life but never thought it would happen to him. True mates. This was far beyond him choosing you. You choosing him. This was his biology screaming that you were perfect for him.
How had you resisted this call? You’d stayed silent out of respect for his loss, his past, his disinterest in finding an Omega. You’d fought your own biology rather than make him uncomfortable. His chest ached at the realization.
You must have seen the change in his eyes, because your expression shifted to something more vulnerable, hopeful. “Jack?” you whispered.
His control snapped. He surged forward, his hands coming up to cradle your face. His thumbs brushed away the tear tracks on your cheeks as he backed you into your apartment, kicking the door closed behind him.
He pressed his lips to yours, kissing you with all the longing of months of denial. Your lips were soft beneath his, parting in a gasp that he swallowed hungrily. The taste of you flooded his senses, making his head swim.
For one breathless moment, he feared he’d misread everything, that you would push him away. Instead, you melted against him, arms winding around his neck as you responded with equal fervor. Your scent wrapped around him, shifting from the sadness tinged notes he’d first detected to something warmer, happier. The unmistakable scent of an Omega recognizing her Alpha.
Jack’s hands moved from your face to your waist, pulling you flush against him, needing to feel every inch of you. The rightness of it, staggered him. You fit perfectly in his arms as if you were always meant to be there. How had he denied this for so long? How had he convinced himself he didn’t need this connection? Didn’t need you?
When he finally broke the kiss, you were both breathing hard. He rested his forehead against yours, unwilling to allow any space between you. Your hands fisted in his shirt as if afraid he’d vanish if you let go.
“Omega,” he said, voice low and rough. “My Omega.”
The declaration pulled a sound from you that broke his heart and healed it at the same moment. A soft keening whimper of relief. You nuzzled against his neck, seeking the scent gland there, marking yourself with his scent.
“My Alpha,” you whispered against his skin. “Please stay with me.”
The vulnerability in those words made his protective instincts surge. He tightened his hold, one hand coming up to cradle the back of your head, holding you against him.
“I’m not going anywhere, Omega.”
You pulled back enough to meet his gaze, your eyes searching as if looking for any doubt or hesitation. Finding none, a smile slowly spread across your lips.
Jack’s thumb brushed over that smile, committing it to memory. “I’ve been an idiot. Some part of me knew from the moment I met you. I just wasn’t ready to admit it.”
“I thought you didn’t want this. You said you didn’t need an Omega.” Your voice was barely above a whisper.
“I don’t need an Omega, sweetheart. I need you.”
He leaned in to kiss you again, gentler this time. His Alpha instincts settled into a contented hum. He’d found his Omega. After years of loss and loneliness, he’d found where he belonged.
With you.