Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

This wasn’t happening. I’d finally done it. I’d built up a life without my family, one where I could stay away from their bullshit. Why the fuck had Parker picked now, of all times, to hunt me down? He had the resources to find me at any time. Going by my middle name was hardly the best way to hide.

If they’d decided I had enough time to sow my oats and wanted me to come back and marry well, like a good little omega, they had another think coming. I wasn’t going to be sold. Not then. Not now. They could sugar it up all they wanted, but they only saw me as a commodity and I was done.

I was the master of hiding my emotions. I could play the part of a happy omega all day long, in the worst of settings, but seeing Parker broke me, and instead of asking Abrar for the rest of the day off, feigning illness, I found myself locked in the employee bathroom in a ball, on the floor, sobbing.

“Zeke. Marcus. Can we just talk?” My brother’s voice broke through the door. Was running away from him not a strong enough hint?

“No.” The weakness in my voice almost had me sobbing again. I was not weak. I stood up to them. I left. I started a new life. I was strong. Except I wasn’t. Seeing his face had cracked my strength a little and each word he spoke only wedged me open wider.

“Too bad, little bro. I'm not going anywhere until I find out what happened.” As if he didn’t remember abandoning me when I needed him most. He knew what my parents were up to, and not once did he stand by me. He’d chosen college and partying over saving me from my intended fate.

“What happened?” I sounded like the serial killer just as they were about to snap in a B-level movie, my intonation all over the place, but just getting words out was hard. There was no way I’d be able to sound put together. Not now. “That’s rich. Just run back to your mommy and daddy. I don't have a family anymore.”

“Hey, you.” Abrar’s voice was harsh, and I nearly collapsed with relief. I could tell he knew Parker wasn’t me. I wouldn’t need to explain to him why someone wearing my face, calling me the wrong name, was in the employee only section of the café making a huge ass scene. “Employees only. I'm going to need you to leave, or I'll call the authorities.”

No one fucked with Abrar or his employees, which was one of the reasons Café Om did so well. He wouldn’t hesitate a second before following through on his threat. Something I am sure Parker Spears, alpha rich boy, wasn’t used to.

“I'm just trying to talk to my brother.”

Damn fool was going to get himself arrested, and then it would hit the paper and—just no. He needed to leave before that shit went down. I had a good thing going here and didn’t need him ruining it by acting out and putting us in the gossip rags. I could see it now: Spears Brothers United In Jail. Thanks, but no thanks.

“I don't care what you're trying to do, you're harassing my employee, and I won't stand for that.”

“Just go,” I begged through the door. Parker didn’t answer, and I heard a thump and the tell-tale beep of numbers being pressed on a cellphone. “Damn it, Parker. For just once in your life can you not be the stereotypical stubborn alpha?” I opened the door, hoping my shaking legs weren’t noticeable. I hated that I went weak the first time, the very first time, I came face to face with my past. I was stronger than that. Damn it. “If I agree to talk to you, will you leave?”

“Now?”

Was he serious? Shit, looking at his face… it was—optimism. No. Not that. I used to be able to read him and now, now I was at a loss. He looked so not Parker. Sure, years had been between us, but it was more than that.

“No. What about Tuesday?” I offered, counting the days between then and now and willing them to be enough for me to pull myself together.

“I have a business trip,” he began, before quickly adding, “I can cancel.”

“Don't cancel,” I said automatically, a not so tiny part of me wondering if his quick offer to cancel was out of desire to talk to me or if he was there for my parents. If he had said it through the door, I’d have assumed the latter, but now that we were face to face and I could see his eyes, I had my doubts.

“Next Friday? That’s when I’m back.”

“Okay. I work until six in the evening. Meet me here.” I half eyed Abrar, who gave a nod that it was alright for Parker to come back and that I was more than likely not fired for his bullshit.

“I will,” he promised. “I guess I should let you get back to work.” And with that, he walked out.

Why did it hurt as much to see him leave as to see him at all? It looked like my family shit wasn’t as in my past as I’d convinced myself it was.

“You okay?” Abrar asked, his arms slightly open in a welcoming, yet subtle manner.

I took advantage and stepped into his hug, allowing the tears to begin again.

“Sorry.” I sniffled as I wiped my tears from my eyes. “I thought I was past giving a hoot about that stuff.”

“So that’s your brother. I was wondering about that.”

I straightened my clothing. I must’ve looked a hot mess. At least I wasn’t wearing my eyeliner, like I did at the clubs. “What do you mean?”

“He was at a fundraiser Café Om sponsored. I thought he was you for a second.”

That was not good. Not good at all. I had been sure Parker had come into town just to see me, and he’d leave once he accomplished his goal. This changed everything.

“So you met him before. Here? In the city?” Please be no. Please be no.

“Meet, no. But saw, yes.” Abrar was eyeing me carefully. I couldn’t blame him for thinking me weak as a wounded bird, but he was wrong. I was strong. This was a blip, nothing more.

“So he lives here?”

“I have no idea.” It wasn’t a yes. I was going to have to work with that. “Do you need the afternoon off?”

“I kinda do.” I needed to get away, maybe hide in a book or a game. Schlepping coffee with a sunshiny face wasn’t going to happen today.

“Do you feel safe going on your own? I could drive you or call a cab.”

“I’m fine. He would never hurt me.” Any more than he already had, anyway.

I clocked out. Forty-seven minutes. I’d managed to come to work, come face to face with my brother, have a meltdown, plan to meet with said brother again, and clock out in a grand total of forty-seven minutes. It felt like hours.

Sugar would make all things better. I went to the front of the cafe, knowing it was the dead time between rushes and few would see me, and started to make myself a double mocha, caramel, hazelnut concoction that I planned to drown my sorrows in. That and whipped cream. All the whip cream. Screw it, I might be long past my youth, but sprinkles were going to top my whipped. Lots and lots of sprinkles.

“Hoping to go into a sugar coma?”

My head snapped to the source of the voice. Killian. He was here, looking at me all hot messed out while making comfort drinks. Could the day get any worse?

“Um, hi.” I was not going to ogle, I was not going to ogle.

I was ogling.

“How do you know this wasn’t for the take-away window?” I asked lamely. My ability to be perfect omega Marcus had zipped from me.

“If you licked off the sprinkles and then added more on a take-away, I’d have to question the health standards of this cafe.”

I looked forlornly down at my drink with the telltale missing whip.