When She Needs Them Most
: Chapter 6

Some assholes give all alphas a bad name. Greed isn’t an attractive quality for anyone to possess. Let alone an alpha. Our whole purpose in life is to protect those weaker than ourselves. Our impulses are literally coded with the instinct to protect omegas.

I curse under my breath, watching the delivery truck drive away. Memorizing their license plate is habit, not premeditation. Although, if their negligence and shady business practices cause Chelsea any additional stress, then I may rethink my stance that the conversation we had was enough.

Russell learned very quickly that size does not equal the largest threat. His two coworkers demonstrated more intelligence and chose to not interfere. It’s clear the company intended to take full advantage of Chelsea’s situation. They’ll now be issuing her a fifty percent refund. Otherwise, they’ll be hearing from me again, quite swiftly.

I take a seat on the edge of the guest room bed. “I thought it best to check in, and when you didn’t answer my knock…” I grimace, trying to find the right words. “Well, I’ll fully admit, I panicked a bit.”

Chelsea’s forehead and eyes pop out from under the comforter as she lowers it a few inches. My teeth dig into my lip as her forehead wrinkles, and she tugs the blanket down until she can tuck it under her chin.

She’s adorable. Seeing her instincts play out is endearing.

I chuckle, shaking my head. “I thought you were facing the window. I suppose it’s lucky I didn’t try to pat your back.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, blinking large blue eyes. “I got overwhelmed.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” I assure her as my nose twitches. There’s something unique about her scent that I don’t have words to explain. Linc described it as sugar cookies and cream when he was rambling after she went to bed last night, and I do pick up sugary hints, but there’s something almost electric about her smell. It reminds me of the weather that rolls in right before a bad lightning storm.

“I was just trying to make a plan,” she says, drawing me out of my thoughts. “Do you know of any local moving companies?”

“That’s not necessary,” I say firmly. “Lincoln and I can head over and get your things out of the elements. Kase’s specialty is breakfast. Why don’t you have something to eat? After that, you can come over and direct the three of us to where you’d like your belongings placed.”

“Are you sure? I already feel like I’ve been a major imposition.”

“It’ll be our exercise for the day. During winter, we all fall out into bad routines.” I give her hip a pat. “Do you plan to take the downstairs bedroom or one of the ones upstairs? That way, we know where to start stashing your dressers and the bed.”

“I considered taking the room downstairs, but then I realized the only other bedrooms are upstairs. For now, that would be fine, but once the baby comes⁠—”

“You wouldn’t want that much distance between you.” My hand seems to have a mind of its own as I tuck a wavy strand of hair behind her ear. “I completely understand. However, it might not be an awful plan to keep the baby with you downstairs for the first few months, especially while you’re healing from giving birth.”

“I guess I could always hire movers to swap my room from downstairs to upstairs once Luna gets a little older.” She pushes up with her forearms but struggles to make it upright. I stand, offering her my hands to help her sit up.

“Or you could ask your neighbors, who are perfectly capable of helping.” I quirk an eyebrow. “That’s several months away. It’s probably best not to worry about that until it’s upon you.”

“Right,” she agrees weakly.

“Why don’t you take a few minutes to relax? Once you feel a little better, you’ll find Kase in the kitchen.” I adjust the cuff on my button-down. “Does that sound good?”

She nods. “Thank you again.”

“None of that. Just point me to the keys, and we’ll get started.”

Lincoln and I make quick work of carrying in the heavy stuff. We get most of the smaller boxes stacked in the formal dining room, but we need tools to start assembling everything.

A quick text to Kase handles that. He brings over the small toolbox while Chelsea showers.

“The bedrooms upstairs need some work,” Linc says, jogging down the stairs. “How did we miss so many things?”

“We weren’t expecting a single woman to rent it, and it’s technically Mrs. Wilson’s responsibility to handle any necessary repairs.” I frown, shaking my head. “I’m sure sitting vacant for six months didn’t help, either.”

It’s a lot of house for a single individual with a baby. It’s two stories, with three bedrooms and a decent-sized yard. The upkeep will be much more than she experienced in an apartment. It doesn’t sit well with me, but there’s very little I can do at the moment.

“Let’s get started assembling her bed and the crib.” My head swivels, glancing around at all the items. I don’t recall seeing a crib box, nor do I see the pieces of a disassembled crib. “She does have a crib, right?”

“She could’ve been waiting to move, so she didn’t have to carry it from one place to another,” Linc says, shrugging.

“We should have had this place professionally cleaned prior to her coming.”

“You’re losing your shit.” Linc chuckles, looking smug. “Mrs. Wilson had it cleaned after it was emptied. These old places always seem kind of dingy and dirty, but it is technically clean.” He frowns, scratching his beard. “Or it was before sitting for those few months. Whatever happened to the contractor who renovated our house?”

“I’m not sure, but I do wonder if it’s safe to perform construction while Chelsea is expecting.” My gaze darts around, taking inventory of the issues that might be safety concerns.

“That, I have no idea about, but if we don’t get to work, then she’s going to show up and feel obligated to help,” Linc points out.

He’s right.

I give a nod, grab the toolbox, and aim for Chelsea’s room.

Lincoln and I are able to assemble the bed, place her dressers in the room, and tote all the boxes labeled clothing to her closet before Chelsea comes over with Kase at her side. His brown hair is a bit messy, like he spent all morning and half the night running his hands through it.

“Wow, you two are way more efficient than the team of three guys from the moving company,” Chelsea says, walking around the edge of the bed.

Those assholes were inept and likely milking every additional minute they could for billing purposes.

“We can move it if you don’t like where we put it,” Linc offers. “We can also make the bed, if you happen to know which box your sheets are in. I deflated the air mattress and shoved it in the hall closet, but I’m pretty sure it has a hole in it somewhere, so you might want to toss it. I plan to hook up your washer and dryer next.”

“Okay, thank you. I can manage making the bed, but would someone help put the dining room table together before you go?” she asks, glancing between us.

“I’m excellent with a screwdriver. Lead the way,” Lincoln says, slinging an arm around her shoulder.

Kase leans against the wall near the attached bathroom. He’s quiet until they’re out the door. Their voices follow them down the hall as I grab a box labeled curtains. There’s a set of ancient blinds covering the windows, but they’ve seen better days. There are no curtain rods. I’m guessing Mrs. Wilson had those disposed of because they were also ancient.

“We’re going to need to make a trip to the hardware store. Probably a home goods store too,” I say absently.

“I did a little research last night.” Kase shrugs. “On top of some light guest watching.”

I snort. “You mean stalking.”

He takes the few steps separating us. “I was just checking that she was okay. Sky was on her rounds. She blamed the noises on the dog.”

Discouraging his behavior would only cause his obsession to grow. “Be careful. There’s a line between helpful neighbor and creep who won’t mind his own business.”

“Do you want to hear what I learned or not?”

“Of course, but keep your voice down,” I say, glancing toward the open doorway.

“Chelsea’s ex-boyfriend died of complications from a brain tumor a little over five months ago. His name was Clark. He had some mid-level success with tech and computers. They hadn’t been together long, based on my calculations. The majority of the information came from court records. He left most of what he had to Chelsea.” Kase finally takes a break, and the look he shoots my way says there’s more.

God, assuming Clark is her daughter’s father…that woman has been through hell, on top of whatever else Kase is about to tell me.

“Get on with it, then.” I plant my hands on my hips to prevent myself from adjusting my sleeves. It’s a tell I don’t wish to provide.

“She made multiple reports to Richmond police about one Emmett Raynor. Younger brother to Clark Raynor. The cops did fuck all with those reports. She paid a tidy sum to break her lease. I couldn’t find a forwarding address to lead me here, which was a smart move on her part…” He sighs. “But she set up all the utilities in her name—not that she had much choice. Any cut-rate PI could find her in five seconds flat.”

“Christ,” I mutter. “I’m going to need to see those police reports. I assume you took a deep dive into the younger Raynor?”

“Of course.” He scoffs, like he can’t believe I had the audacity to ask. “The problem isn’t Raynor. It’s the bookie he owes a shit ton of money to.”

In our line of work, we’ve seen it all before.

“The baby belongs to Clark?” I ask, like I have the right.

“From what I can tell? Yeah.” He shrugs. “He also seemed to believe the baby was his. He didn’t even ask for a DNA test in the will. You don’t leave your ex-girlfriend nearly your entire estate if she cheated or something. I couldn’t link her to anyone else around that time, and she informed him she was pregnant via voicemail and text message after he broke up with her. She was really fucking polite about it, too, considering she had no idea he was sick.”

I sigh.

God, that sounds terrible for her to have had to go through.

I’ve always been able to comprehend that I have low levels of empathy and compassion. Of most emotions in general, if I’m being honest. Luckily, I was raised by an excessively sweet and emotionally available mother.

My parents’ pack has two omegas—my mother and Gus. My biological father is likely one of the alphas, but Gus and I have a special bond. His omega nature allows him to pick up the emotions of others, and out of all my siblings, I became a bit of a special project for him and my mother.

That interest is likely to thank for why I didn’t end up a serial killer. Well, at least not one without morals and clear boundaries.

That’s not the point.

The point is that, even if I never feel emotions deeply, it still doesn’t sit right with me that Chelsea has faced so much. Add in the pregnancy, and I’m shocked she’s managing the stress at all.

“We’ll need to keep an eye on the Raynor situation.” I shake my head, glancing around the room. “Perhaps she would have been safer on the second floor.”

“Except that a few of the stairs seemed squishy when I checked them,” Kase says. “Also, the doorbell cam caught her nearly slipping on the steps earlier when she was going into our house while you were handling the movers.”

“What?” I hiss, unbuttoning the top button on my shirt. The collar doesn’t usually feel so unbearably tight. “Did she at least eat a decent breakfast?”

“Yeah, I mean, she said she was full. I’m guessing she eats small, frequent meals, like most pregnant women.” Kase shrugs.

That’s something else to watch.

He didn’t know a damn thing about pregnant women until meeting Chelsea.

Not that I know much, but I can rectify that with an afternoon of reading.

“It appears we need to make a run to the hardware store.” Linc comes into the room with an arm around Chelsea’s shoulders.

“I didn’t know dryers have different plugs to connect to the wall. It worked in my apartment…” She frowns, rubbing at her stomach. “Shouldn’t that be universal?”

Linc chuckles. “You’d think so, but it’s a perfect example of capitalism at its finest.”

“Are you okay?” Kase takes a step toward Chelsea, who still rubs at her lower abdomen.

“Yeah. It’s just Braxton Hicks contractions. They’re inconvenient but normal.” She gives a tired smile as she keeps on massaging her stomach.

“Why don’t Lincoln and I run to the hardware store?” I offer. “Kase is excellent company, if you’d like to spend a few hours relaxing on the couch over at our place. It’ll be much warmer.”

Christ.

We’ve all done a fair amount of overstepping, but ultimately, she’s her own person. She could tell us to see our way out at any time.

My instincts wouldn’t handle that well.

I have no idea why I’m so drawn to help her, but I’ve never been one to stand idly by and watch someone in need suffer. Likely because, in most cases, I wouldn’t notice, but that’s neither here nor there.

“Are you sure you don’t mind?” She glances between us.

Linc pats her shoulder. “I’ve got a few things I need to grab to fix the back fence at our place. It’s not a problem.”

“Okay, thank you.” She smiles, but her entire demeanor betrays how exhausted she must be. “I have some cash in my purse. My feet are a little swollen from the drive yesterday. I think I’m supposed to elevate my legs to help with the swelling.”

My forehead wrinkles with a frown.

I definitely need to do some research. Is swelling normal during pregnancy? It seems like it might be a sign something is wrong.

Well, that will have to wait until we ensure her home is, at baseline, livable.