Keep Me

  Keep Me

  Piper Scott

  Contents

  1. Harrison

  2. Nathaniel

  3. Harrison

  4. Nathaniel

  5. Harrison

  6. Nathaniel

  7. Harrison

  8. Nathaniel

  9. Harrison

  10. Nathaniel

  11. Harrison

  12. Nathaniel

  Epilogue - Harrison

  More from LoveLight Press

  More from Piper Scott

  Keep Me © Piper Scott 2017.

  Amazon Kindle Edition. Edited by KD Smith.

  Cover design by Terram Horne.

  All rights reserved. No part of this story may be used, reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the copyright holder, except in the case of brief quotations embodied within critical reviews and articles.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  The author has asserted his/her rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book.

  This book contains sexually explicit content which is suitable only for mature readers.

  First LoveLight Press electronic publication: May 2017

  http://lovelightpress.com

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  Keep Me is set in the USA, and as such uses American English throughout.

  1

  Harrison

  The sound of the scream lingered with Harrison long after he’d left the hospital behind. For a short while, he laid his head against the headrest of the driver’s side seat, hands flat on his thighs, as he remembered it—a desperate, pained howl followed by a cry of relief.

  Then the cry of something sweeter.

  Twenty-four hours of support was worth the wait. Seeing a new life come into the world was a precious gift Harrison would never take for granted—but damn, did it leave him exhausted. He turned his head to look across the sidewalk at the shop across from him. It was close to eleven in the morning, and Five Pie was just opening. Harrison bet he’d be the first one through the doors.

  The click of the seatbelt unbuckling marked the silence in Harrison’s car. He opened the door, stepped out, and stretched. Parking wasn’t bad at this time of day—especially on a Wednesday—and he was grateful for it. The adrenaline from being present at the delivery still rushed through his veins, but it was close to the only thing keeping his eyes open at this point. Soon enough, caffeine would join the struggle. Harrison hoped it would be enough to get him home.

  Five Pie was a tiny shop on the outskirts of Aurora. It was built into a strip of commercial buildings, tucked between an independently owned shoe store and a travel agency. It was on the way home from the hospital, but Harrison had never thought to stop there until Dr. Renard mentioned how excellent the tiny shop was. The comment was enough to make the place stick in Harrison’s mind, and he couldn’t think of a better time to try it than when he was in that strange state of overstimulated and exhausted he often felt after a trying delivery.

  He made his way inside.

  The bell above the door chimed as he entered, and a gentleman behind the counter lifted his head and smiled. It looked like he was finishing up with counting the cash drawer. “Welcome to Five Pie.”

  “Hi,” Harrison said. “You’re open, right? I can go back and wait outside if you need a little extra time.”

  “We’re open,” the man promised. He looked to be in his sixties—balding, gray around the temples, and moderately rotund. Still, his face was kind, and his eyes had a gentle light that resonated in Harrison’s soul. The man had a good aura, and Harrison already had a good feeling about this place. He kicked himself for not stopping in to check it out earlier. “We’re just getting the last pie for the display case out of the oven now.”

  “Oh, it’s fine.” Harrison approached the counter. The shop was tiny and quaint. Six round tables for two occupied the space at the front, small crystal bowls with water and floating lilies set as centerpieces on each of them. The light from the broad windows at the front of the shop overlooking the street lit the crystal and reflected patterns onto the surface of each table. The back counters were clean and bright, and the display case was well lit and spotless. Four types of pie sat, fresh and piping hot, beneath the display case’s light. Space for a fifth was empty. Chalkboards behind the counter advertised all kinds of other treats—hot and cold drinks, sandwiches, and simple meals. “I know for sure that I’m going to take a coffee, two creams, two sugars, but before I make my decision on dessert, what’s the fifth pie for today going to be?”

  “Strawberry rhubarb,” a much younger, much softer voice said. Harrison looked up, startled, to find a young man emerging from the back of the shop. “Fresh out of the oven.”

  Harrison forgot to speak. He watched, dumbfounded, as the young man set the pie on the display case, then stood on his toes and folded his arms across the top of it. He set his chin on his arms and looked across the counter at Harrison. “Can I help you with anything?”

  Harrison opened his mouth, then closed it again. He wanted to speak, but he couldn’t quite manage. The young man across the counter was stunningly gorgeous, but beyond that, there was a scent in the air that he couldn’t attribute to the strawberry rhubarb pie. The young man across the counter was an omega, and he had the sweetest smell Harrison had ever encountered.

  The omega smiled shyly and slipped back from the counter. “I’ll give you a minute to look. You said two creams, two sugars?”

  “Yes,” Harrison said, mouth dry. He blinked, trying to clear his head. Day in and day out, he worked with omegas. He was used to the smell of them, the look of them, and the allure of them. Most of the time, he didn’t give a second thought to any of them.

  But the young man across the counter?

  Harrison’s heart throbbed, and he swallowed in a vain attempt to get his saliva flowing again. It was the first time an omega had ever made him feel this way, and he had absolutely no clue what to do about it.

  The omega tended to his coffee. There was a freshly brewed pot on an elaborate percolator near the sandwich board, and the omega took it by the handle.

  “For here?” he asked.

  “Yes.” Harrison swallowed hard. “Please.”

  The omega looked over his shoulder, the corner of his eye playful. Harrison was the flash of muddy green in them, and it was almost too much. He wrenched his eyes away, moved to the cash register, and paid as the older of the two employees rang him up.

  “Is it just going to be the coffee for today?” the man asked.

  “No,” Harrison said. He resisted the urge to look in the omega’s direction. “And a slice of strawberry rhubarb pie, please.”

  “Of course.”

  Harrison produced a card, paid, then slipped it back into his wallet as his mind ran laps, obsessing over the omega behind the counter. For as long as he could remember, he’d believed in fate, but he’d never thought it would hit him so hard.

  The sensible part of Harrison’s mind urged him to reconsider. After a twenty-four hour shift, fueled by nothing more than the remnants of his adrenaline, he was probably overly susceptible to an omega’s scent. There was a chance the omega across the counter was going into heat, after all. Maybe it was as simple as that.

  His heart told him otherwise.

  The omega brough
t the coffee right to the counter and placed it in front of Harrison as the transaction took place. “If you want to go grab a table, I’ll be right over with your pie,” the omega promised.

  “I can wait,” Harrison said. He’d teased his brothers about their devotion to their mates, but for the first time in his life, he was starting to understand what all the fuss was about. Harrison didn’t want to put anymore distance between them. To do so felt too monumental a task.

  What the hell was he thinking? He didn’t even know the omega’s name!

  The omega bit down on his bottom lip and looked at Harrison with eyes that made Harrison never want to look away. His brown hair fell across his forehead, soft and shiny. The doula in Harrison took in all the little details, from the flush in the omega’s cheeks to the way his skin glowed, and wondered if he wasn’t already mated. That would be something, wouldn’t it? To finally be attracted to someone after years of celibacy, only for that omega to be faithfully mated. The optimist in Harrison told him not to worry. If things were meant to be, they would be.

  He couldn’t tell if he was the only one feeling such instant attraction, but the shyness in the omega’s eyes and the flush in his cheeks indicated he might not be alone.

  “Uncle Martin, do you think you could go make sure I did the order this morning right?” the omega asked. “I finished just before bringing the pies out, but I don’t want to order anything until it has your okay. I can look after the front while you’re gone.”

  “Sure.” The older man, Uncle Martin, cast Harrison a wary look before exiting through the door the omega had come through. It was the kind of look that reminded Harrison that as an alpha, he was a perceived threat. There were men out there who didn’t treat omegas with respect, and relatives tended to guard the omegas in their family fiercely for it.

  The omega glanced toward the back door, then looked back to Harrison. He leaned on the counter. “It was one slice of strawberry rhubarb, right?”

  “I’ll pay for two if you want to come join me.”

  The omega’s whole face went red, and he propped himself off the counter to slide the back of the display case open. Carefully, he lifted the strawberry rhubarb pie from inside. “That’s flattering. Thank you. I—”

  The bell over the door rang again, and the shop filled with boisterous conversation. Harrison watched as the omega tensed. He set the pie down on the counter behind the register, shot Harrison an apologetic look, and served him a generous slice of pie on a scalloped edged plate.

  A group of five filled the space behind Harrison, laughing a little too loudly about things Harrison didn’t find funny and bemoaning that morning’s choice of pie. The hairs on the back of Harrison’s neck stood on end to see the omega’s discomfort, but he knew he couldn’t do anything about it. The urge to protect was a fault instinct—an evolutionary impulse rather than something real. He’d found an omega his body responded to, and now he wanted to defend that omega.

  He knew how it worked. Harrison had worked as a doula for close to his entire adult life. He was versed in omegas, instinct, and what could be suppressed and what couldn’t. All he needed to do was ride the instinct out, and once he distanced himself, it would go away.

  Harrison took the pie and coffee, gave the omega one last look, and settled at a table facing the window. He kept his back to the front of the shop, his ears trained to what was happening at the counter, but his eyes watching the traffic on the street. More people entered. Some came and went quickly, while others settled at tables. It looked like Five Pie wasn’t hurting for business, but it meant the omega behind the counter was busy.

  Uncle Martin returned to help with the rush. Harrison listened to their footsteps and their polite conversation. The pie was delicious, made even better because it was freshly baked, and the coffee was excellent. He ate slowly, savoring the taste while he thought about the omega behind the counter.

  If it was just a product of his tired mind, then there was nothing to worry about. Harrison would go about his life and forget that this had ever happened—but if it wasn’t…

  He frowned. Both of his brothers were already mated, and they had children on the way. Harrison was the only one left alone, and while he hadn’t been looking for someone to fill that void, he wasn’t opposed to the idea, either. Maybe this was the motivation he needed to make a move and get involved with dating.

  When he was finished, he brought his plate and empty coffee cup back to the counter. The omega was behind the register, finishing up a transaction as Harrison returned his dishes. His hazel eyes darted up to look at Harrison shyly, then looked away.

  There was a jar on the counter near the register, a handwritten notice taped to the front that advertised a weekly drawing for a free pie. The jar was filled up with business cards.

  Harrison looked at the omega, pulled a business card from his wallet, and dropped it into the jar. The card sat on top.

  If things were meant to be, Harrison figured, then they would be. He’d left his name and number. If the omega wanted anything to do with him, he’d get in touch. Fate would bind them together or keep them apart. Either way, Harrison trusted in it.

  He tucked his hands into his pockets, smiled, and headed for the door. Another rush hit, and Harrison waited for them to clear from the doorway before he let himself outside. When he glanced through the shop window, he noticed the omega watching him as he left, still stationed at the counter.

  The omega dropped his gaze and blushed.

  Harrison couldn’t remember if anyone had ever looked at him like that, and he smiled to himself as he made it back to his car and began the trip back home.

  The taste of strawberry rhubarb didn’t linger in his memory for long, but the scent of that sweet omega certainly did.

  2

  Nathaniel

  Uncle Martin dropped the phone. It clattered as it hit the ground, then skidded beneath the display counter. Worried, Nathaniel glanced over his shoulder in his uncle’s direction. The man was ashen faced, lips parted in surprise, and eyes distant. Nathaniel closed the cash drawer with his hip, slid the pie box across the table to the customer, and wished them well. When they turned to go, he left the counter to tend to Uncle Martin.

  “Uncle Martin?” Nathaniel asked hesitantly. He squeezed his uncle’s arm, trying to bring him back down to earth. “Is everything okay?”

  “They found him,” Uncle Martin whispered, breathless. “They found him, Nate, and he’s alive.”

  Nathaniel didn’t recognize his brother. Five years had changed Dylan’s face, but it had also changed his soul. The vibrant, sarcastic, apathetic sixteen year old Nathaniel once idolized was different now. Quieter. Calmer. There was a haunted look in his eyes and a fluidity to the way he moved that Nathaniel didn’t think was innately Dylan.

  He stood silently as Dylan was led down the hall, unsure how to process his emotions. On one hand, the brother he thought was dead had been returned to him. On the other, Nathaniel knew that Dylan had lived through hell on earth.

  Uncle Martin gripped Nathaniel’s shoulder and squeezed, and Nathaniel leaned into him for support. The counselor brought Dylan all the way down the hall, then stood behind him as Dylan approached. His chin was bowed and his gaze was downcast, like he didn’t matter anymore.

  It broke Nathaniel’s heart to see his older brother like this.

  “Hello,” Dylan said softly. His voice cracked, and with it, Nathaniel broke, too. He blinked away fat tears and let out a shuddering sob, then tore away from Uncle Martin and launched himself at Dylan. Nathaniel hugged him tight, unwilling to let go.

  Dylan didn’t hug him back.

  “Dylan,” Nathaniel sobbed. “Oh my god. We thought… we thought we wouldn’t see you again.”

  Dylan made a soft noise in the back of his throat. He rested his head on Nathaniel’s shoulder, and Nathaniel felt a shift in his body. The tension eased. Dylan sniffled. He hugged Nathaniel back.

  “I’m sorry,” Dylan whispe
red. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Why are you sorry?” Nathaniel laughed through his sorrow, hugging Dylan tighter. “There’s nothing you have to be sorry about. You’re here. You’re home.”

  “It was my fault,” Dylan murmured.

  The counselor stepped forward and laid a hand between Dylan’s shoulder blades. Nathaniel looked up at her, both glad she was there and wishing that she’d go away. After five long years of thinking his brother was dead, they were together again. He didn’t want anyone else intervening, even if that person had helped Dylan track them down.

  “Remember what we talked about, Dylan?” the counselor asked. “It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault.”

  “It is my fault,” Dylan murmured. “I was the one who chose to run away. If I hadn’t, none of this would have happened.”

  Nathaniel’s grip on him didn’t falter. He held Dylan close, like if he didn’t, Dylan might disappear again. He wasn’t ever letting him go again. Dylan was the only immediate family he had left.

  “It doesn’t matter whose fault it is,” Uncle Martin said as he stepped forward. “What matters is that you’re here, you’re safe, and you’re coming home.”

  “Yes, sir,” Dylan replied.

  “And none of that,” Uncle Martin said. “I’m your uncle, Dylan. You don’t need to call me sir.”

  Nathaniel loosened his grin enough to pull out of the hug. He kept both hands braced on Dylan’s shoulders, looking him over from head to foot. Dylan was skinny, reminiscent of Nathaniel’s own body. His brown hair was kept long enough that he could style it, although currently it laid flat, and his eyes were doubles of Nathaniel’s own—a burning kind of hazel that shifted from brown to green to amber. His face was more mature than Nathaniel remembered it, no longer belonging to a teenage boy, but to a man, and his shoulders were a little more square and sturdy, but not by much. The biggest difference was the baby bump now distending Dylan’s stomach.