Chapter Text
“How are you feeling about going home for Christmas?” Aubrey asked. Her patient squirmed slightly in his chair, which looked almost humorous given his broad, Alpha physique.
“I’m looking forward to seeing my mother, of course,” he began cautiously. “She loves Christmas. The house will be beautifully decorated, and we’ve made a lot of holiday traditions together that I’m looking forward to.” Clipped and precise, Aubrey noted. The boy—a graduate student at the university named Cliff Creighton—was trying so hard to sound detached, poised, and professional. This was the challenge when taking on other psychologists or even psychology grad students as patients: there was a wall of technique and awareness there, a wall that Aubrey knew she had to break down to get at real feelings and vulnerability. It was a challenge, but a rewarding one.
“And you’ll see your father,” Aubrey said pointedly. No sense in letting the boy avoid the issue. Cliff winced like Aubrey had stepped roughly on his toe. “Should we talk about how you’re feeling about that?”
“I’m not exactly looking forward to it,” Cliff admitted. “I didn’t really know what to say to him before I started realizing how toxic I find his behavior. Now, I’m afraid that I won’t be able to stand it. That I’ll lose my temper and say something I regret.”
“When was the last time you lost your temper and did something you really regretted, Cliff?” The boy tensed, and Aubrey knew he was recalling conversations from their previous sessions. She nodded slowly, infusing her motion with meaning. “What do you feel the likelihood is that—at this point in your life—you will really lose your temper and act without care?”
Cliff sighed ruefully. “Rather unlikely, I guess. I suppose I’m just getting caught up in imagining the worst-case scenario.” He smiled with tight, closed lips. “And yes, you don’t have to remind me. I do that a lot—focus on negative potential outcomes rather than positive. I’m aware.”
Aubrey nodded and returned the slight smile. And that was the benefit of taking on other psychologists or even psychology grad students as patients—there at least was a level of self-awareness.
“And that, for better or worse, is the note we’ll have to end on for this calendar year,” Aubrey noted.
“Right,” Cliff grunted in recognition, pulling a scheduling planner out of his student backpack. “You’re out of town the entire winter break, right?”
“Yes,” Aubrey agreed. “Visiting… family.”
“Are you traveling far?” The boy’s vocal tone and smile were both polite and warm, non-invasive but open. He’d make a good therapist someday, Aubrey thought.
“A small town in Montana,” she replied, making sure to keep her voice even and unrevealing. “You wouldn’t have heard of it.”
“Is that where you grew up?”
“Yes.”
“Do you go home every year?” The question was innocent and friendly. It still made Aubrey’s chest clench and her throat tighten.
“No,” she admitted with a smile that was perhaps a bit too thin and tight. “Certainly not as often as my sister would like.” It was only slightly a lie, she decided. A certain framing of the truth. She stood and extended her hand to Cliff. “I’ll see you in the new year.” The young man nodded and gave her hand a firm shake. But not too firm—he was good like that, not too much Alpha bravado. Again, Aubrey noted, a good quality for a future therapist.
“Okay, see you then. By the way, my mother is going to send me home with far too many Christmas cookies—maybe even a pie or two, knowing her. Would it be a breach of ethics or anything if I brought you some at our next session?”
“That’s very kind of you, Cliff. But you should give those to your friends. I don’t really celebrate Christmas anyway.”
“Oh.” The boy blanched slightly, his posture hinting at embarrassment. “I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have assumed…”
Aubrey waved a hand indifferently. “No need to apologize. But go ahead and save those treats for your housemates. I’m sure they’ll appreciate them.” She gave another sharp nod. “Have a good visit with your family, and I hope you have a happy holiday, Cliff.”
“Thanks,” the younger Alpha nodded, his grin still sheepish but warm. “You t—I mean, safe travels, Aubrey.”
Aubrey stared at the door a few seconds after it closed. The last patient of the year. Nothing now standing between her and her trip to the airport. Her trip back… home.
She grimaced and raked her fingers through her short hair, which she’d noticed of late was looking greyer by the day. She hadn’t been back to North Crest since she was practically still a girl—barely more than twenty years old. Hell, she’d never really planned on going back at all. There was nothing there for her, after all.
Well, there was Anne. But Aubrey’s sister was nearly a decade younger and a now long-married Omega with three children. The occasional phone call was enough for Aubrey to feel like she’d fulfilled whatever level of sisterly obligation was necessary. And even then, they hadn’t talked for quite a while. Not since Anne started asking Aubrey to come back to North Crest, to visit their mother, to reconcile before the old crow died.
To lie and say everything was fine, Aubrey mentally corrected. To be a healing balm on that old woman’s conscious, to smile and agree to sweep all the old wounds under the metaphorical carpet.
Aubrey had refused, calmly but firmly. Even as Anne sobbed her soft Omegan sobs into the phone, the sound of which would set any Alpha’s teeth on edge, Aubrey had stood firm. She wasn’t going to come back. Not for her. Not for that woman who the world called Aubrey’s mother but who’d acted to her as anything but.
Then that woman had died and the law was clear that Aubrey—as the only Alpha child of the deceased—was officially the executor of the will and one responsible for her house in North Crest. Aubrey had tried to pass on the responsibility, to just let Anne’s husband sort it out, but the most recent iteration of the Inheritance and Estate Act clearly stated that Aubrey could only transfer the responsibility to a neutral party, like a representative of the court; that would be the only option to avoid coming back to North Crest and personally dealing with the house and its contents herself.
On the phone, Anne had begun to cry at the suggestion, insisting that it was disrespectful to their mother to have some stranger itemizing and commodifying everything. “It’s a job for family!” Anne persisted in her too-soft Omegan voice. This time, Aubrey found that she couldn’t say no.
Still, she’d put off the responsibility as long as she could, but now the paperwork needed to be submitted and the assets documented by the end of the year. Aubrey winced at her last memory of calling Anne. Her little sister had been so pleased when Aubrey told her she was coming to North Crest over the university’s winter break. “The kids will be so excited to see their aunt,” she’d practically cooed. “Goodness, you’ve never even met Cody! Can you believe he’s going into junior high now? Oh, they’ll all be so excited to have you with us for Christmas.”
“I’m just taking care of the estate work, Anne. That’s all.” Aubrey’s jaw clenched as she stated flatly, “You don't actually want me there for your Christmas. You only feel obligated to invite me.”
“Of course I want you there! You’re family!” Anne had responded eagerly. “I know that doesn’t mean much to you, but…”
“It didn’t mean much to our mother either,” Audrey stated flatly, her tone tight and strained. Even after the years and years of processing and therapy, it still hurt to even think much about the way her mother had looked at her, had treated her over the years.
Anne made a pouting, whining noise. “Aubrey, I just don’t understand you. I know mom could be a bit cold at times, but she loved us.”
“She loved you,” Aubrey quickly corrected. “She occasionally tolerated me, but more often was horrified by my existence.”
Anne was silent on the phone a moment before she finally said, “She was family, sis. You shouldn’t have cut her out of your life. Her or… or me.”
It was Aubrey’s turn to be silent before she replied, “Like I said: you don’t actually want me at Christmas.”
All communication since then had been short estate arrangements and coordinating emails with Anne’s Alpha husband. Which was fine. At least there wouldn’t be any more invitations for Christmas events. This year, Aubrey planned to spend Christmas the way she had every year: eating Chinese take-out and waiting for the holiday to be over.
Only this time, she was going to have to do that in her mother’s house, surrounded by the memories of why she felt sickened by the holiday in the first place.
* * *
The cab pulled away, leaving Aubrey standing in a foot-and-a-half of powdery white snow in front of her mother’s house. It looked exactly as she remembered it—white picket fence, a modest ranch style with paint the color of fresh cream. The neatly manicured garden had become neglected in the months since that woman’s death, but otherwise it was the same as in Aubrey’s youngest memories.
She absently wondered how such a cheery house could feel so haunting.
Covered in icicles and snow, the only aspect that felt incongruous was the lack of Christmas decorations. Her mother had loved decorating for Christmas. So does Cliff’s Omega mother, Aubrey noted to herself. Perhaps a trait common amongst women raised to be traditional Omegan housemakers. Aubrey’s mother had made sure that fresh evergreen garland had graced the fence each year, that the house was rimmed in bright white Christmas lights, and that a majestic green wreath had hung in the center of the front door. In the fresh Montana snow, it had looked like a picture on a postcard.
Aubrey shook her head as if to clear it of the memories.
The inside of the house smelled stale and dusty, but otherwise looked the same. Everything in its place, the crystal in the hutched cabinet sparkling behind presentation glass, the linen couch parallel to the garden windows as if still ready and waiting to receive neighbors as guests. When Aubrey had been a child, she hadn’t been allowed to sit on that couch for fear of grubby handprints and other opportunities for clumsy-Alpha-child stains.
Aubrey sighed. She’d decided that she couldn’t possibly stand to sleep in that woman’s old bed, and the room that had once been Aubrey’s had been turned into a reading room long ago… And so, this once forbidden couch was where she planned to sleep for the duration of her stay. It seemed almost a sacrilege, a defiling. It was thrilling and made her feel guilty at the same time, even though her mother wasn’t here to shame her anymore and the couch would probably be sold at an estate auction a month from now.
Aubrey wheeled her small suitcase over to the couch and took out her notepad and pen. Time to get to work.
For the next several hours, she itemized, sorted, and catalogued. All her mother’s dishes were counted and placed on the dining room table in neat stacks. All the kitchen items were taken out of their homes in the farmhouse-style cabinets and clustered on the kitchen counters. The books in the reading room were counted and sorted into neat stacks by type, easier for Anne and her husband to see what they wanted. For herself, Aubrey was sure she didn’t want a damn thing.
It was pitch black by the time she finished the reading room—her old bedroom, the pit in her stomach reminded her—and she was exhausted. She’d worked without thought, without letting the memories bog her down or oppress her too much. But she wasn’t optimistic about her dreams tonight…
Tomorrow she’d have to tackle her mother’s bedroom and the attic. She doubted she’d be able to be so detached then. She’d take a break in the morning, do something to fortify herself. For now, she threw blankets on the couch, curled up as best she could, and slept uneasily on the light linen.
In the morning, she at least was relieved she couldn’t remember any dreams.
* * *
“Thank you and merry Christmas!” called a cheery, melodic voice as a café customer waved goodbye and carried a stuffed-full take-out bag out with them into the snow. As the bag passed Aubrey’s nose, she smelled the tell-tale fragrance of fresh-baked pastries.
The café was warm and inviting, non-intrusive Christmas jazz playing as patrons clustered at various wooden tables with sandwiches, pastries, and large coffee mugs in hand. Aubrey thought she’d remembered that a bakery had been here when she was younger, but it had been nothing like this. Snow had started falling on her long walk to the main stretch of town, and now Aubrey felt warmed from the inside out in the coziness of the café. She carefully unwrapped her scarf, shook the snow from her short hair, and walked up to the counter. The glass case near the front was filled with inviting foods—small cakes and frosted scones, heaping ciabatta sandwiches, and beautifully decorated cookies.
“I’ll be with you in a moment!” the same melodic voice called right before Aubrey saw a slender Omega emerge from the back of the café with two plates in hand. She beamed at two patrons at a back table as she brought them their lunches, her large brown eyes practically sparkling with easy affability. Aubrey felt her breath catch her throat slightly. The woman was gorgeous, almost like a living porcelain doll with her flaxen hair, pale white throat, and flushed cheeks. Aubrey hadn’t really sown many wild oats in her time, but she was still a red-blooded Alpha who knew an achingly attractive Omega when she saw one. As the woman returned behind the counter and smiled approachingly, Aubrey was suddenly grateful for all the training she’d received as a psychotherapist on the topic of scent containment and control. No need to overwhelm the poor girl or make her feel harassed at work. Aubrey was fairly sure of her success in concealing her instinctive longing, as the Omega’s expression stayed warm but neutral. “Welcome! What can I get you?” the woman asked.
“Coffee,” Aubrey chuckled. “Drip, the largest size you have.”
“Rough day coming up?” the Omega asked, her pink lips pressed together in an empathetic half-smile.
“Rough week,” Aubrey corrected.
“But it’s the week of Christmas!” the petite woman practically sang.
“Precisely,” Aubrey replied. Then she shook her head. No need to be a Christmas grump to a complete stranger. “It’s just a busy time for me this year. A lot to get done.”
The woman hummed, looked around as if checking for witnesses, then leaned forward conspiratorially. “Are you one of Santa’s elves?” she stage-whispered. “I won’t tell if you are. Although,” her bright chestnut eyes scanned Aubrey from top to toes in a way that made her stomach—and something lower—flame with heat, “you’d be awfully tall for an elf.”
“I’m afraid Santa sacked me for forming an elf-union,” Aubrey faux-whispered in reply, leaning in to match the Omega’s pose. She immediately regretted it. God, but this woman smelled divine. Lemon and honeysuckle mixed with the flour and sugar scents from the bakery. Aubrey wanted to gather her in her arms and just breathe her in. Instead, she slightly cleared her throat and pulled back. “I’m afraid this time of year is just a tragic reminder of the unfair labor practices at the North Pole that I failed to improve.”
The woman’s laughter reminded Aubrey of holiday bells—cheerful, clear, and bright. “Well, let me get you that coffee, ma’am. Sounds like you’ll need it.”
As the petite Omega filled a large mug of coffee, Aubrey allowed herself a quick look. The woman’s wavy hair hung in light waves down her back, the front clipped back to keep it out of her face while she worked. She wore simple and comfortable-looking flats for shoes, and a long-sleeve blouse and simple A-line skirt under a starched burgundy apron, the latter which had hints of flour and other smudged baking ingredients here and there. Continuing up, Aubrey’s eyes couldn’t help but scan the Omega’s pale throat. No bite mark. How odd—this woman looked to be late-twenties or early-thirties at the youngest. Stunningly beautiful, sweet smelling, and charming too. Strange for such an Omega to be unclaimed at this age, even in a small town with limited options. As the woman turned and handed Aubrey the steaming mug, the female Alpha found herself quickly inspecting the woman’s hands for a wedding ring, a Beta tradition that served as a kind of marker for those in the population who couldn’t bite to seal a mating bond. But no… no ring either. It felt like a mysterious riddle: why on earth was this lovely person seemingly unmated and unbonded?
“Here you are,” the sparkling Omega said cheerily. “The largest coffee I could manage. I think this mug is just a smidge taller than some of the others.”
“You’re a darling,” Aubrey sighed, trying not to take much note of the sudden flush that decorated the top of the woman’s cheeks at the remark. “Thank you very much, miss…” She raised an eyebrow in invitation.
“Noelle,” the woman replied with a smile. “I’m Noelle.”
“Lovely,” Aubrey replied. The pink on the top of the Omega’s cheeks darkened. “Were you born near Christmas time?”
Noelle laughed with the same melodic clearness that Aubrey felt she could get addicted to hearing. “No, actually! June. My mother loved both the name and Christmas though, and my half-birthday is Christmas Eve, so I suppose that was enough of an excuse.”
Aubrey gave a small snort and found herself sighing, “Your mother wouldn’t happen to be a rather traditionally raised Omegan homemaker, would she? If so, I’m three-for-three on a theory about Christmas enthusiasts.”
“My parents actually run this business together and have since before I was born. My mother is an Omega, but she’s as much as a business owner as my father is. Workwise if not, well, legally.” Noelle gave a bit of a sniff as she added, with a bit more edge to her playful tone. “I wouldn’t have taken you as someone to stereotype, Madame Very Tall Elf.”
Aubrey felt her own cheeks flush from slight embarrassment rather than pleasure. “I apologize. I wasn’t intending to be rude.”
Noelle’s lips quirked back into a smile, and she shook her head, “No offense taken, ma’am.” She nodded toward the mug, “Afterall, you haven’t had your coffee yet. No one can be held too accountable for poor wording before coffee.”
“You’re too kind and absolutely right,” Aubrey chuckled. “My name is Aubrey, by the way. No need for the honorific.”
“Very nice to meet you, Aubrey.” Noelle smiled. “Now, can I get you anything to eat with your coffee?”
Aubrey hummed and looked at the glass case. “I should eat something. I have a big day ahead of me and sustenance will be important. So many options though…” She glanced back over at Noelle and smiled. “Do you have a favorite?”
“I do,” Noelle said. Her eyes glittered again.
“Well, I’ll order that then.”
Noelle laughed her clear, ringing laugh. “Don’t you want to know what it is?”
Aubrey shook her head as she fished her wallet out of her jacket pocket. Her voice dropped a bit lower as she purred to the sweet Omega behind the counter, “Surprise me.”