Searching For His Omega - Harper B. Cole Page 0,1

suited the former me. But the new me—the one who’d witnessed violence up close and had stared death in the face—wasn’t up to it.

Reaching a conclusion about my future was hard enough, but having to fess up to Abrar was another. He’d placed his trust in me and laid out a career path which ended with a fancy corner office and company perks.

But it wasn’t just that. He cared about Stan, the omega, not just the employee. And I had to do right by him. No email or phone call. Face-to-face with a long-ass explanation.

And I was meeting him in less than an hour. I stared into the mirror and examined the hollows under my cheeks. Turned out extreme trauma caused a loss of appetite. Food had no taste and I had to force myself to eat. Not to mention the nightmares. Waking up in the middle of the night, drenching in sweat, my face rigid and mouth open in the shape of a silent scream.

One deep, hopefully calming breath and I was out the door. Abrar had invited me for lunch at his home. From our chats on the phone and his visits to my apartment, he understood I wasn’t ready to face the staff in the office or even my old stomping grounds at the coffee shop, so he’d invited me to his place. His husband was at work and the kids were at school so it was the dog who bounded out and greeted me when my boss opened his front door.

Having a wet tongue licking my face was the perfect way to avoid awkward small talk. I wandered into the house with the dog clambering for a treat and was met by the most amazing aroma. “Wow! Smells like you’re quite the chef.”

“Hope you like paella,” Abrar said as he handed me a soda. I’d used a ride-share but alcohol didn’t go well with my state of mind, so I was a teetotaler, or should I say a coffee-totaler for the moment.

“Sounds good. I’m starving.” Shit! I am. I’m actually hungry. Making a decision had cleared some of the clutter from my head, but now I had to spit it out. “Before we eat, I need to tell you something,” I said as I carried a salad and crusty bread to a table on the patio overlooking a pool and the lush garden.

He paused and studied my face, and I was certain he could see what was inside my head. “Sure, but we can eat and talk at the same time.” He ladled paella on my plate, and my mouth watered.

I stuffed a spoonful of rice and seafood in my mouth, hoping my boss couldn’t hear my heart hammering. The distinctive flavors of saffron, shrimp, and lemon flowed over my tongue, and it was glorious. “This… this is delicious.”

“Glad you like it,” he said as his dark eyes studied my face.

“I need a change, Abrar—at work, I mean.”

He paused, a spoon halfway to his mouth. “Take as much time as you want, Stan. What you experienced was… horrific.”

“It’s not that. Well, no, it is. Turns out getting walloped on the head with a gun makes you see the world differently.”

Abrar sipped his soda. Even though he was at home and could have had a beer or wine, he chose a non-alcoholic drink like me. “I can only imagine, but time is a great healer, as well as the sessions with the therapist.”

I’d been told by the nurses at the hospital that my boss had been by my bedside that first night while the doctors ran tests, and his was the face I’d seen after I woke up. I owed him so much and hated to disappoint him, but I had to do what was best for me. “I can’t thank you enough for being so patient, Abrar. You’re not just a boss, you’re a good friend, which makes this so hard to say.”

“You’re leaving me.” His disembodied voice held no hint of surprise.

“Yes. No. Sort of, but not really.”

“Glad that’s sorted.”

His sarcastic remark had me grinning. “You’re opening a new café up north and I’d like to be considered for the manager.” Where did that come from? It had crossed my mind, sure. I was planning on quitting, except in my heart, that wasn’t what I truly wanted. No going back now.

Abrar furrowed his brow and sat back in the chair. “Look, no one expects you in the office just yet. Go on vacation, explore the