A Grumpy Christmas

neighbor was taking up more space in my head than he should have. Even though I was looking for a young omega in his early twenties, every picture I had bookmarked displayed an older alpha with gray at his temples. The only difference was the men in the pictures were smiling or trying to give off a sexy alpha vibe.
I wondered what Pierce would look like if he smiled. The man was drop-dead gorgeous. If it weren’t for the tight line of his lips and the slightly forlorn look to him when I’d barged in on him, the alpha would be a stunner. Hell, I thought he was hot, and I’d never considered going for an older man before. Closing my eyes, I tried to imagine Pierce Knowles with a deep seductive stare as he looked at me. His slate-gray eyes would be smoky, darkening as desire swirled in them.
I could almost imagine the man reaching out a hand to tip my chin up as he leaned in for a kiss. His lips would be firm, but giving as they met mine. Maybe he’d taste of chocolate and oranges, my favorite flavors, as his tongue swept into my mouth as he sought a seductive duel with me. Groaning, my cock hardened at the thought. I’d never been turned on so much by an alpha. Rubbing the outline of my hard dick through my pants, my breath hitched. My fingers lifted to the zipper tab, pulling it down. It was only halfway when the doorbell rang. Fuck!
Pulling the zipper back up, I stood, taking a breath before walking down the hall to the front of the house. I couldn’t see anyone through the glass, but I didn’t hesitate to open the door. Pierce Knowles sat on the walkway, his lap piled high with empty containers.
“Mr. Knowles, you didn’t have to bring those back. They’re those disposable kinds that you can use for a while but throw away,” I said, smiling down at the alpha.
“Call me Pierce. Mr. Knowles sounds too much like my father.” Pierce shrugged his massive shoulders. “I wasn’t sure. I’ve never had this kind of container. It looks pretty sturdy for disposable. Anyway, I washed them. Do whatever you want with them.” He lifted the stack, raising them for me to take.
As I grabbed the containers, I questioned the man shamelessly, hoping he’d stay for a few more brief moments. “How did you like the cookies?”
A small grin twitched at the man’s lips though he didn’t break out into a full smile. He nodded his head as he answered. “The cookies were amazing. I’ve never had anything quite like them before. Everything was good. Really good. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I’m glad you liked it.”
Nodding, the alpha flicked a wrist, sending his wheelchair backwards. “I need to go, but thank you for the food. It was very thoughtful of you.”
Before I could think of anything else to say, the man was gone, rolling across the lawn toward his house. I shamelessly watched the play of muscles as his strong arms maneuvered the chair up the ramp and through the door of his home. In the back of my head, a stray thought wondered what it would be like to have those strong arms wrapped around me. I shivered at the delicious thought. I bet that would be amazing.

Chapter Five
Pierce
Early in December, I made the trip to the cemetery to commemorate the anniversary of the worst event in my life. Since the paths weren’t the best when it came to wheelchair maneuverability, I was wearing my prosthesis. Walking was exhausting and by the end of the day, I’d be in pain. Not visiting wasn’t an option. I walked down the long row until I came to the headstone on a double plot.
The plot had been intended to be the final resting place of me and my omega, sometime in the far distant future when our son was a grown man with a family of his own. Instead, it held my omega and our young son, who’d barely been ten years old when he was taken from me. It wasn’t enough time. The years I’d had with them had gone by in a flash. We thought we’d had our whole lives ahead of us. It turned out Grant and I only had sixteen years together, a drop in the bucket of the years we should have had.
Kneeling down, I plucked a stray weed. The groundskeeper here did a good job of keeping the plots well-tended. I emptied the old flowers from the vases built into the headstone, one on each side.
In Grant’s, his favorite flowers. Carnations.
In Craig’s, the deep purple flowers from the Butterfly Bush I’d helped him plant in our backyard when he was determined to attract as many butterflies to our yard as possible. It had been a colorful year as bloom after bloom attracted several species of the little winged creatures. Craig had carefully researched the needs of butterflies through every stage of their life cycle, taking care to choose plants which fed the mature butterflies and plants which could feed the caterpillars which would hatch from the eggs they laid. Our backyard had become one big science experiment which lived on in the blossoms I carefully set into the vase. Perhaps a butterfly would find its way to Craig’s flowers here in the cemetery. I was sure my son would like that very much.
Standing, I wiped the tears I knew were falling. After all these years, this grave was the only place I could let go enough to show what was left of my grief. I’d raged and yelled out many times over the years, but here in the quiet, the tears fell silently. I had no words for how much I missed my guys. The grief was crippling at times. Sometimes, I wondered how I bore the pain that shredded my heart.
Hours later, the sun sank low behind the trees and