“You’re one to fucking talk,” Lottie grumbles.
“Lottie!” Hazel and I both say at the same time.
Lottie looks between the two of us, shakes her head, and scoops up some custard. “This whole pack bond is going to be freaky.” She takes her first bite, slowly tasting the creamy goodness, and she gives me a new look, one of respect. “This is good.”
I arch an eyebrow. “Just good?”
She huffs. “It’s amazing, okay? Now move, you’re blocking my view.”
“You’re welcome,” I sing-song, heading back to grab myself and Hazel our own bowls, and as my back is turned, I hear Lottie whisper to her sister.
I really like him.
Lottie falls asleep halfway through the season, and after Hazel puts her to bed, I help her clean up. The smile she’s wearing goes straight to my ego. I may not do a lot of good things, but making her happy is one of them.
“You know,” she begins, tossing out a container. “You never told me your truths.”
I side-eye her. “I thought you might’ve forgotten.”
She shakes her head. “I keep track of debts.” Edging closer to me, she bats her eyelashes. “So, truth number one is?”
“Custard is better than ice cream.”
“Maddox,” she complains, nudging me. “Real truths.”
Sighing, I rinse off the bowl I was washing, shut off the sink, and turn to lean against the counter. “They’re not fun truths.”
“That’s okay.” She steps into my space, wrapping her arms around me and gazing up at me like she thinks I hung the moon. I don’t deserve that adoration, but I’ll eat it up.
“Truth one. You’ve noticed my. . . habits?”
She nods.
I tug the spinner she got me. “Right, well it’s not OCD. When I was younger, I had a traumatic brain injury and now the fidgeting is. . . something I do to soothe myself I guess. I can’t always control it, and it mostly happens when I’m bored or anxious. . . or thinking something I shouldn’t be thinking.”
I search for judgment but find none. “What are you thinking?”
“On the train the other day you did it, why?”
“I was thinking about doing bad things to my omega.”
She sucks in a breath and her cheeks turn crimson. “Oh.”
A purr rumbles in my chest. I like that she’s so responsive to me. “Truth two: I love when you blush.”
She narrows her eyes. “That feels like cheating.”
I shrug. “But it’s true.”
“Mad.”
“Okay, okay. That one doesn’t count.”
“So you owe me three more. Tell me something real.” She pauses, smile faltering. “What about your family?”
“You sure you want to know?” I ask, voice rough. “It’s not a pretty story.”
Her brow creases. “Only if you are comfortable sharing.”
