“You didn’t have to do that,” I say as soon as we’re alone again. “I can pay my own way.”
“Sure you can.” I’m not sure if he believes me or whether he wants to save my pride. Either way, I’m grateful. “Cole would kill me if you didn’t let us cover the bill. You’re courting our pack. We look after you.”
“Well, thank you.” I sneak a quick glance at him. The sexy asshole is still glowering “You really don’t have to stay. I’ll be fine on my own from here.”
He plonks himself down in a seat then crosses his arms. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Sitting side-by-side, I wring my hands nervously in my lap as the excruciatingly long minutes tick by. My wound has bled through the scrap of Damon’s shirt, but I don’t do anything about it, not wanting Damon to cause a scene. The silence feels like a heavy blanket over us, my skin prickling with even more heat when Damon side-eyes me.
“Faye Nightingale?” a nurse calls for me. “Your alpha can come with you, if you’d like?”
Although my rational brain knows this is a safe place, I still feel on edge. But I won’t ask Damon to stay when he already thinks I’m weak and pathetic.
“He’s not my?—”
“I’m coming,” Damon interrupts, jumping up and placing a firm hand on my shoulder.
In the exam room, the nurse checks me over before scribbling a bunch of notes to hand over to the doctor. We don’t talk while I sit on the exam table and Damon leans against the wall. I stare at the beige walls while he plays on his phone. The atmosphere is so tense that I feel like I’m losing my mind. On the positive side, the awkwardness completely distracts me from any discomfort in my leg. Finally, after what feels like forever, I breathe a sigh of relief when the doctor informs me that my wound is only superficial and doesn’t require stitches. They clean and wrap the wound, give me some painkillers, then send us on our way.
“Thanks for staying with me,” I say as we step out of the clinic. “You really didn’t have to.”
He shrugs nonchalantly then thrusts the helmet into my hands again.
“Can we…” Nope, stupid idea. He’s made it perfectly clear that he doesn’t want to spend time with me. “Forget it.”
“What?” he asks. “What were you going to say?”
“I was going to ask if we could get ice cream?” I know it’s late, but it’s still warm, and Vi’s sCream Queen truck will be out. Nothing beats a midnight sundae.
Damon’s jaw clenches, like he’s battling his inner will. I’m sure he’ll insist on taking me home or calling one of the other guys. Instead, he takes me by surprise. “Fine. But after that, I’m taking you home.”
Maybe this is progress?
The wind tickles my legs as we ride to the ice cream truck. After Damon parks near the bench I sat on my first night here, we join the line. I insist on waiting with him, despite Damon’s protesting that I should sit on a bench to rest my leg.
“Damon Silverwood!” Vi exclaims when we reach the front of the line. Her eyes sparkle when she looks at me. “And how could I forget you? The only two customers who order potato chips on their sundaes. I should have known. A match made in ice cream heaven is a match for life. Would you like your usual orders?”
My jaw drops. “You still remember my order?”
“I never forget an order!” Vi winks. “I can make you something different, if you’d prefer?”
“No!” I say, already salivating. “The usual is great.”
Damon nods with a grunt in agreement.
“So you like chips on your ice cream too, huh?” I ask when Vi turns away to busy herself making our sundaes.
His lips curve into a half-smile. “It’s the only way to eat it.”
“Right?” I laugh. “The savory and sweet just work together.”
“They do. Never trust Laz to buy you an ice cream. One time, he tricked me and put chili chips on it instead.”
Who knew it’d take ice cream toppings to break the ice between us? The tightness in my chest loosens.
Vi places our sundaes on the counter, which Damon insists on paying for, then we make our way back to the picnic bench to sit down. A few other students mill around, but it’s relatively quiet.
“Thank you for staying with me tonight,” I say.
