My chest tightens, the air in the room suddenly feeling too thick, too heavy, as if the very scent of him is wrapping itself around me. His honeycomb and clean cotton scent lingers. But there’s an undercurrent of something raw and undeniable.
I push the plate of food off to the side after taking a few bites, my fingers tightening around the mug in my hands. The smell of the food is gone. All I can smell now is him, his presence filling up every corner of the room.
“Lo?” Hayes snaps me out of my thoughts, and I blink, realizing I’ve been staring at him for way too long. The corners ofhis mouth curl up in that familiar mischievous smile, but there’s something in his eyes now. A flicker ofmore. “You alright?”
I reach up, my hand sliding against his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath my fingertips. His gaze drops to my hand, then back up to my face, his eyes darkening just a little.
And then, without thinking, I’m kissing him.
Imiss working.
I miss it a lot. I love having something to do, to focus on. Being alone and aimless doesn’t suit me much. Especially when my mind is wild and out of control.
So it’s a relief when I’m finally back at Hayes and Ford’s place, with Ford arriving last.
I practically run to greet him as he comes through the door, but I can’t throw my arms around him because he’s got bags clutched between his fingers.
Bags you’d get from a shopping trip.
“Ooh, someone went shopping without me? Here, let me help you carry it.”
Ford chuckles. “You can take it. This is all for you.”
I stare at him, blinking. “What do you mean?”
He gives me that half-smirk, the one that makes me wonder what’s going on behind his quiet eyes.
“I know you’ve been feeling a little… unsettled,” he says, reading my mind. “So I thought I’d grab some things that might make you feel more at home. Maybe make this place a little less… empty.”
I’m still standing there, blinking, trying to process what he just said, while my heart does that strange skipping thing it’sbeen doing since the moment he first walked back into my life. I didn’t expect this.
I step forward slowly, reaching for one of the bags, still uncertain, as if it’s some kind of trap. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to.” His tone is soft, sincere, and the simplicity of it disorients me a little.
He’s been paying attention to all those little things I’ve been avoiding about myself.
He sets the other bags down on the kitchen counter, and I glance at the contents. Bath towels, some lavender-scented candles, a few throw pillows. A basket of fresh fruit. A couple of plants. A bottle of wine.
I feel the sudden urge to shrink into myself. “You really didn’t have to. It’s not like?—”
Ford cuts through my rambling. “You’re not just here physically, Lo. You’re home for as long as you need to be. So I figured maybe this will make it feel like you actually belong here.”
I swallow, unable to find words for how much the gesture hits me. This isn’t just about the stuff he brought. It’s about the thought, the care.
My senses are suddenly flooded with his scent, pine sap, and leather warmed by a crackling fire. A shudder runs down my spine.
Ford’s watching me carefully, those hazel eyes never leaving my face, the hint of a smile still playing at the corner of his lips. It’s too much. Too right.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
My Omega hums again, a soft murmur in the back of my throat, and my hands are shaking as I reach for the bottle of wine.
Ford notices. His gaze sharpens, but he doesn’t push, doesn’t ask. He knows. He always knows. And that makes it worse. Makes everything teeter on the edge of something I don’t want to fall into.
“You’re welcome.”
He’s speaking directly to the part of me that’s desperate to cling to whatever control I have left. And I feel the grip of my independence slipping. Just a little.
