“Hey, hey, shhhh,” I soothe, squeezing her hands gently. “I’m not a mind reader. You’ve gotta tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it.”
I wrack my brain with what to say as she just looks at me silently, her eyes wide with panic. There are tears clinging to her lower lashes.
“I’m not mad. And nothing you say will make me mad, I promise. Just—just talk to me, Sugar.”
“I—I don’t want to choose,” she whispers, her gaze dropping to our connected hands.
“Huh? You don’t want to choose dinner?” Well, that definitely wasn’t what I was expecting from her.
She gives me a jerky nod.
“You’re freaking out ‘cause I asked you to choose?”
More nodding. Like a pretty bobblehead.
“I’m gonna need you to explain to me why,” I murmur, stilling her nodding with a gentle grip on her chin.
“I’ve never had to choose what to eat before,” she mumbles. “I don’t want to make the wrong choice. What if—what if I pick wrong?”
The urgency in her voice, the open dread in her expression, and the sourness of her strawberry scent all scream that she’s beingcompletely honest with me. The idea of picking a frozen meal to eat is freaking her out.
“You’re not going to pick wrong, Sugar.” I shift my hold on her face so I’m cupping her cheek.
Her eyes flutter shut as she leans into my touch. That slight movement makes me want to burn down this entire compound so I can keep her with me.
But that’s fucking stupid.
I’m a beta. I’ll never be enough for an omega like her.
So, I should crush those dreams while I can.
“Can you—can you still pick for me?” She asks softly. “Please?”
“Course I can. You’ve just gotta promise me to tell me whether or not you like it, ‘kay?” I answer, my throat tight. It’s just a stupid frozen meal, but she trusts me to make the choice for her.
To someone who’s always lived in the shadows, who’s always known he’s not good enough for jack shit, it’s an intoxicating feeling.
The way her strawberry scent sweetens as she looks up at me hits me just as hard as an enhancement drug dose.
“Okay!” She nods eagerly.
The wordsgood girlare on the tip of my tongue, but flashes of Jett calling her a good little omega make the words die before they leave my lips.
I shake my head. I can’t forget the situation we’re actually in. That’s dangerous.
“I’m a big fan of chicken Alfredo, so how ‘bout you try one of those?” I ask as I make my way to my fridge. “Have you ever tried chicken Alfredo before?”
She shakes her head, and my jaw clenches. What kind of fuckass facility was she living in? And how long was she kept there? ‘Cause everyone I know has had fucking pasta before.
“I wouldn’t want to take something you really like,” she says,her voice a little shaky. Dammit, she could probably see how pissed I was getting.
I turn back to her and offer her a small, reassuring smile, like the ones she tries to give me.
“Nah, if you’ve never had chicken Alfredo before, we’ve gotta fix that. It just means I have someone else I can share the joy with, you know?”
“If you’re sure...” she says, trailing off, her hands clasped nervously in her lap.
“I’m sure, Sugar.”
