“Daddy! It’s not fair.”
“Imogen. How was work, Daddy? Did you have a good day?”
Imogen pouts and crosses her arms over her chest. “Yes, yes, all that. But why does Daphne get to go out all night? She’s only thirteen. You didn’t let me until I was-”
I creep past and slide into the kitchen, which is thankfully empty. I love staying here, but I can’t wait until our home renovations are done. The Sols are a lot of personality.
I set the cake down on the counter and climb the stairs to our room, her room. I’d known the minute I’d stepped inside that it was hers. It has been the most exquisite kind of torture, lying in her bed, imagining her in her bed. Smelling her scent on everything, including my skin.
I grab my stuff and head to the shower, taking a quick one before I wrap a towel around myself and slip out of the bathroom. I’m almost to her room, my room, when the door opposite mine opens up.
She comes out in a cloud of ginger, mango, and coconut. Her auburn hair so striking as it catches light and turns to fire. I always loved the colour of her hair. I’d never seen a colour like that until I came to stay with my grandparents in Sunshine Cove.
We collide because I have nowhere to go and she’s right there, and even if I wanted to go somewhere, I couldn’t move because it’s Sofia, and she’s here in front of me, after all this time.
Omega. Mine.
I shove that voice down in a panic. What was that?
She bounces off me and turns, looks at my naked chest, the towel wrapped around my waist, her eyes climbing until she’s looking at my face, and I brace myself, waiting. Brown eyes, warm with those flecks of green that I noticed when the dawn came all those years ago. It’s her.
Really her.
“Eli?” She is the only person in the world who calls me Eli.
Relief sweeps through me, and I grin, though I’m sure it looks wobbly. She called me Eli. I could sing, I’m so happy.
“Sofia, welcome home,” I say instead with a slim shred of dignity.
Her eyes dip down my body and come back up. She swallows three times and then abruptly steps back.
“I didn’t know if you’d remember me,” I say softly.
“How could I forget you?” She frowns, looking around. “What are you doing here, though?”
“My pack is staying here.”
“Oh?” She’s confused for a long moment. “OH! You’re with Devon?”
I shrug. “Or he’s with me.”
There’s an expression on her face now that looks more familiar. She’s panicking. I remember seeing her around town and hearing someone yell her name; she’d get that exact look on her face.
“We have cake,” I spit out.
“Cake?” she asks and the panic stalls.
“Yes, to welcome you home. We brought cake. Well, truthfully, I baked it.”
She darts the tip of her pink tongue across her bottom lip, turning it glossy. Oh, god, I’m getting hard. Stop thinking! Stop looking.
“I’m going to get dressed, and then I’ll be down,” I say, now in my own world of panic.
“Oh, okay. I should-” she looks down at herself. She’s wearing an oversized jumper with leggings.
“You look perfect,” I say before I can stop myself. “Beautiful as always.”
Her eyes get even wider, and I think perhaps I shouldn’t have said that. “Thank you?”
