“We’re all topped off, so we’re fine,” the principal of the elementary school says. For reference, he’s hanging out and drinking a coke with his friends.
Club 21 is a hang out for the community, and they all adore Silva. He gives me a meaningful glance, to which I nod.
“I miss you, and the bar is handled,” I say, coming around to grab her hand.
“I miss you too,” she mumbles, following me to the back hallway. “Where are we going?”
“Your office,” I reply.
God she’s cute, even when she’s run off her feet.
Silva unlocks the office door, hitting the lights as we walk in. It’s the same dim lighting in other parts of the club, and is gentle on the eyes.
Closing the door and locking it, I grab her ass and lift her until her legs wrap around me.
“Hi,” I murmur, walking over to the sofa. “How about coming home tonight?”
“That sounds good. Everyone is just about settled. I wouldn’t say they’re doing great, but we have therapist appointments for those who want them. I think it helps to know there are others who not only went through what they did, but also survived,” she says.
“Baby, you’re thriving,” I remind her. “Nightmares are down, Gideon is dead, and you helped those women get out. The keeper of the dolls is gone, and his sex trafficking ring is dead.”
“It’s not all roses,” she grumbles.
“No, but you can’t fix everything in a day, or even a few of them. Each of the women who are here now have to find theirown way, Spitfire,” I say. “You can offer support, but you can’t fix all the shit that happened before this.”
Her bottom lip trembles, and God, it feels as if all the air in the room evaporated. Fuck me, I hate it when she cries.
“Tell me,” I rasp, my fingers moving up her back. “What are you running from? I know you had an X-ray with Amy, and Harlan told me that your ribs are bruised but not broken. It still has to hurt like a son of a bitch, baby. You should be taking it easy.”
“I can’t,” she gasps out, tears shining from her gaze. “I feel so much fucking guilt, Syrus. I just want to help them piece their lives back together.”
“I know. That’s going to be a slow process, and you can’t rush it in an effort to feel better,” I tell her honestly. A tear rolls down her cheek, and I realize I’m not explaining myself well. “Let’s back up. Regret is normal, but your guilt is misplaced. Sometimes, in order to be able to help others, you have to put on your own life preserver. Otherwise, you both drown, right?”
Tentatively, Silva nods, trying to follow my logic as the tears drip down her chin and onto my shirt.
“That's what you did with your sister and your friends. You cobbled together a life, a haven for other omegas, so you had something to offer the omegas still in Henderson estate. Right?”
“Right,” she gasps, her tears gathering steam.
Tears are therapeutic, Syrus. Don’t lose your shit.
“Okay. So no more talk of guilt, baby girl. They’re freenow, to do what they want with that freedom, yeah? It’s all up to them now.”
Kissing her lips, I sigh at how soft they are. Silva moans as she angles her head to deepen it, and it makes me smile.
“What’s it going to take to change your mood?” I murmur. “Do you need a nap, or to scream out an orgasm or two?”
A knock interrupts me, and I scowl, making Silva grin.
“I don’t want to get up,” she confesses. “Whoever it is can go away.”
The door opens as if there’s no lock, and I keep Silva from turning as Harlan strolls inside. It’ll just hurt her, and that’ll make me throw something at the man.
“I heard the bartender was a little grumpy,” he says, holding up her favorite iced coffee.
Yes, I’m aware it’s cold, but sometimes iced just hits the spot better than hot coffee. I don’t make Silva’s rules, but I will abide by them. Usually.
“Harlan,” she murmurs.
