Lucy made me want to be a softer man.
I didn’t hug her.
Instead, my eyes fell on the covered bread dough bowl.
"Hey," I said, forcing a lightness into my tone that I didn't feel, "want to help me shape the dough into rolls? It should be ready now."
Relief flashed across Lucy's face at the change of subject. She nodded, sliding off the barstool and moving around the island. I grabbed a clean apron from a drawer and held it out for her.
"You might want to wear this. Flour gets everywhere."
She turned, presenting her back to me, arms slightly extended to slip into the apron. The simple gesture of trust wasn't lost on me. Again, I was struck by the force of Lucy’s indomitable spirit. Despite everything, she stood before me, vulnerable and waiting.
I placed the apron over her head carefully, my callused fingers brushing against the silky strands of her hair. The summery, uplifting scent of her enveloped me as I reached around to grasp the strings of the apron. My arms created a circle around her, not quite touching but surrounding her small figure nonetheless.
As I tied the strings at the small of her back, I found myself close enough that my breath stirred the fine hairs at the nape of her neck. She stiffened slightly, not in fear but in awareness.
"This family won't ever abandon you, Lucy-Loo," I whispered, mouth near her ear, voice thick with emotion. The nickname slipped out unbidden. I worried she’d hate it, becauseI’d called her that name in cruelty when I was being my very worst self.
I felt her breath catch, saw the slight tremble in her shoulders. When I pulled away, she turned to face me, eyes glistening with unshed tears. She nodded slowly, biting her lower lip.
For a moment, we stood there in the kitchen, neither moving nor speaking. It felt like the last barrier between us had crumbled. I had promised her a family. I’d offered DemonX as the safe harbor her own blood had failed to be. In doing so, I'd acknowledged what I'd been fighting for weeks: Lucy wasn't just our responsibility, or our Omega to protect. She wasn’t just a tool to stabilize our Alpha natures. She had become essential. Lucy was life itself.
She smiled.
And the sun appeared in the kitchen, blocked by not a single cloud.
Hers was a smile that I’d do anything to preserve.
57
FALLON
{Days later}
“‘She stood by the cliffs, listening to the waves furiously crash against the rocks below. It was as if the ocean felt her pain, raging against the cruel machinations of fate,'" I read, my voice pitched low to mirror the somber passage.
The comforting weight of Lucy sitting across my lap was a welcome distraction. Her head lay on one pillowed armrest; her legs were thrown over the other. Her supple backside was cradled between my thighs as we shared the oversized chair in her bedroom. I balanced the book carefully against her stomach, Lucy assuring me it didn’t hurt the scar there.
It was late evening, the only light coming from the floor lamp. It cast a haze over everything, including Lucy, somehow shifting her milky skin to a summer-kissed gold.
I continued reading, letting my voice rise and fall with the rhythm of the prose. These moments together before bed had become a balm for my soul. No matter how exhausting tour prep could be on any given day, reading with her revitalized me. Theothers had their own ways of connecting with Lucy, but this was ours. It was private, and I protected my time with her.
"Stepping closer to that perilous edge, she wondered if the frothy water below could absolve her sins. She wondered if it would carry her away from her worries. Mostly, she wondered if he would miss her when she was gone,'" I continued, acutely aware of Lucy’s every movement. She was lifting strands of her hair now, holding them up to the light, shifting them to make the silver catch fire.
I opened my mouth to read the next lines, but the words wouldn’t come out. It was so easy to lose myself when I was this close to her. My body tingled, basking in the warmth of her body pressed against mine. My eyes could stare forever at the delicate curve of her neck where it disappeared into the collar of her oversized sweater. Every part of her was more fascinating than designing stunts, devouring books, or exploring the body of a nameless woman in a smoky club.
Her lips, which seemed almost lavender-hued sometimes, parted ever-so-slightly. I wanted to kiss her so badly.Would she let me? Would she want that? Would the guys kill me?
With deliberate focus, I returned to the page. We’d decided as a pack that Lucy should make the first real move. Controlling ourselves around her was the toughest thing we’d ever done. Yet, my resolve wavered in these quiet, peaceful moments.
"'It would be so easy to fall and leave every painful memory behind in her wake, but she turned, beginning the journey back home. Twilight approached. Down the hill, candles were coming to life inside thatch-roof buildings, giving the effect of landbound stars.’” My voice carried easily, rising and falling, filling the space between floor and ceiling.
When I’d chosen this book, I’d not given the content much thought. I’d read it many times, but now I was reading it withLucy, putting myself in her shoes, wondering if she would hear something different in the words.
“‘When Diana stood outside her Uncle’s home, she felt as if she’d never left Morrow Head. Walking through this door was no different than plummeting into the sea, for both afforded her only coldness and suffering.”
I kept reading until I noticed a subtle change in the rhythm of Lucy's breathing. Glancing down, I confirmed she’d fallen asleep. The rise and fall of her chest had slowed, becoming deeper and more even. Her body had grown heavier against mine, relaxing completely.
