“You ran off so quickly, and I was scared.”
My eyes widen. “Scared of what?”
“Scared that I would never be able to find the words to bring you back. To show you that no matter what, it would be okay. I don’t want to mess this up, and I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Fang huffs. “If I hear one more ‘I’m sorry’ out of either of you, I’m going to lose it.”
Ivan snorts.
Before I can tell Logan he’s being ridiculous for blaming himself, he continues. “Have you heard of box breathing?” he asks.
I frown. “I think so.”
“When I operated on Trooper, I was terrified,” he says. “I didn’t know if he would make it. I didn’t know if there would be complications from his amputation, and it was the first time there was a fear in me that I couldn’t put into words. He was just a stray cat that needed the operation. Ivan was there.”
“I was,” Ivan says. “But I didn’t know you were terrified.”
“Box breathing kept me going. It was the first time in a long time I was truly scared. I was a…unique kid,” he says quietly, only to me. “When I was little, I was terrified of a lot of things. And my first therapist taught me how to inhale for four, hold for four counts, then exhale. It got me through my childhood, and it got me through Trooper’s operation.”
“I didn’t know you were in therapy,” I say.
“Not anymore. As a child, I was. I’m a big fan of your idea of kitten therapy.” He smiles softly and squeezes my hand. “I’m a big fan of everything you do.”
I narrow my eyes. “Not today, you weren’t,” I say.
“Not today.” His smile is still gentle. “But most days. And no matter how scared you get, it won’t change.”
His eyes fall to my lips, and he clears his throat.
“Logan,” I say.
“Yes?”
“You can kiss me, whenever you want.”
“Okay.”
Tentatively, he leans down and presses his lips to mine.
I smile against the kiss. It’s sweet, gentle, and loving.
There’s no passion behind it, just careful devotion.
“If it ever gets hard again, like it did today, I’ll box breathe with you whenever you want.”
I beam. “I like that idea.”
And with their scents swirling everywhere, the combination of apples, leather, and bourbon, my inner Omega is at ease.
Maybe I didn’t have to run away, after all.
Maybe I didn’t have to be ashamed of the turmoil in my mind.
I don’t have to suffer alone.
They remake my nest.
I allow them to do it, pleased to be pampered in such a way.
