But that doesn’t quiet the worries in my head, or the aching, agonizing feeling that maybe I’ll never be understood.
Perhaps there’s a reason I haven’t scent matched with Ivan.
Despite his sweetness, kindness, and patience, maybe he’s just not the right one for me.
Maybe I’ll never be fully seen, especially if all people receive from me are my constant worries and erratic questions.
The thought is devastating.
Even Bean stops squirming in my arms as I bring him to the room behind the play area into a private kennel. I place him inside, and he happily goes to the short scratching post that’s in there.
Maybe chamomile just doesn’t go well with apples and caramel.
Who knows.
I enter the playroom with a heavy weight in my chest.
“It could be a million things,” I say to Coral, the sweet ginger girl that’s loafing on a plush cat bed in the corner. I join her on the floor, humming to myself while I pet her. She leans her cheek into my touch, and I rub at her face while she closes her eyes in bliss.
From his little isolation corner, I hear Bean sneeze again, and I sigh in defeat.
2
IVAN
The girlnext door is remarkable.
Her sweet chamomile scent still lingers in the exam room, and for the rest of my shift I try not to let thoughts of her fill my head.
But that’s impossible.
Maeve is a ball of light that waltzed into my life and made everything brighter.
She’s my first thought in the morning, and the final image in my mind before I go to bed.
In short, I am downbadfor this Omega.
It would be embarrassing if I had any ounce of pride when it comes to Maeve, but I justdon’t.
There’s no hiding how I feel about her. I know I look at her like she hung the moon and stars.
With her ever-changing hair, tempting scent, and sympathetic heart, she’s perfect in my eyes.
She worries about the cats, and I wish I could take that fear from her.
I also know that she’s embarrassed by it, but she doesn’t need to be.
It just shows how big her heart is—her compassion for animals is something to be admired, not shamed.
But I’m not sure how to tell her that.
There’s a lot I want to say to her; but I’m still not sure what the right words are.
Her attraction to me is obvious—her pupils widen, her face flushes, and her scent spikes with sweetness when she sees me.
Everyone with a pair of eyes knows how I feel about her, too.
The scent match hasn’t happened yet, but even if it never does, I don’t care.
