He cleaned his plate down to the last smear of gravy, even peeling off two slices of old bread, picking away the moldy bits, and sopping up every drop. He drained the glass of milk I’d set out for him too.
Leaning back, he looked at me. “Thank you. Did you make that?”
He sounded so genuinely surprised I couldn’t help but smile. “I did.”
“It was very good.”
“I enjoy cooking,” I said with a small shrug.
His face fell a little. “I’m…not very good at it,” he admitted. “I can make a few things, if they come in a package. As long as they have instructions.”
“That’s alright.” I waved it off. “Maybe I’ll teach you a few basic recipes sometime, since you’ll be living here.”
He gave me a hesitant little smile.
“Come on,” I said. “I’ll show you the room you’ll be staying in.”
We went upstairs to one of the guest bedrooms. It was fairly large, with a queen bed, a dresser and two matching oak bookshelves flanking the headboard. The walls were painted a robin’s egg blue, with soft cream curtains draped over the windows.
I gestured toward the bed. “This is yours, for now, until we decide otherwise. I expect you to keep it tidy, but consider it yoursafe space. I won’t come in here unless you ask me to. I know Omegas need their privacy.”
He blinked, looking a little stunned. “Yes, sir,” he murmured.
“Adam,” I corrected gently.
He nodded quickly. “Thank you.” His voice wavered slightly, and I wondered if he was about to cry.
I reached out and squeezed his shoulder. “Why don’t you take a nap? You look exhausted.”
He let out a small, shaky laugh. “I am. Thank you.”
He glanced around the room again, his expression wary, almost disbelieving.
“Adam… Are you sure? About this? About me? You really don’t have to do this.”
“I know,” I said quietly. “And yes, I’m sure. Get some rest.”
With a small nod, I turned and left, closing the door softly behind me.
As I made my way back downstairs, I kept wondering: What kind of life had Fletcher lived to end up like this?
And why did I care so much?
5
FLETCHER
For the longest moment,I just stood there.
Adam had closed the door gently behind him, leaving me alone, and I was frozen in place.
I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d had a room of my own. In my last foster home, I’d shared a small, office-sized area with three other boys, two metal bunk beds crammed into the space with only room enough for one dresser.
This? This was almost too much.
Taking a shaky breath, I walked over to the queen bed and sat down gingerly on the edge. My hands ran slowly over the comforter. Soft, clean, cozy. Everything I both craved and felt I didn’t deserve.
I wanted nothing more than to crawl under the covers and vanish, but the thought of putting my grimy, unwashed body between those clean sheets made my stomach knot. I hadn’t had a real shower in forever. Even with the stolen stick of deodorant, I still smelled like sweat and street life.
