He frowned. “What do you mean? Like a shrink? Jesus, Adam, I’m not crazy, I’m sad! There’s a difference!”
“No, no,” I assured him. “Not anything like that. A therapist. Just someone to talk to, someone who can listen to your sorrow without judging you. Someone who can help you come up with coping tools when you feel this low.”
My heart ached as my mate began to cry again, his shoulders quaking. “I-I just… I feel broken.”
“I know, but you’re not, baby. I don’t love you any less, you know that, right?” I gently tugged him to my chest, kissing the mop of red curls atop his head. “We both need time to grieve this loss, but there are always options.”
Fletcher sniffled. “Like what?”
“You grew up in an orphanage,” I told him. “You know firsthand what it feels like to be looked over and ignored. Not picked, because you were an Omega. We could adopt a shifter kid in need, one who has never had the chance to be seen. We could give them a great life and a loving home. Not right now, but when we’re ready.”
Fletcher swallowed hard and nodded. “Yeah…”
“I have the number of a therapist. She specializes in Omega trauma. If I make an appointment, will you at least go and give it a chance? For me? Pretty please?”
He turned those teary green eyes on me. They welled up and spilled over, but he nodded. “Y-Yeah… I’m so sad, Adam. All I ever wanted was to have a happily-ever-after with you and to raise a family together. Life hasn’t gone the way I’d hoped.”
“It never does,” I said solemnly. “But I don’t love you any less. We’ve made it through so much—this is just another obstacle in our path.”
“Right.”
“I love you, kitten,” I told him. “On your sunshine days, and on your stormy ones.”
With a soft sob, Fletcher flung himself at my chest. I wrapped my arms so tightly around him, hugging him close. His voice was muffled by my shirt, but I heard him when he said, “I love you too.”
“Everything is gonna be okay,” I promised him. “We just need time to grieve and heal, that’s all.”
“C-Could we go cuddle in bed?” he whispered, pulling away just enough to peer up at me. “I’m feeling needy.”
I smiled at him. “Your wish is my command.”
Then, without another word, I scooped my mate up despite his soft squeal of surprise, and I carried him down the hall to our bedroom.
And I cuddled the hell out of him.
58
FLETCHER
Grief was a funny thing.One day, it might feel like you’re okay again and everything is fine and you’re back to your normal self, and the next, you’re a mess, sobbing over everything that’s been torn away from you.
I started going to the therapist that Adam had found. Her name was Gretchen and she was absolutely wonderful. She was a kindly older woman with mousy gray hair and oversized librarian glasses that always slid down her nose a bit.
Right away, we had a rapport and I cried my heart out in her office every Tuesday at two PM. She was there to comfort me, and to offer solutions and support. Having lost a child herself, she understood my pain to some degree.
Weeks passed by, then months, and then it was summer again.
On a sweltering July evening, Adam surprised me by offering me a single red rose and one of his charming smiles. I bit my lip and took it, drawing the petals to my nose and breathing in its fragrance.
“Come to dinner with me tonight,” he said, like we were young and in love all over again. “It’s too hot to cook. I’d rather someone else do it for us.”
I laughed out loud. “Amen to that. Dinner sounds lovely. What are you thinking?”
“Well, we’ve been talking about going to that place on Vale St—the old brick place with all the graffiti? Let’s go there tonight,” Adam suggested.
“Sounds nice,” I agreed, smiling up at him. He grinned back down at me, so I leaned up on my tiptoes and kissed him—short, sweet and to the point. “There’s more where that came from…after dinner.”
Adam only laughed and swatted my ass. “Go get ready.”
