“I took a bunch of suppressants, and I just wanted to sleep. I didn’t want to hurt anymore. I wanted to be numb. I didn’t want to die. But I took too much. I started vomiting and my heart was racing. I knew I’d taken too much and so I called Dom. He was there right away and took me to the hospital. He’s the only person who knows almost everything that happened with me and Meera. He doesn’t know that me questioning why she could have Vernice and I couldn’t have Dom was the reason she hit me.” My mouth gapes open at her confession and I study her pretty face. She seems relaxed enough, not like she is going to start crying again.
“Are you okay?” I ask. The question sounds as stupid as when she said she was sorry earlier. Like there’s no answer. How can someone be okay after that? My heart races, and I want to touch her, soothe her, make her understand that she didn’t deserve what happened to her.
She turns back around and looks at me. I can’t help it when I place my palm in hers. Her hand is delicate and soft. My thumb strokes the smooth skin between her knuckles.
“Yeah, today was just a setback. I had been doing really well. I go to therapy. I uh… well, my suppressants, it’s under control.”
It feels like she is leaving something out. But I don’t push, it sounds like besides Dom and her therapist I’m the only other person who has gotten this information out of her. It weakens any reservations I ever had about her intentions, that inky green vine of jealousy lessening its grip around my throat.
“Today was the first time you saw her?”
“Yeah, I didn’t know it was going to hit me this hard, I thought… I thought I was over it. That it didn’t hurt me so much that someone I loved thought I wasn’t enough. Someone I put my trust in wouldn’t physically hurt me. I just never thought,” she hiccups and I pull her against my chest.
It’s a weird feeling being someone’s comfort, and I can’t deny that it makes me feel warm and full on the inside. Is this how Dom feels when he comforts me? I never realized how rewarding it could be. I’ve clearly been too hard on myself and as I hold the gentle, sweet Omega against my chest, I sigh in contentment and everything begins to click. Why she and Dom have this connection, why they make sense, how we could all make sense together.
Stroking her dark blonde hair, I inhale her blueberry scent; it feels stronger than I remember from the last time I saw her. Maybe her heightened emotions are causing her to scent more?
“I’m sorry,” she says, wiping under her eyes and attempting to pull away.
“Don’t be sorry, this is nice.”
She nuzzles lightly against my chest and if I could purr; I know I would be right now.
“It is nice. You smell amazing.”
“So do you,” I tell her. My one hand is still in her hair while the other slides behind her shoulder blades. Her face is pressed tightly against my chest and I can feel a whine wanting to rip from my throat.
Before it does, she whines and I groan. Fuck, is that what I sound like? It makes me hard and I realize that I want this complicated woman in my arms. It’s not just me being accommodating to Dom and putting his needs first. I actually want her too. As she lies in my arms, her face tear streaked, all I want to do is make it better. I don’t ask as I press a tender kiss on the crown of her head.
Her head pops up from my chest as she grabs each side of my jaw and kisses me gently. It’s soft and apprehensive, but I can feel her confidence increase as I kiss her back. Kissing Kelsey makes me feel confident, like she’s showing me how I should see myself in other people’s eyes. It’s hard to explain. I know that Dom loves me and cares about me, but he’s an Alpha, it’s in his nature. But being wanted by another Omega, it’s like I’m stripped down to my true essence and being wanted for reasons beyond my designation.
She pulls back, and I want more. I want to kiss her all night. I would if she let me.
Her hands still caress my jaw, and she dabs my nose ring and smiles. “I really like this. Thank you for sharing with me, Cameron.”
“Thank you for trusting me.”
Her eyes are slightly glassy as she nods her head and pulls back. Okay, so we’re taking things slow, I can do that.
“So, what do you do for fun?” she asks.
“I’m really into Lego,” I tell her, my cheeks heating, wondering what she will think of my hobby, or the fact I have a room filled to the brim with it.
“Show me?” she says, and I can’t help but smile.
“Sure, what about you?”
“Anything creative, I’m lucky that I get paid to do what I love and I have a lot of control over the things I want to design.”
I hop off the bed from the nest first and hold out my arm to help her down. She slides her palm against mine and it’s like the most natural thing. I’m used to Dom’s massive hand, which I love, but this is nice, too.
As we walk down the halls, I watch her as she takes in everything–cataloging our home. Once we get to my office space, a smile takes over her face.
“So you really like the beach and Star Wars,” she says. The room is filled with multiple completed sets and my own creations. She takes the most time looking at the Ewok Village and I try to hide my wince as she picks up one of the mini figures and holds it between her thumb and forefinger.
When she looks over to me, her cheeks pinken, and she hands me the Ewok. “I’m so sorry. I should have asked before I touched.”
“It’s all right,” I tell her, placing the mini figure back where he belongs. “These are all the ones that are my own design,” I say, directing her to the left wall. She smiles and takes in each of my pieces. I can’t tell if she is being polite or if she really appreciates them for what they are. Since she enjoys art I would hope that she could understand my appreciation for the small plastic bricks and the joy they give me.