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But seeing the house again ... it made me relive everything and forced me to focus on the faces of the alphas who witnessed my torture—especially the last man, Vessnick. The one who assaulted me that final evening, and who theystillhaven’t found.
I was a bit of a wreck last night, barely sleeping and wracked with anxiety. I wonder if it would be weird to ask Lincoln for another of his sweatshirts. His scent on the one he gave me weeks ago has gradually faded, and I miss it. I wonder if he’d buy that I’m still scared around him and need more clothing to help keep that at bay ...
I blush at the thought of telling him I need his scent.
Better idea: I’ll just find a way to steal something from his bag.
Lincoln stands and bends down to offer me a hand up. I reach up automatically to take it, then I freeze. My eyes dart up to his, shocked. He looks equally as frozen. Both our arms stay outstretched, hands hovering barely an inch apart. Both he and Tanner have been so good at giving me space since I showed up, never coming closer than a foot or so, and certainly never touching me.
I’d bet both Lincoln and I were operating on autopilot.
Before I can overthink it any more, I close the minute distance, tentatively grabbing his hand. His skin is warm and a bit rough. It’s also damp, and I cringe internally realizing that my hand is undoubtedly covered in sweat as well.
He keeps his eyes locked on mine the entire time as he pulls me to my feet, giving my hand a gentle squeeze before letting go. All I feel is warm. Maybe a bit tingly.
Lincoln’s musky scent hangs like a cloud around us, deepened from working out.
I decide I feel safe.
He’s already walking away, heading toward our bags in the corner. I trot after him, reaching out to grab his hand once more and tugging him to a stop. He turns to face me, one brow raised in question.
“Ummm ...” I hesitate for just a moment, but then I tug him down as I raise my arms.
It’s not the easiest thing, trying to hug a giant when you’re only five foot two. I end up wrapping my arms around his chiseled waist and tucking my head against his chest. He meets me halfway, curling his body down around mine protectively, his arms around my back.
It’s slightly awkward. And sweaty. And wonderful.
A small purr escapes me, and I jump when a second later his much louder purr vibrates against my ear.
I allow myself a few more seconds in his arms before pulling away. I’ve been deprived of touch for so long, it’s hard to let go.
“Thank you.”
“For what, short stack?”
“Not for that nickname, that’s for sure.”
He laughs as I pout up at him.
“Just for, you know. Rescuing me. Being so careful around me. Training me.” I shrug. It makes me feel self-conscious to spell it all out.
I move away from him to grab my bag, and he does the same.
“Always, Espy.”
* * *
The dorm isempty when Lincoln drops me off. Em is at swim practice and Tanner is ... studying, maybe? Their schedules are up on the wall by the front door, courtesy of the “Dogs of River Valley” calendar I found on sale at the student bookstore. Given that it’s almost mid-October, I got it for a buck. November 5 is circled in red, marking the date I’ve signed up to take my SATs.
Blurgh.
I should probably use this time to study, but instead I grab my sketch pad from my “corner” and settle in on the couch.
I’ve been too nervous to text Micah. Em assures me he’s a great guy, and it’s not like Micah is trying to ask me out or anything. He wants a graphic artist to collaborate with, not to date me or kidnap me or sell me off ... He probably wants to be friends. Which sounds really great! In theory.
My anxiety disagrees.
Maybe it makes me a child, but I’ve been avoiding the cafeteria this past week, holing up in the library and dorm instead and getting Em and Tanner to bring me to-go containers so I don’t starve. I know they worry that I’ve regressed, but having to admit a crush to my brother isn’t happening.
