Page 97 of Broken Bonds

As soon as I glance at the clock and realize it’s already half past ten, I quickly gulp down the rest of my coffee and rush through my shower, deciding to skip washing my hair since I washed it a few days ago. I wrap my hair up after I dry myself, walking to the guest room naked since none of my towels will wrap around me now. I stop just before I enter and look over at our bedroom, nibbling on my lip as I war with myself.

I have some new maternity clothes in the closet in there that will fit me better than what I have in the guest room, but am I really ready to go in there? I know I’ve been itching to get into my nest for weeks now, but I still haven’t been brave enough to go in.

Taking a deep breath, I back away from the guest room and go to my bedroom door instead. I stand there for a moment, my hand pressed against the door and my limbs shaking.

“You can do this. It’s time,” I whisper to myself, reaching for the handle and turning it.

As I push the door open and step inside, I’m greeted by a dark room, thanks to the blackout curtains being drawn closed. In the darkness, with my heart pounding, I search blindly for the light switch, my fingers grasping at the air until they finally find the switch. With a flick, the room is bathed in light, and I let out a breath I didn’t realize I had been holding.

Everything looks exactly the way it did all those months ago. Like stepping back in time, a sliver of what used to be.

The guys’ clothes are strewn across the room, the bed an unmade mess, and it smells like all of us, though the scents have gone stale with time. I move to the bed and sit, wrapping the comforter around my shoulders. I take a deep inhale, hints of Lake’s cinnamon, Van’s leather, Ollie’s citrus and rosemary, and Rule’s sandalwood scents making me close my eyes as memories flood in.

All of us, tangled together in this bed, them holding me, loving me.

This time, when I cry, it feels cathartic. Needed. But I know after, I’ll get up and get dressed, and I’ll be fine.

It’s okay to cry, I just can’t let the grief consume me anymore.

I take a few minutes to let my tears out, to smell my alphas and enjoy the feeling of them surrounding me again, and then I carefully drop the comforter back onto the bed. In the closet, I find the maternity clothes I’d stashed in the back and pick something out, running my fingers along the guys’ clothes that are still hanging up as I walk in.

I slip on a pair of flared jeans, the top a band of elastic that goes nearly to my boobs when I finally get them on. Looking over myself in the full-sized mirror hanging on the back of the closet door, I shake my head at myself. They might be ugly and make me feel like a grandma, but at least they’re comfortable. Next, I grab a black stretchy sweater that I bought a little big, so it fits perfectly now.

Now the only problem I have is my socks and shoes. I can’t exactly bend to put my those on these days. I’ve been relying on Jilly to help put them on when I have to go anywhere. Otherwise, I just wear my house slippers.

The sound of a knock on the door grabs my attention, prompting me to leave the closet and lean my head out of the bedroom door.

“Come in,” I holler before ducking back in and going back to stare at my shoes like I’ll be able to magically make them appear on my stupid feet.

The sound of the front door opening and closing is at once followed by the sound of Forde’s footsteps, which gradually grows louder as he walks down the hallway.

“I’m in here,” I holler from the closet, hands on my hips as I glare down at all of my shoes.

Not one single pair I can just slip on and not leave my house looking like a little old lady. Gods.

“Hey,” I hear him say, and when I look out, he’s standing in the doorway, but not coming in.

My hand moves unconsciously to my lower back as I waddle to him when he doesn’t step inside. Once I’m in front of him, I tilt my head back so I’m looking up at him and pout.

I feel good today, and his warm whiskey scent curls around me, sending a shiver down my spine. I feel determined. I feel a sense of release and freedom after finally coming in here and allowing myself to cry.

“Why do you have to be so tall? I can’t reach you all the way down here,” I say, grinning at him playfully.

A purr rattles in his chest as his arm rests against the frame of the door, and he bends so he’s eye to eye with me.

“How’s that, Baby Doll? Better?” he teases just before I lean forward and kiss him, shocking him as he freezes, and his eyes go wide.

I laugh when I pull back and go sit on the bed.

“Come on. I can’t put my socks and shoes on by myself anymore, so help me. Please,” I say, holding my feet up and wiggling my toes at him.

He blinks a few times before clearing his throat and picking up the boots I pulled out from inside my closet. He drops them by the end of the bed, then goes to my dresser and starts digging through all the drawers for my socks. I could just tell him which drawer, but I’m enjoying watching him right now. The way his shoulders bunch and arms flex, how the white strands of his hair fall across his forehead, every little detail. I take it all in, and in my heart, I know that this is right.

After what feels like an eternity of searching, he finally locates a pair of socks, and he approaches me with them, dropping to his knees at the foot of the bed. Delicately, he slips my socks onto my feet, his fingers tickling against the sensitive skin there and making me squirm. Once they’re on, he carefully tugs my boots on for me and looks up at me from his spot on the floor.

“You kissed me,” he says, so many questions shining in his violet eyes.

“Yep,” I say, grinning down at him.

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