Page 28 of Citius

“Did he bring up your accident?” she asked, placing the leftovers in the fridge and pausing with her hand on the door. “Or the last time you talked?”

“No. Which is for the best.”

Kelsey turned and made eye contact, tugging on the antique gold locket around her neck, waiting in vain for me to elaborate, an adorable crinkle forming between her brows when she realized I had nothing to add.

“And…anything else?”

I knew what she was trying to ask. Did I notice his pheromones? Of course not. At least my anosmia wasn’t to blame, given the constant influx of scent-canceling sprays inside the plane and airport. I shook my head.

“What, not going to rhapsodize about his blue, blue eyes?” she asked with a playful grin.

Kelsey had a point. Even if Wyatt no longer felt familiar, his looks hadn’t changed.

Stupidly handsome, short for an alpha, tall for a gymnast, as densely muscled as ever. With a face so symmetrical and striking, the national gymnastics team still used Wyatt’s likeness on promotional materials.

And those piercing eyes, combined with inky black hair, a potent combination that elevated him to gymnastics heartthrob.

Stunning, yes, but not enough for me to pretend our past didn’t matter.

“If you’re asking if he still meets Jacobi’s aesthetic standards,” I said, picking at a staple, “the answer is yes. But I’m not interested.”

“That’s a relief.” Kelsey moved toward the sink. “Jacobi’s already suffering because of our lack of neighbor updates. Having to revoke someone’s certificate of attractiveness might just put him over the edge.”

“He’ll survive.”

“Yeah—but whoever moved in next door keeps even weirder hours than I do. I still haven’t seen anyone. Only caught a few lingering scents near the elevator.”

“How many?”

“Not sure. There’s two alphas. A peppery one that leaves later in the morning, closer to when I get up, and a tea-like one that seems to work late a lot. I think they have a beta who smells like orange juice. But forthe past few days, I’ve caught whiffs of someone who almost smells like…” She grimaced. “Like rotting compost. I hope they’re just visiting.”

“At least Owen and friends seem to be gainfully employed—and more importantly, quiet.”

“Sure, that’s all well and good for us, but it won’t satisfy Jacobi.” She rinsed off our dishes and added them to the dishwasher, sending me the occasional probing glance, hesitating a beat too long before reaching for the next plate or piece of cutlery.

“I’m alright.”

“I know, it’s just…” She dried her hands on a dishtowel embroidered with autumnal mushrooms and fat hedgehogs. Quirky dishtowels were one of the few pops of personality she allowed herself in our shared living spaces. “The first meeting was always going to be hard. While unexpected, I’m glad it’s out of the way. Now you can focus on work, keeping the team healthy, right?”

“Not exactly. We didn’t—didn’t part on the best of terms.” I folded my arms on the island, trying to hide my clawlike fingers, contorted by my lingering impulse to lash out. “He overreacted, thinking a few alphas were heading for me. And before you bust out the logical arguments, yes, I know he was trying to be helpful, but it’s still… I wasn’t ready to run into Wyatt yet. Or having to deal with my one-sided baggage.”

Kelsey fussed with her locket again, her gaze cheating over my shoulder to the cabinet where she kept a hard copy of my medical record. Proof that she cared more about my health than I did most of the time.

She was my healthcare proxy for a reason. I trusted her. Relied on her.

There had been plenty of times when Kelsey had been well within her rights to insist I reconnect with my therapist. But I’d been fine since the start of my second year of residency, capable of regulating my emotions and avoiding triggers by using calming tactics. I’d proven I could handle things on my own. My reaction to Wyatt didn’t warrant an automatic therapy appointment.

“It was one conversation, Kels. I’m not going to backslide. Not over this.”

Kelsey looked at me for a long moment, unconvinced by my current reassurances. I didn’t blame her. She’d seen me at my worst far too many times.

“You’ll let me know if anything changes. Right?”

“I always do,” I promised—and meant it. I could never lie to Kelsey. At least I tried my best not to.

Assuaged for the time being, Kelsey headed off to pack up the latestround of Beaufeather’s orders. The holiday rush was coming. Her days would only get longer, and our dining table would grow crowded with shipping boxes.

Easing her concerns had done nothing for the restless irritation scratching at my innards. While I might not need a therapy session, I still needed time to process the reintroduction of Wyatt into my life. Breathing exercises were not going to cut it.

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