Page 77 of Citius

“I think a new resident might be having an issue with pheromone management.”

“A new resident?” Ethan’s pause was brief but pointed, making me feel even worse about glossing things over. “Orthatnew resident?”

I buried my face against the steering wheel, resisting the urge to groan. “Yeah, it’s him. Bumped into him on campus a few times, and from how some students reacted… He knows it’s an issue. I’ll talk to him.”

How the hell was I supposed to break the news to Wyatt that his pheromones were offending the neighbors? It’d crush him. He already had enough insecurities about having a divisive pheromone signature—boxwoods weren’t everyone’s cup of tea—and the last thing I wanted was to make him feel self-conscious in what was supposed to be a safe space, his home, no matter how temporary.

“Not saying you’re wrong,” Ethan countered gently, “but the gym ventilation system is top of the line. Nothing’s supposed to linger for more than a few minutes. We’re talking about a stench that lingers for up to thirty. That can’t be blamed on just one guy… Unless he’s in a bad way.”

“A prescription-strength scent-blocker should solve the problem.” My response was purposefully vague. Wyatt’s pheromones were off-limits for discussion, no matter who brought them up—Kelsey, Jacobi, but especially Ethan.

“Wonder if the kid’s still scared of me.”

“He’s thirty-one.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Ethan let out a dry laugh. “He’s still a punk kid as far as I’m concerned.”

“Ethan, honestly…”

“Do you blame me?”

I studied the distant outline of Wyatt’s bashful face. “No, of course not. It’s not… Not about that.”

“That first year was brutal. None of us handled it well. Certainly not me. The only person who didn’t fuck up was Kelsey.”

The sun dipped lower, illuminating the water beyond the riverfront dormitories with a hazy orange glow. I needed to leave soon, or I’d be stuck navigating bridge traffic at dusk—my least favorite time to drive, even before the accident.

Now, with my depth perception skewed and headlights turned into headache-inducing sensory weapons, it was downright unbearable. Anddangerous.

“So, you’re asking me to—to what? Forget even more than I already have?”

“No, but you should hear him out. You owe it to yourself.”

I dropped my aching skull against the headrest, closing my eyes as I forced two deep, centering breaths. “Can we go back to talking about property taxes?”

“Fine, fine, I’ll shut up now. But you better talk to him about the stench fast, or I’ll do it myself.”

“Okay. Tell the guys I say hi.”

“Will do—drive safe. Love you, sis.”

“Love you, too.”

As I pulled out of the parking lot, I decided to ask Kelsey if she had any ideas. At the very least, she could be my surrogate nose.

She wouldn’t be offended if I asked her to sniff around the gym downstairs. Over the years, I’d asked her to smell plenty of weird things for me.

But my almost-boyfriend’s decaying pheromone signature? That was a new low, even for me.

***

By the end of my morning workout, I was no closer to figuring out how to approach Wyatt. Kelsey couldn’t think of anything that didn’t involve honesty. I wasn’t in the mood for that.

My singular bright idea? Arranging for Wyatt and Cal to cross paths. Surely, the honorable pheromone wizard would swoop in and save Wyatt from his problematic scent.

There was just one teensy hiccup in my plan. How was I supposed to orchestrate a meeting between two men I wasn’t exactly on speaking terms with?

Once my morning routine was finished, it was time to head to the sports medicine clinic. I gave Kip a final belly rub on the kitchen island and waved goodbye to Tenny, snoozing on the cat tree in the far corner of the living room.

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