Page 83 of Citius

“It’s impressive that you remembered so much.”

“All of it,” Wyatt murmured, his gaze still fixed on the shadow-strewn ground. “I remember… Morgan, I never meant—”

“I know.” My voice was steady as I cut him off. We weren’t doing this. Not after ten years. And certainly not here, on campus, in the open air where anyone might overhear. “As my brother recently reminded me, the accident… We were all just trying our best.”

He looked up, his eyes extra piercing when contrasted against his furrowed black brows. “Which brother?”

“That one.”

“Huh.” Wyatt stepped back, his hands settling on his hips as he gazed over the darkening water, teeth digging into his bottom lip. “So that’s his excuse?”

“Not making excuses for him. Even if he was acting on somemisguided urge to protect his sister, it was a shitty thing to do. Really shitty.” I straightened my glasses, hesitating as I weighed whether to add what my inner omega had been dying to say for years. “There’s nothing wrong with your height.”

Wyatt let out a bitter laugh. “You don’t mean that.”

“Not everyone wants to strain their neck whenever they look their partner in the eye.”

“Unless they’re Cal Carling,” he shot back, his tone sharp and snide, catching me off guard.

White hot anger used my ribs for kindling. Cal had nothing to do with our mess—and even if he did, Wyatt was in no position to complain about it.

“Excuse me?”

“His pheromones were in the hallway last week, Morgan. And a few weeks before that. I’m not stupid.”

“No, you’re not stupid,” I said, “but that doesn’t mean you’re right either.”

“Oh, really?” Wyatt challenged. His gaze locked with mine. “So, he’s not interested in you?”

Digging my thumbnail into the side of my pointer finger, I redirected my growing irritation into that tiny prick of pain rather than exploding at the larger, more obstinate prick standing before me.

“I’d like to keep my fellowship, thanks.”

He waved off my reasoning. “Mm, no, that’s not—”

“Since you know Cal, that’ll make this next part less awkward,” I interrupted, crossing my arms. “You need to talk to someone about your pheromones. If you’re comfortable seeing Cal, I can get you an appointment next week. And before this goes any further, let me be clear—I’m saying this as a building owner. Tolliver Yards has gotten feedback about a strong scent in the gym and elevator.”

My words had the effect I’d been dreading.

Wyatt’s shoulders fell, curling in on himself as if he’d just taken an uppercut to the spleen. “Fuck.”

“In the interim,” I said, forcing out the rest of my spiel, refusing to feel sorry for him, “until you figure things out, you’re free to work out at my place. I should have all the equipment you need.”

Wyatt was already shaking his head before I finished speaking. “So you and Kelsey can hide from me and my big, bad pheromones every morning? No thanks.”

“Kelsey’s already agreed,” I replied, keeping my voice as mellow as possible. “She gets up after I leave for work, and our ventilation systemis isolated and top-of-the-line. You won’t bother her.”

Wyatt ground his toe into a leaf, his voice so quiet I could barely hear him. “What about you?”

Leaning in to pick up his words, I watched his neck stiffen the closer I got and decided to have a little mercy on the guy. “I work out to sweat, not socialize. Will that be a problem?”

“No.” He exhaled, shoulders somehow drooping even further, and shook his head. “I’m the same.”

“The appointment with Cal.” I tucked a strand of hair behind my left ear, the simple movement drawing far too much notice from Wyatt. “Do you want it?”

A muscle twitched in his jaw as he debated his answer. “It can’t be you?”

Had this man been engineered in Tabitha Redmond’s lab specifically to try my patience?

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