Page 88 of Dubious Match
Forcing myself to take a step back, I close her van door.
“Thank you,” she whispers. “Katee and her baby are fine, by the way. I’m her post partum doula too, so I’ve been at her house taking care of them. Food, laundry, diapers, sleepovers, whatever they need. The baby is so sweet.”
A smile creeps over my face until it breaks free.
“Good. I’m glad they’re home,” I say. “I expect there’s a lot that comes into play when a baby is born. Is her husband helping?”
“He’s not,” she sighs. “He’s divorcing her and refuses to help. It’s okay, though. Katee is such a good mom, and her husband always made me uneasy. That’s why when he was away from home is when I’d make a home visit. It’s for the best.”
What a piece of shit.
“Are you home for a bit?” I ask, noting how tired she looks.
“Till tonight, and then I’m on night duty for at least five weeks. Tomorrow, I have clients to see. My schedule had to shift with the birth, so I’ll be working through the weekend,” she explains.
“Understandable. Try to get some rest,” I suggest, raising my hand in goodbye as she begins driving again.
Walking back to the house, I wonder what the hell could have happened in her past for her to have freaked out so badly. Our society is so damn broken, and I’m learning every day how much.
Seventeen
HOLLIS
“I need something,” I mutter as I look over my nest. It’s beautiful, don’t get me wrong. The twinkling lights are a golden yellow, and the small room has the perfect amount of illumination. Maybe it was once a closet?
Either way, the room outside of this is larger to serve as my actual bedroom, and there’s a separate closet as well. The bathroom attaches to the bedroom, and everything is done in light pinks, purples, and creams.
I’m not someone who likes loud colors, unless I’m in the mood for it. Instead, the muted colors and prints typically help to settle my already cluttered mind. Except for now. Something is missing in my nest.
Taking a deep breath to see if the scent is off, I frown. Sometimes, I find that I need to spritz some vanilla perfume in my nest or I need to light a candle to make it perfect, but that’s not it.
“Fuck,” I groan, stalking out of my nest and glaring at my bedroom in passing for good measure.
I think I hate everything today. Work has been fine, my sleep is improving, and Pack Ledger has been great to live with. There’s been snuggles and kisses, but not much else, and there’s a warm ball of heat in the pit of my stomach that tells me that won’t be enough soon.
I’m walking so quickly, I crash into a chest that smells like raspberry sorbet. Mmm Remy. My fingers clench around his sweater, and I find myself pulling it up. I can’t find it in myself to feel embarrassed, because I need this scentnow.
“Off. Gimme, Remy,” I insist. He pulls it the rest of the way off in confusion and mirth, his full lips twitching as he hands it to me.
“What’s gotten into you, Hollis? Do you need the rest of my clothes?” he asks.
“I’ll let you know,” I sniff, turning on my socked feet to walk back to my room.
I’m cozy and comfortable in my lavender leggings and gray sweater that’s off the shoulder. I only get to wear things like this when I’m at home, so it’s been nice to not have to dress to the nines. While I typically enjoy it, the forced downtime is needed after the Forever Yours event.
It’s been almost a week from the attack, and my skin only has a few patches of bruising left. Felix had some arnica cream he gave me and that helped speed things up as well. While my ribs are still sore, I’m surprised it’s not worse. My omega healing is super charged it seems, and a part of me thinks that my heat is tired of being pushed off.
Blowing out a breath, I drop to my knees in my nest and gaze at my alpha’s sweater. I’m acting crazy, but I can’t help it. I’ve read the damn books, heard stories from my clients and friends, I know I’m full blown nesting. No matter how much you preparefor something like this, it doesn’t quite change how insane your instincts make you act.
I tore this off Remy’s body. A hysterical giggle bubbles up inside of me, and I press the article of clothing against my mouth to stifle it. The action means that the next time I inhale, I get the most delicious hit of his scent. God, he smells so damn good.
Leaning forward, I ghost my fingers over the thick comforter on my nest. There are blankets folded around it, memory foam bed wedges for creating height and forts, as well as cooling blankets.
They somehow thought of everything. Lifting the blanket, I burrow the sweater so it’ll fit just where I want it. I need more. Biting my lip, I decide to strip my alphas. Yes, that’s exactly what I need to do.
Standing, I turn and leave the rooms in search of them. I’m feeling very single minded, almost in a disassociated way. It’s not a bad thing, but it makes me bolder than I’d ever think to be.
If I were to guess, this is my omega instinct’s way of stripping me of my inhibitions. There are things I need, and I’m willing to do anything for my peace. Passing by the bedrooms, I muse that I could just go through their laundry for what I want, but it’s not enough. I need something that still has the warmth of their bodies.
