Page 36 of Full Body Hit: Part 2
It was just his mom.
Chase couldn’t help but watch her as they stepped over the threshold and into Chase’s home. Because that was what it had become—home. Something his. A place he felt safe.
His mom’s eyes cut through the space. Chase looked around too, seeing everything from her perspective—the pillows and blankets piled on the couch. The stained-glass lights. The softart on the wall. The little figurines. The vase with flowers. The diffuser loaded with a light, pleasant scent.
Chase’s cheeks flamed. It was all so…
Omega.
“Sorry,” Chase whispered, hurrying to the couch and grabbing as many blankets and pillows as he could.
His knees suddenly felt weak with relief as he saw that the door to his actual nest was shut.
He didn’t have a guest room, so he just stuffed everything in his closet before hurrying out. “Um, you can put your bag in my room? I can sleep on the couch.”
His mom hummed, patting him on the head as she passed.
He relaxed a little. That little touch was as affectionate as she got.
Maybe she wasn’t mad about his apartment.
Chase hovered in the doorway. “Are you hungry? Do you want dinner?” It was late, but it was likely his mother hadn’t eaten yet.
“Sure. Let’s order something, though. Don’t want you burning the apartment down,” she joked.
Chase nodded and took his phone out. He’d actually gotten pretty good at making a few recipes, but he wasn’t going to argue with his mom. “What are you in the mood for?”
Chase’s mom sighed—a noise Chase was very familiar with. “Honey, I’ve just travelled all the way here…surely you can decide for yourself.”
“Yeah, sorry.” Why was he so stupid when he was with his mom? It was as if he suddenly became incompetent at every little thing.
They retreated to the living room as Chase ordered them quinoa salads. He’d usually get something more filling to recover from a game, but he knew his mom preferred lighter stuff.
His mom sat on the couch, balancing on the edge of the cushion, spine straight. “Did this place come already furnished?”
“Um. No. Sammy helped me decorate.”
“Oh. The Omega.” His mom laughed. “Really, Chase…you’re a little old for peer pressure.”
It was my idea. These are the things I like.
The words got stuck in his throat. “Yeah,” he croaked instead, disgust coating the back of his throat for throwing Sammy under the bus.
“Sit. I filmed some of the game—shame you couldn’t pull it together the one time I’m here.”
Chase had a strange, fleeting impulse to…resist. To sayno. To tell her that he hadn’t even known she was there—shehadn’t told him.
That he was tired and hungry and just wanted to—
He sat next to his mom, body sinking into the cushions, bones so heavy they were creaking.
His mom took her tablet out. He must have spaced out because there was a knock on the door—he could have sworn he’d only just called for the food.
“Sorry,” he excused himself as he went to get it.
He opened the door and then just stood there for a moment, staring at Sammy and Noah.
“Oh, hi.”
