Page 49 of Thorns That Bloom
I don’t understand why he looks at me the way he does. Cautiously. Pensively. There’s so much happening behind his eyes that I’m not privy to.
Did he expect me never to talk to him again? Did he want that?
“You’re back already?” he asks, brows high.
I lean against the table, not too close, to leave his personal bubble intact. “Yeah. You know, alphas heal quickly.” As I speak, I subtly lower my gaze. Oh, he’s filling up beautifully. It suits him more than I’d like to admit. And there’s such a lovely glow on his face… I wonder how far along he is now.
“I suppose that’s true,” he says softly, tilting his head to the side. His attention shifts down to my left hand. “At least the injury wasn’t too serious, then? I’m glad. Being off work sucks.”
I nod and hope I read his unspoken interest correctly as I step closer, showing him the digit. To my surprise, Sam wheels himself toward me. The moment he gets a hold of my finger to keep my hand still, I swear my heart nearly leaps into my throat.
Fuck…is this the first time we’ve actually touched skin to skin?
Don’t panic. Don’t panic.My soul tingles and vibrates underneath it. My stomach turns, but not like I want to throw up—it somersaults in the best way possible at the sense of rightness his touch brings. I can barely handle it; can barely contain myself.
“That’s a lot of stitches. I’m surprised you didn’t pass out. And glad I didn’t get to see the injury when…” As he pauses and flares his nostrils, everything inside me tightens again. My pheromones.Shit. I need to control them. Need to shove that crap back in quickly. I shift on my feet nervously while Sam’s eyes dart up, barely meeting mine, and down again. “When, um, it was fresh.”
He slowly releases my hand and leans back in the chair, putting one hand over his belly. He does that when he’s nervous, I’ve figured out. I don’t want to make him nervous, so I nod awkwardly and step away, giving him more space again.
Sam clears his throat before speaking. “If I’d known you were back already, I would’ve come to check up on…how you’re doing.” It almost looks like he’s surprised by the words coming out of his own mouth.
When I hear it—that he was planning to go out of his way to find out how I was—it makes my entire body buzz with restless, manic energy.
He isn’t making this self-control thing easy for me.
“Today’s my first day back,” I assure him with a smile. He seems a bit worried. The longer I stand here, the thinner his mask, and the more of the real him I can see. “I was hoping to see you at lunch, but you weren’t there. Are you— Is everything okay? Are you feeling well? And the baby?”
His eyes widen briefly. Then he escapes my gaze and swallows, the ball in the middle of his throat bobbing underneath his skin in a way that makes me want to touch it.
“Baby and I are fine. Everything’s going as it should developmentally. Thanks for asking.” A smile flashes over his lips, but it’s shaky and half-hearted. What’s worrying him? “As for the cafeteria, I don’t think I’ll be…going there anymore. For now, anyway. I…yeah. Not because of you.”
The heaviness dragging that beautiful voice of his down nearly propels me forward. I take two steps toward him before I stop myself. He finally meets my concerned gaze. “Did something happen? Did someone do something?”
Sam blinks, shaking his head without breaking eye contact.
“What is it, Sam?”
Whatever it is, it sends fear through him. Fear I see right before he faces away again, anxiously shifting in his seat and resting his other arm on his stomach, too.
The room fills with silence. I don’t know if it’s the kind that says I shouldn’t push further, or the one I need to let brew to allow him to open up.
“It’s nothing, just… They changed the cleaning product they use there. You know, wipe the floors with and stuff.”Right. I guess it smelled a little different. I figured it was simply me forgetting after so long of being away. “The scent is…it’s similar to…” With every agonizing pause, I wonder if I should tell him to stop talking. My stomach churns painfully. “Similar to the cleaner they used in the restroom at my old company. It, um,” swallowing hard, Sam puffs air out of his nose, clearly struggling to keep his voice firm, “brings back memories. Makes me anxious to be there, so I’ve been bringing food with me and usually eat it here.”
I feel like molten iron is being poured over my entire body.
Clenching my jaw until my teeth hurt, I straighten my back. Sam’s eyes find me, and the way he looks like he’s ashamed for bringing it up, or worried about my reaction, makes the pain a hundred times worse.
“It’s not your fault that it triggers you, it— Surely, we could talk to someone about it. It can’t be much of a problem for them to change the cleaning product to what it was.”
“No,” he says firmly. “That’s ridiculous. This is my issue. I don’t want to cause trouble when it’s not necessary.”
“It’s not causing trouble to ask for accommoda—” Seeing his fiery glare, I swallow my words. I see. This is about his pride. He doesn’t want to be seen as a victim. “It’s your choice. Whatever you want to do. I just don’t want you to go hungry.”
Sam runs his hand over his forehead, disturbing the lovely curls falling around his face. I wonder what his hair feels like. It looks soft.
“I’m not. Believe me. I might… I’ll work on it, on getting over the discomfort. It’s just that right now, it’s not my priority. My therapist says I should choose my battles, so that’s what I’m doing.”
“That makes sense,” I say, putting my hand into the pocket of my bomber jacket. When I do, I hear a faint crinkling, and it hits me that I completely forgot about the gift I brought. “Oh!” I blurt, pulling it out. “Here.”
