Page 24 of Lavender and Lightning

Closing the distance between us, I put my hands on the counter on either side of her hips. She tilts her head up to look in my face, and I have to stop myself from leaning in. I’ve been doing that a lot lately, stopping myself from acting on the more-than-friendly feelings in my chest, but I want our first kiss to be perfect. Certainly not when she looks liable to burst into tears at any moment.

“We can smash more plates if that’ll make you feel better. Lex has been trying to find an excuse to replace the set for a while now,” I offer with a smirk.

Lydia rolls her eyes again, but doesn’t respond. I turn my lips up into a softer smile, tilting my head to the side. She shifts from one foot to the other, huffing out a sigh. Maybe I don’t have to say anything. If I just wait long enough—

“If you have something to say, just spit it out. Staring is rude,” she snaps after another few heartbeats of silence.

There it is. Lydia and Lex are both like this. Combine silence, direct eye contact, and no means of escape, and they’ll both open up under pressure. I don’t like how close this feels to manipulation, but I’d rather get to the bottom of what’s bothering her so we can fix it. It’s my nature to want to help, to smooth ruffled feathers. And Lydia’s one puffed-up little sparrow right now.

“Should I have something to say?” I ask neutrally.

“I don’t know. It feels like you’re going to lecture me or something,” Lydia retorts, her voice losing some of its heat.

I take the smallest step forward, so close I can detect traces of scent blocking laundry detergent on her clothes. Where did that come from?

“Why’s that?” I press, slowly bringing one of my hands to brush soothing lines up and down her good arm.

“You keep staring and it’s an ‘I’m not mad, I’m disappointed’ look. So just stop stalling and say what you’re going to.” She wraps her free arm around her stomach, intentionally leaning away from my touch.

She clearly hasn’t been on the receiving end of Rhett’s ‘not mad, only disappointed’ stare if she thinks my bland one is bad. I’ve only gotten it a few times, and I’d be willing to bet Lydia would fold like a cheap suit if it was directed at her.

“I’m curious about what you think I’m not-mad-but-disappointed about and why I’d be about to lecture you,” I say, trying to keep my voice even.

“I broke a plate trying to make a sandwich, Lucas! I can’t even do that without destruction. I’m so fucking—”

“If you say ‘useless,’ or anything of the sort, you might get that lecture after all,” I growl, anger flaring for a moment in my chest.

Her mouth snaps shut as I cut across her, and her guilty little frown confirms my suspicions. She’s lashing out because she’s mad, not at me, but at herself.

“Lydia, you know that none of us thinks that about you, right?” I ask, softening my face and voice.

“You should. I can’t even piss without someone outside to make sure I don’t hurt myself. Y’all shouldn’t have to babysit me. I’m an adult, for fuck’s sake,” Lydia spits, her words starting strong but trailing off until her lip trembles and she sucks in a sharp breath.

I press closer, closing my arms around her and pulling her to my chest. I try to be mindful of her arm, but my desire to hold her close is hard to ignore. She rests her forehead on the middle of my chest, and I feel her taking deep, long breaths.

“This isn’t about the sandwich, is it?” I ask gently, hoping she won’t shut down on me. My touch is light, rubbing her back in soothing motions.

She hesitates, but then shakes her head. “Jason called. I told him… told him about me and Rhett and Mateo.”

My heart clenches, and I hold her a little tighter, pressing my lips and nose into her hair. Her fingers find a hole in my shirt, and she circles it idly, so slowly that I’m not sure she even knows how close to my nipple she’s touching. I don’t mind, but it’s a distraction I could do without right now. So I take her hand and hold it tight between us. While I don’t know exactly what she’s going through with her brother, I know what it’s like to be on the receiving end of family disapproval and disappointment. But with Lydia being an omega, I would have expected her brother to be a little more understanding of Lydia’s desire for multiple partners. While it’s not the norm, it certainly isn’t unheard of.

“And then there’s my nest,” Lydia starts, breaking off with a sniffle.

“Still haven’t gotten it settled, have you?” I ask, voicing my thoughts.

Lydia shakes her head again, but doesn’t speak. Knowing that her nest is still incomplete explains so much of her behavior. The restlessness. The irritability. Omegas need the stability of a nest, the comfort and security of a dedicated space, and without it, Lydia’s instincts must be going nuts.

“Did your boxes not get delivered today?” I prompt, trying to keep my tone light.

“Yeah. But everything smells… wrong.”

I roll my eyes and swallow a frustrated huff. This, at least, explains where the plastic-y scent blocking detergent smell came from. Lex had mentioned that she was going to have Lydia’s things washed after she got them back from the forensics lab, but I’d warned her against it. Yes, there would be strange scents on them, but hopefully they would be treated with enough care as to avoid removing the deep scent layers omegas need. I don’t understand the science exactly, but the pheromones omegas imbue into their nests are important to maintaining their health, and disrupting that could lead to hormone imbalances, and even serious bouts of anxiety and depression.

It seems that my advice was ignored, and now Lydia is suffering the consequences. I’ll have to have a less friendly discussion with Lex later.

“Let’s go find some stuff that’ll make it right, then.”

Lydia pulls away as I speak, looking up at me with furrowed brows. “But my stuff…”

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