Charlie
We’re not supposedto touch the omegas.
No hugging or snuggling. No holding hands or sitting too close. Hell, we’re not even supposed to talk to them outside of treatments. But there’s something about Autry that makes me want to throw my whole life away for a chance to catch the slightest hint of her delicate aroma. She smells like lemon zest and something sweeter underneath, warm and soft and so completely her.
She’s like an iced cookie. Drizzled and sweet. Meant to be savored.
“How’s it feel?” I ask, tossing the paper sheet and the broken cast into the bin.
Autry slides her fingernails up and down her newly bare forearm. Her small shoulders shiver, and she lets out a breathy little sigh. “Weird.” She giggles softly. But her smile doesn't reach her eyes.
I want to believe it’s because she doesn’t want to leaveme, but I’m not an idiot.
She’s perfect—hazel eyes filled with wonder, plush lips, and a kindness that radiates like the sun. And me? I’m nothing special—a shorter-than average beta with a clipboard and a pulse.
Still, I can't stop looking at her.
“This isn’t very attractive.” Autry frowns, looking at the small scar along her mended wrist.
Before I can stop myself, I reach out and trace the edge of the scar with my thumb. Her skin is warm and soft. My hand slides around her arm, holding it—not too tightly. Just enough to ground her. To remind her that she’s not alone.
“It’ll fade a bit with time,” I say, voice low. “At least it’s small.”
Autry sighs, making it clear she’s not happy no matter what size it is. “I’ve never had a scar before.” She stares at it. “Alphas don’t like scars.” The corners of her pink lips pull downward. I want so damn badly to kiss them better.
I arch a brow and lean in slightly to catch her gaze. “That’s not true.”
Her eyes narrow, skeptical.
“That’s not true,” I say, looking into her eyes. “Alphas love scars. They tell the world you're a badass. That you’re tougher than whatever tried to take you down.” Her lips twitch, like she wants to smile but isn’t sure if she’s allowed.
So I go all in.
“Look,” I say, lifting the hem of my scrub top. I hook my thumb into the waistband and drag it down an inch, revealing the faded scar that curls along my hipbone. “Got this wrestling a feral alpha in the back hall when I was eighteen.”
“Oh my.” Autry leans forward, bringing her face close to my waist. Her breath fans across my skin, and mymember twitches.Maybe this wasn’t a great idea.“Is that true?”
“No,” I snort. “I fell out of a tree when I was five. I cried so hard I threw up.”
A smile brightens Autry’s face, and she tips her head back, laughing. “That’s so sad.”
“It is, but at least I survived.” I’m smiling like a fool. “But tell me the truth.” Autry leans in, listening carefully. “When you thought I got it in a fight, was it hot?”
Her nose scrunches as she laughs. “Yeah. It was hot.”
My grin widens. “Then maybe your scar is hot, too.”
She looks at her wrist again. This time, her expression is different—thoughtful. Like maybe, just maybe, she believes me.
I drop my shirt, let her wrist go slowly—reluctantly—and step back to give her space, even though every instinct is screaming at me to stay close. Totouch more. To pull her in and hold her until the sadness fades from her eyes completely.
But I don’t.
Because she deserves to be chosen—freely, lovingly. Not because I was the only one nearby who made her feel seen.
“You’re stronger than you think, Autry,” I say softly.
She looks up at me.
