“Please,” he drawls. “You look at her like she’s the fucking sun. It’s probably because she laughs at every dumb joke you make, but still. You’re just as bad as me, Alex—worse, even. At least I admit it.”
I grin without missing a beat. “Oh, I admit it. I’m head over heels for that tiny blonde. I’d rip out my left nut with my bare hands if she asked me to.”
Dakota’s mouth drops open, half disgusted, half exasperated. “What the hell, man? Why are you giving me shit, then?”
“Don’t know.” I shrug. “I’m bored. Why can’t we go inside?”
Dakota stares at me for a long minute, before scrubbing his face with both hands. “Because,” he says finally, “I wanted to give Skyla some privacy to talk to her mom.”
That takes a little of the wind out of my sails. I lean back against the workbench, tapping my fingers against the edge. “Ah.”
Dakota shrugs, still fiddling with a stray weight like it suddenly got interesting. “Skyla’s been a little sensitive this morning.” He hesitates, glancing toward the house, his voice dropping. “Can you…feelher?”
“Kind of,” I admit with a grimace. “It’s really faint, though. It doesn't really surprise me,” I add. “It’s only been a little over twenty-four hours since we marked her. Her bond with Knox took a fewdaysto form.”
Dakota shifts his weight, chewing his lip. “Could you maybe…concentrate on your bond or whatever? Just to see if she’s okay?” He gives me those big, puppy dog eyes, like there’s a chance I’ll say no.
“Give me a minute.” I squeeze my eyes shut for a second, tuning in to the quiet hum at the back of my mind where my bond with Skyla sits. Our bond is still new—onlya day or so old—thin and growing stronger bit by bit, kind of like a radio signal still finding its frequency.
But there’s nothing sharp or panicked coming from her, only a dull ache pulsing under my ribs. Faint, but steady. It could be her. It could be me. Hard to tell.
She’s probably fine. Just…talking to her mom. Omegas get emotional about that kind of stuff, right?
Dakota exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “It could be my imagination,” he admits. “But she’s been off today. I figured maybe she’s working through something. Maybe processing her feelings about being newly mated, or shit like that. I’m sure another omega is just easier to talk to.”
I nod, chest tight but trying not to show it. “Yeah. You’re right.”
The silence stretches, too long, too heavy. I can’t stop bouncing my leg, heel thudding against the concrete. My skin feels too tight for my body.
She’s fine. I keep telling myself that. Just talking. Maybe crying a little. Normal omega stuff.
But the longer I sit here, the itchier I feel—like there’s something I’m supposed to be doing, some switch in my head flipping back and forth betweengo check on herandleave her the hell alone.
Dakota picks up a dumbbell and starts wiping it down again, pretending to be focused. He’s not fooling me. He’s worried too, even if he’s too polite to say it.
I rub a hand over the back of my neck, exhaling through my nose. The garage suddenly feels too small. Too still.
“Fuck it,” I mutter, reaching for my phone in my pocket, desperate for a distraction—music, news, anything to keep me from marching inside like a crazy person. But my fingers meet empty fabric. I check the other pocket, patting my whole waistband. Nothing.
“Shit.”
Dakota looks up. “What?”
“I left my phone inside.” I pat my pockets again to be sure. Still empty. “You mind if I run in real quick and grab it?”
He narrows his eyes immediately. “I can see right through that trick, man. You just wanna bug Sky.”
I throw up my hands. “I swear, it’s not a trick. I’m not gonna say a word to her. I forgot it on the counter.”
“What could you possibly need it for?” he shoots back.
“What if there’s an emergency or something?”
Dakota snorts. “Avoiding boredom doesn’t count as an emergency.”
I glare at him, half amused. “You’re way too cocky for someone who didn’t know how to use the dryer until, what, two months ago?”
He grins, unfazed. “Yeah, well, look at me now. Domestic as hell.”
