I take Adam's hand.
The omega leads me around the table to the glass-paneled back door on the far side of the dining room. He pushes it open, and the warm evening air spills in around us as we step onto the deck together.
I stop at the top of the steps and just look.
The backyard is beautiful in the evening light.
The lawn is so green it almost doesn't look real, Adam's careful, patient work showing in every even stripe and trimmed edge. The hydrangeas along the fence line are heavy with blooms, white and pale blue, catching the last of the setting sun.
Beyond the fence, a running path curves through the neighborhood in a lazy arc, winding past a small park and a pond that sits perfectly still. Its surface reflecting the pink and gold of the sky above it. Mature trees dot the path at intervals, their shadows stretch long and thin across the grass.
Further off, the neighboring houses sit back from their own lawns, warm light beginning to appear in windows as the evening settles in. They’re close enough to see, but far enough that the backyard almost feels private. Tucked in.
Adam steps off the deck and onto the lawn, pulling me with him. The grass is cool and dense against the soles of my feet. Each blade presses up between my toes, and I curl them, feeling the soft earth.
"I like to come out here in the evening," Adam says, looking out toward the pond. "When the weather's good. I sit here and watch the day go."
"I can see why." I close my eyes, inhaling deeply as a breeze moves through the yard.
The smell of cut grass and something impossibly sweet fills my lungs. I turn my head slightly toward it, realizing the sweeter thing is Adam. His omega scent, still new and bright and not yet fully settled, drifts toward me like something freshly opened.
He smells as lovely as he looks.
I open my eyes and turn to tell him that, but stop when I realize Adam is looking right at me.
"Can I ask you something personal?" he says.
"Of course." I lean a little closer.
Adam is quiet for a moment, like he's deciding how to phrase it. "What does it feel like?" he asks. "Having a bond with someone." He glances at me sideways. "With Cliff."
"Oh."
Guilt immediately hits me.
Adam still doesn't have a bond with Raff, but there’s no way I can refuse to answer. It would only upset him more.
"It's like." I lick my lips, trying to pick the right words. "You know when you walk into a room and you can feel if someone is in a good mood or a bad one before they've said a single word?" I look up at the omega. "It's like that, but from the inside. Like having a second heartbeat that isn't yours. Sometimes it's just a hum, something low and steady that tells you your mate is close and okay. And sometimes it'slouder than that. Like right now." I press my hand to my chest as something warm pulses in my bond and the corners of my mouth lift. "Cliff felt me laughing in there and it came back through our bond, and I felt him smile from two rooms away."
Adam has gone very still beside me, his hands in his pockets. "That sounds beautiful," he says.
"It is," I whisper, not sure what else to say.
Adam leans down and plucks a single blade of grass from the lawn. He slips it slowly between his fingers, not looking at it, giving his hands something to do.
"Sometimes I think I feel something," he finally says. "Like a flicker. Right here." He presses two fingers against the center of his chest, right below his sternum. "But then it's gone, and I can't tell if it was real or if I—" He stops. "I want to feel him so badly that I think my mind is playing tricks on me." His voice doesn’t crack as he says it. It’s just a sad fact that he can’t control.
I press a little closer to his side.
"I keep thinking,” he looks down at me, “what if my body is too wrecked to actually form one?" His voice drops lower, like he’s worried someone might overhear. "My scent glands are underdeveloped and my hormones are out of whack. Hell, I even slept through my first heat." He lets out a short, weak laugh. "What if I'm too broken for a bond to work properly?"
"The doctor said it would take time," I say, trying to be optimistic. "And your heat was incredibly overwhelming just to witness. I can only imagine how hard it was to feel."
I reach down and take his hand in mine.
He's so warm, his fingers wrapping loosely around mine without thinking about it. His hand is bigger than I expectevery time, the knuckles prominent, the skin slightly rough from years of working out.
"Your bond could still form," I say, squeezing Adam’s hand. "Don't give up hope yet."
