Spencer’s mom finally came in about an hour later, an empty tall can in hand, along with the smell of fresh smoke. Spencer smiled at her as he rose from the couch. “I think I’m gonna head out.”
“All right.” His mom leaned against the wall and peered around her little cottage. “But itisnice, right?”
“So nice.” Spencer walked over and leaned down to kiss her on the cheek, grinning when she scent marked his neck in return. She smelled like violets under the menthols, familiar pheromones that were softer than Spencer had scented in a long time. “You should text me back more.”
She shrugged. “I thought you were just making noise.”
Maybe a week ago Spencer would have let that comment slide. But he’d been holding in his emotions more than he ever had lately, and all it had done was make them harder to bear. He met his mom’s gaze squarely. “I’m texting you because I love you.”
His mom grimaced, even as her lips curled up at the corners. “Charmer. I’ll try to remember.”
That was good enough. Spencer swept another kiss on her cheek and headed out the door, but she stopped him before he reached the bottom step of the porch. She looked small and fierce and beautiful framed in her small doorway.
“Hey. If youdoend up with nothing, you can always stay here. The couch pulls out, you know.”
Spencer gave her a salute. “I’ll keep it in mind, Mumsie.”
22
RYDER
Ryder pulled out from under the Subaru he was working on to find Damon waiting for him, tattooed arms crossed and bulging.
“What’s the scowl for?” Ryder asked.
“Why’s the hellion so pissed?” Damon countered. “Is this a new omega thing? I tried to get a puzzle from him, and he fucking snarled at me.”
Ryder glanced toward the garage’s office. The shades were pulled down, so he couldn’t see inside, but he could imagine well enough Ash’s angry pacing and pissy face. “Boyfriend troubles.”
Damon cocked a brow. “Aren’tyouthe boyfriend?”
Ryder stood up and stretched his back before answering, “One of them.” When Damon didn’t say anything to that, Ryder cocked his own brow back at him. “Problem?”
Damon smirked, holding his hands up in an imitation of surrender. “No problem. Not my personal style—too possessive for that—but you do you.”
Ryder nodded. Not that he needed anyone’s permission, boss or no. “You mind if I take my fifteen?”
“Go for it.”
Ryder headed to the office. He stood at the door for a moment, noting the bitter char of burned marshmallow that seeped through the cracks, no caramel sweetness to be found.
Ash had been a mess since yesterday, when Spencer had failed to come back or answer their calls. They knew he was safe—Noah had texted last night to let them know Spencer was back with him and Chase—but he wasn’t reaching out. Ash kept threatening to storm Spencer’s house and force a confrontation, but Ryder was holding him off.
It wasn’t that Ryder wasn’t aching to see Spencer—aching to see him, hold him, and get things fuckingsettled—but he needed Spencer to be ready. No amount of love or reassurance was going to be enough if Spencer kept batting it all away, refusing to acknowledge its existence. Ryder knew he and Ash had maybe been too subtle, but they hadn’t beenthatsubtle.
None of that stopped Ryder from texting a few more times, his last one a terse,
We know you’re safe. Come when you’re ready.
But that was neither here nor fucking there. If Spencer needed the comfort of his roommates before seeing Ryder and Ash, they owed that to him.
Ryder entered the office. He’d been wrong. Ash wasn’t angrily pacing anymore. He was sitting in Damon’s office chair, slumped and dejected.
Ryder shut the door behind him, but Ash didn’t glance his way, too busy making woeful faces at his own hands. “I fucked everything up,” he mumbled woodenly.
“You didn’t. It’s a hiccup. Or maybe a growing pain.”
They were silent for a moment, and then Ash met Ryder’s gaze, his amber eyes red-rimmed and glassy. “Why aren’t you pissed at me?”
