Page 73 of Sour Notes

This isn’t the concerned boyfriend act, he’s really seeing me.

My eyes burn, my throat swelling with emotion, but when I open my mouth to respond, nothing comes out.

Crap, no.

Swayze’s face swims and blurs as tears flood my eyes. He lets out a strangled noise, pulling me into his chest, his big palm running up and down my back.

Instantly, his warm, woody scent surrounds me, and I bury my nose in his chest, just breathing him in. I have no clue what magic pheromones this man has, but my muscles start to unlock as I snuggle in closer. My frustration slowly ebbs away, his presence a balm to my soul.

Needing more contact, I sneak my fingers under his shirt to graze his warm skin, and a sense of calm washes over me for the first time in weeks.

“What the fuck was Nick thinking? That asshole shouldn’t be here.” Swayze’s tense murmur has me rearing back in his arms to stare up at him, that flash of calm instantly evaporating.

His eyes burn with silver fury, his body practically vibrating. He’s a formidable presence, broad shoulders squared, jaw clenched tight, and those molten eyes still locked on Pete.

The second his grip on me loosens, I fly into panic mode because I sure as shit don’t need him making a scene here.

“He doesn’t know. Don’t say anything, Swayze. Just leave it, please.” Standing on tiptoes, I cup his face in my hands, tugging until his gaze meets mine. “Please, Swayze. Let me handle it.”

His eyes scan mine, instantly softening, and he sucks in a deep breath, nodding tightly as Nick's voice calls out. “Everyone, grab some pizza and make your way to the pool beds. Let’s get settled before the sunset starts.”

The short-lived relief at his agreement disappears under a wave of fear.

Oh god. The last thing I can stomach is pizza right now.

“Why are you eating pizza again, Mia? You’re getting a little soft around the edges. A man like me needs to present a certain image, you know, and that extends to you too.” Pete’s voice echoes in my head, clear as day, reminding me of the not-so-silent judgment I used to live with daily.

My stomach roils with nausea.

Fuck, a half an hour in his presence and all my hard work’s destroyed. It took me so long to realize junk food wasn’t a weapon of mass destruction. Swayze unknowingly helped with that when I moved in with him, insisting on our pizza and movie nights.

Now I’m right back where I started, anxiety gripping my throat at the knowledge that he’ll watch me eat it. Silently judging every inch of me.

Swayze draws me out of my head, his warm palms sliding up and down my arms.

“What pizza do you want, Angel? Pineapple?” He grins down at me, trying to lighten the mood again.

“You go ahead, I’m not really hungry.” Flashing him a tiny smile, I nod in a way I hope says, I’m fine, let it go.

Yeah. That wasn’t gonna fly.

Immediately, his brows slam down over his eyes, concern written all over his face.

“No way, Mia, you haven’t eaten all day. You need to eat something.” His arms fall away, and he strides toward the buffet like a man on a mission. His brow still furrowed, he opens and closes boxes until he finds one he likes, but instead of putting a couple of slices on a plate, he brings the entire box back over to me.

“Come on, let’s go.” He grabs my hand and tugs me to the pool beds, dropping down to sit on the one labeled with our names.

I step over the center console meant to hold drinks and snacks to settle on the other side, when his grip on my hand tightens.

“Where you goin’, Angel?”

“I was just gonna sit down.” I wave my hand to the other side of our pool bed, nodding pointedly at the way everyone else is sitting.

“Nope.” He pops the P, his eyes locked with mine.

“What do you mean, nope? I’m not just gonna stand here, Swayze. I think I’ve put on enough of a show today.”

“I mean, nope.”