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Zev groans. “Charlie said those exact words days ago. Why did it take hearing them from Sam’s mouth to convince you?”
Mylo’s gaze drops to my lips, and they don’t seem to move away. This goes on for several seconds until Vanessa elbows Mylo in the arm. “Huh?” He looks up at Vanessa. “Did you say something?”
Laughter fills the room at Mylo’s inability to focus, but I don’t find it funny at all. It just makes me want him more than I did, which was already quite a lot. I miss talking to him. I miss the way he held me after sex, and the softness in his voice when he’d read to me. I miss everything about him.
After a few more rounds of Mylo’s brothers telling him he cannot run for mayor, Zev and Kyan bid us farewell. Zev is eager to resume practicing with his new guitar, and Kyan grumbles about having to go into the office early the next day.
I hug Vanessa before I go, thanking her for giving me a reason to leave the house, and she pulls me into a corner of the dining room. “I have the photos Charlie took of what happened at the library,” she whispers. “She was going to send them to the paper, but I thought it might make more of an impact coming from you.”
“Me?”
“Yeah, with your resume and portfolio, they’re more likely to take it seriously. I’ll text you the photos as soon as you leave. Send them to the Concord Chronicle, okay? And, you never know. It could lead to other things. Paid assignments, even.”
I nod, appreciating her support. “I’ll reach out to them tonight.”
Vanessa hugs me again at the front door, and Mylo follows me to the edge of her driveway.
“How’ve you been?” I ask, then immediately regret the question. “I mean, other than your arrest.”
He shoves his hands into his pockets and rocks back and forth on his heels, making him look like a shy teenager rather than the centuries-old dragon shifter he is. “Other than that humiliating hiccup, uh, I have been well, yes. The kids loved drag story hour, and I think the parents did too.”
“I’m so sorry Officer Burton ruined it,” I tell him, desperate to reach for him. To provide even a sliver of solace to his otherwise trash heap of a day.
He scrubs a hand down his face. “That little man seems intent on destroying us. There has to be some way to stop him.”
I know he’s not expecting an answer, but I still wish I could give him one.
“Well, I should head home,” I say, swatting away the mosquitos that are suddenly flying around my head. I want Mylo to invite me over to his place. Or offer to walk me home. Anything. Even five more minutes in his company would be nice.
“Actually, can you wait here? I have something for you.”
“Yes. Yes, I’ll wait.” I don’t care how eager or desperate I sound. Mylo has a gift for me. I stare at his perfectly sculpted ass as he jogs toward his house, and I have to fan myself as soon as he disappears inside.
He returns with a wrapped gift the size of a manila envelope, and I tear into it the second he hands it over.
“Oh my god,” I gasp as I stare at the framed photo of Mom and me asleep in her bed, our heads nestled together and our fingers entwined between us. He must’ve taken it while he was reading to her. The soft light from the lamp on her nightstand cascades over the side of her face, making her look ten years younger and so peaceful. “You took this?”
He nods, the dimple in his cheek accentuated by the moonlight. “The second time I came over to read to your mom. Do you remember? She put her head on your shoulder and quickly fell asleep. Then, about five minutes later, you leaned into her and fell asleep too.”
“Yeah, I remember,” I choke out, my eyes filling with tears. The memory is fresh in my mind. His voice is just so soothing that I passed out instantly. Or maybe it’s not his voice, specifically, but his presence. When he’s near, I feel safe. “Thank you so much.” I launch myself at him, and he catches me easily, holding my body against his. Slowly, I draw back, and I don’t know if I make the first move, or he does, but suddenly his lips are on mine.
Maybe I haven’t ruined this. Maybe there’s a chance for us after all.
A second later, my hopes are dashed as he pulls away, holding me at a distance by my shoulders much like he did in the mop closet at Mom’s funeral. “I’m sorry, Samantha. I’m sorry for everything I said at the hospital. I regret my words. But I’m also sorry because we can’t do this.”
“But wouldn’t it be a lot of fun if we did?” I ask, half-serious, half-teasing.
He shakes his head solemnly. “I care about you. Deeply,” he says, releasing me. “I want you to be happy, but I also want me to be happy, and unless you’re ready for something real, then I must remain your friend and nothing more.”
Am I ready for something real? I’m no longer a caregiver, so that’s not a reason to hesitate. However, if I go back to working the way I was before, any relationship we started would be mostly long distance. Even if I requested more assignments close to home, my job keeps me on the road a lot. Would Mylo be interested in a long-distance relationship?
Then there’s the issue of his draxilio, and this whole red-eye situation. I don’t know much about the way the mate bond is formed among his species, but when Axil’s eyes turned red, it was in front of Vanessa, and it was the moment his draxilio and his flightless form became aligned on the idea of her being the one. It was a silent agreement, of sorts, between the two parts of Axil’s soul that Vanessa was their perfect match.
I know Mylo’s draxilio adores me, and if he wants a relationship with me, why haven’t his eyes turned red? Shouldn’t that mean that they’re aligned? That I’m the one for them? Or am I setting myself up for heartbreak? What if I tell Mylo I’m ready for something real tonight and tomorrow his eyes turn red for someone else?
That would crush me. And I wouldn’t just be losing Mylo, I’d be losing Vanessa in a way too. Sure, we’d stay friends, but the distance would grow between us the moment Mylo’s eyes turned red. His mate would become part of the group, and I don’t know if I could handle watching another woman hang all over him.
There are too many unknowns to make him a promise I can’t keep, so I offer only what I can. “Friends it is,” I say, holding out my hand.
