Chapter 4 Rowan #2
I’m doing this ‘cause I like the way she looks at me. Like I’m someone worth smiling at. Someone worth comforting. Someone worth something.
“You saved me when you didn’t have to,” she says, her quiet voice making me freeze. “You’re even doing something you don’t want to do because of it.”
I don’t dare turn around to face her. Because then I’d let myself believe what she’s saying and that’s a dangerous game.
“You haven’t been cruel and you haven’t taken advantage of me,” she continues.
The thought of anyone taking advantage of her soft innocence makes me want to tear the sheet metal of this trailer apart with my bare hands.
“If that’s not nice, then I don’t know what is.”
My head falls to my chest as I shake my head.
“You’ve gotta have higher standards than that, Sugar,” I mumble.
“Just take the compliment,” she huffs.
The small noise finally makes me glance over my shoulder at her. She’s perched on the edge of the sofa, her arms crossed over her chest and her tongue poking along the inside of her cheek.
She looks fucking adorable.
She looks at me like that and I’ll agree to anything she says.
“Sure,” I breathe out. “What do you want to eat? It’s not a great selection, but I’ve got a whole bunch of different frozen dinners for you to choose from.
” I open the freezer and wince. “Okay, I actually take that back. It’s mostly pasta.
Got different kinds of pasta, but there’re only so many ways you can have noodles and sauce—“
I turn back to glance at her and stiffen, completely forgetting the contents of my freezer when I see the nervous tremble in her hands.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, slamming the freezer door shut. The noise just makes her jump, and she actually grows pale, which is an impressive feat considering how pale she already is. “Fuck, are you allergic to pasta or something? Tell me where I messed up. God, Sugar, don’t look at me like that.”
She looks like a kicked puppy.
I don’t care if she needs space, or whatever. I just have to hope that she’s able to push me away if she’s uncomfortable because I instantly make my way back to her, falling to my knees and taking her hands in mine.
Damn, she’s actually shaking. Her breath comes in short pants, and her gaze darts everywhere around the room but me.
“Hey, hey, shhhh,” I soothe, squeezing her hands gently. “I’m not a mind reader. You’ve gotta tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it.”
I wrack my brain with what to say as she just looks at me silently, her eyes wide with panic. There are tears clinging to her lower lashes.
“I’m not mad. And nothing you say will make me mad, I promise. Just—just talk to me, Sugar.”
“I—I don’t want to choose,” she whispers, her gaze dropping to our connected hands.
“Huh? You don’t want to choose dinner?” Well, that definitely wasn’t what I was expecting from her.
She gives me a jerky nod.
“You’re freaking out ‘cause I asked you to choose?”
More nodding. Like a pretty bobblehead.
“I’m gonna need you to explain to me why,” I murmur, stilling her nodding with a gentle grip on her chin.
“I’ve never had to choose what to eat before,” she mumbles. “I don’t want to make the wrong choice. What if—what if I pick wrong?”
The urgency in her voice, the open dread in her expression, and the sourness of her strawberry scent all scream that she’s being completely honest with me. The idea of picking a frozen meal to eat is freaking her out.
“You’re not going to pick wrong, Sugar.” I shift my hold on her face so I’m cupping her cheek.
Her eyes flutter shut as she leans into my touch. That slight movement makes me want to burn down this entire compound so I can keep her with me.
But that’s fucking stupid.
I’m a beta. I’ll never be enough for an omega like her.
So, I should crush those dreams while I can.
“Can you—can you still pick for me?” She asks softly. “Please?”
“Course I can. You’ve just gotta promise me to tell me whether or not you like it, ‘kay?” I answer, my throat tight. It’s just a stupid frozen meal, but she trusts me to make the choice for her.
To someone who’s always lived in the shadows, who’s always known he’s not good enough for jack shit, it’s an intoxicating feeling.
The way her strawberry scent sweetens as she looks up at me hits me just as hard as an enhancement drug dose.
“Okay!” She nods eagerly.
The words good girl are on the tip of my tongue, but flashes of Jett calling her a good little omega make the words die before they leave my lips.
I shake my head. I can’t forget the situation we’re actually in. That’s dangerous.
“I’m a big fan of chicken Alfredo, so how ‘bout you try one of those?” I ask as I make my way to my fridge. “Have you ever tried chicken Alfredo before?”
She shakes her head, and my jaw clenches. What kind of fuckass facility was she living in? And how long was she kept there? ‘Cause everyone I know has had fucking pasta before.
“I wouldn’t want to take something you really like,” she says, her voice a little shaky. Dammit, she could probably see how pissed I was getting.
I turn back to her and offer her a small, reassuring smile, like the ones she tries to give me.
“Nah, if you’ve never had chicken Alfredo before, we’ve gotta fix that. It just means I have someone else I can share the joy with, you know?”
“If you’re sure...” she says, trailing off, her hands clasped nervously in her lap.
“I’m sure, Sugar.”
“Okay then, thank you!” She finally returns my smile, and the muscles in my shoulders instantly relax.
I’ll share everything I have with her. I’d do fucking anything to get her to look at me like that.