There was a small café on the edge of Blue Ridge, and despite feeling the warriors’ eyes that were tasked to keep me and Malachi safe; It felt private.
Wes opened the door for me and different scents of coffee and baked goods flooded my senses. It was all too sweet for my liking. I remember hearing that mates could smell like foods or drinks, but the thought of someone smelling sickly sweet always rolled my stomach.
“If you want to pick a table, I’ll grab our order,” Wes offered a tense smile, and I tried to return a warmer one, but it probably looked more like I was trying not to vomit.
Wes and I were best friends before finding out we were mates. He helped me through so much s**t when we were younger. But at some point, the goofy, playful kid I knew grew into a stressed adult, and
