After saying good night to Ezekiel, an ache settles deep in my chest—like the very space between us is a wound.
Oliver is waiting in the kitchen. The moment I step inside, he’s on his feet, wrapping me in one of his giant hugs. His warmth seeps into me, grounding me.
“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice low, rough with concern.
“Yes,” I answer, surprising myself with the truth. “Actually, I think I am.”
He studies me, searching my face for cracks, then pulls me in for another hug.
“Um… are you okay?” I mumble into his shirt.
“I was worried about you.”
“Really?”
“You’ve been through so much already. I didn’t know how you’d react to finding out you were Ezekiel’s mate.”
I let out a shaky laugh. “Oh. Yeah. I’m not really sure how I feel. I think I just need to sleep on it, you know? Ho
