Page 81 of No Escape

The door opens and closes, and the sound of booted feet approaches Valor’s loft. Jostling comes from behind me, and I frown as the pillows are pulled away from my back. From the sounds of it, they land across the room, possibly on that couch the guys dragged in earlier.

I snuggle deeper into the pillow under my head but squeak when Shaw’s forearms slide between me and the mattress. He tugs and pulls me right off the edge of the bed, blanket and all.

“What are you doing?” I gasp, rolling into his chest.

“Fuck if I know,” he mutters, toting me over to the couch. It’s pretty basic, reminding me of the ones you see in hospitals back in the US.

Shaw sits down next to the pillows he tossed across the room. Once he’s settled, he brings me to rest over his lap, which is a whole process.

We have a brief tug-of-war over my blanket, but he’s stupidly strong, and of course he wins.

I frown, swipe the leftover tears from my eyes, and cross my arms over my chest. It’s freezing in here, and Valor’s plain white T-shirt doesn’t do shit to hide my hard nipples.

“You’ve mastered the mean mug in the last couple of years.” He chuckles, wrapping the blanket around my shoulders. “Not that I don’t get why, but it’s breaking my heart.” His forearm comes to rest in the indent above my ass, and his hand plasters to my hip, bringing me closer to his front. “I missed the hell out of you.”

I shoot him a dubious look but get distracted when he ducks his head, marking my cheeks with his scent one by one. It’s an intimate move shared between alphas and omegas meant to transfer pheromones directly onto the other’s skin.

My teeth dig into my lip as I stare up at his bright blue eyes. His blond hair is buzzed close on the sides and a little longer on top. He’s always alternated between a short beard and stubble, but both styles work for him in a way that’s hard to explain.

Shaw looks like the quarterback next door or maybe the cowboy you spend a night with when the rodeo comes through town. He’s covered in tattoos and has a medium build and lithe muscles. He somehow manages to pull off that all-American vibe effortlessly. Add in the slightly southern accent that only really shines through on certain words, and I’m sure he’s melted the panties right off a fair number of women.

He was my first crush, and it turned into a kind of silent obsession.

Leo came next, but he’s always been more of a calming presence. My feelings for Leo were sneakier, and I didn’t realize what was happening until I was already half in love with him.

They’ve always been so different while also being part of a package deal, at least in my mind. Where Leo was soothing, and spending time with him never seemed to drain my social battery, Shaw was always antagonizing me into acting. And it wasn’t a bad thing. Back then, I thought it was just part of his naturally flirtatious personality.

Whenever I was lonely or having a bad day, he’d tell me to get up and stop feeling sorry for myself. Then he would take me for ice cream or out to see a movie. I’d pretend to hate how he wouldn’t take no for an answer, but in reality, I was lonely, and him forcing me out of the house was a good thing.

There were times my dad would miss an award ceremony or something like the volleyball regional, and Shaw would push me to stand up for myself.How is he supposed to know you’re hurt if you never tell him? He needs to know you’re pissed that he doesn’t make time for you.

God, I was so frustrated with him every time he said something like that because it felt like he didn’t get it. I already got so little love and attention that making my father angry felt like a great way to lose the scraps I got.

Looking back on those conversations now, it wasn’t bad advice.

No matter if my family showed up or not, he and Leo were always in the crowd. Shaw would cheer louder than all the other families. At the time, it embarrassed the hell out of me, but the first time they weren’t there, I really missed it.

A big part of me assumed they would show up at my high school graduation. The thought brings the aching in my chest back with full force, and I look away.

“Can you just deck me already?” Shaw’s hand lands on my jaw, and his thumb stretches over my chin. He tilts my face back to his, and his brow furrows as he studies my face. “Scream in my face and get it out. Do you want to kick me in the balls? Whatever you need to do, just do it. I’ll take any of it over you refusing to look at me.”

I scoff, trying to twist my face out of his grip. “You don’t want to hear what I think about you.” I smack his forearm, but he still doesn’t release me.

“I can handle it.” His fingers dig into my skull right where it meets the top of my spine. “I’llgladlyfucking handle it. You bottle everything up. You always have. You can be pissed as shit, and rather than saying that, you hold it in. Is it because you want to be agreeable? Or do you think the only way anyone could ever love you is if you’re as low maintenance as possible?”

My hands land against his shoulders, shoving with all my might as I try to climb off of his lap. “You’re an asshole.”

His forearm holds me in place, shoving me back down. “That’s a good start, but keep going. I promise we’ll both feel better if you get it off your chest.”

“I hate it when you do that.” I jab a finger at his chest. “You goad and push until I snap.”

“And why do you think that is, Saylor?” He quirks an eyebrow. “Leo? You’ll sit and talk to him about anything. Open up and tell him all about your day and how you’re feeling, but I ask the same question, and what do I get? Shrugs and a whole lot of,I don’t know. Or even worse, silence.”

My head tilts.

I’ve always been sensitive to his emotions, even before I presented. It was just a lot less noticeable back then. Or rather, I really had to focus to pick up on it.

He’s hurt.

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