Page 105 of Forget-Me-Nots and Apricots

"You should get some rest," he said, his voice rougher than usual. "It's been a long day."

I nodded, reluctant to break the connection between us but feeling the weight of exhaustion pressing down. "You're right. Tomorrow will be busy too."

Dakota stepped back, though his hand lingered on mine for a moment longer. "I'll be nearby if you need anything." The promise in his words extended beyond simple protection, and we both knew it.

"Goodnight, Dakota," I whispered, squeezing his hand once before letting go.

"Goodnight, Vivian," he replied, waiting until I was safely inside my room before I heard his footsteps retreating down the hall.

Chapter Forty-Four

Itossedandturnedinmy nest, but sleep didn’t want to happen tonight it seems.

Despite the physical exhaustion weighing down my limbs, my mind refused to quiet. Images from the day kept replaying—Lucas's playful smile as he'd held me in my nest, Gabriel's intense gaze in his study, Dakota's gentle goodnight kiss. And beneath those sweeter memories lurked darker ones—the discussion about why I'd been targeted, the realization that my independence as an Omega had somehow marked me for violence.

I shifted again, punching my pillow into a more comfortable shape. The sheets felt too warm, then too cool. My skin seemed hypersensitive, remembering every touch, every kiss from earlier. But overlaying that pleasant hum of desire was a persistent anxiety about the case, about what tomorrow might bring.

With a frustrated sigh, I threw back the covers and sat up. Sleep clearly wasn't coming anytime soon. Maybe some tea would help—something herbal and soothing to calm my racing thoughts.

I slipped on a robe over my sleep shorts and tank top, then padded barefoot into the hallway. The house was quiet, the corridor dimly lit by small night-lights along the baseboard. I moved silently through the hall, wondering if any of the Alphas were still awake or if they'd all retired to their rooms.

The kitchen was dark when I entered, but I knew my way around well enough now to find the kettle without turning on the harsh overhead lights. I filled it with water and set it on the stove, the soft click of the gas igniting providing the only sound in the stillness. While I waited for it to boil, I leaned against the counter, wrapping my arms around myself against the slight chill.

"Trouble sleeping?"

I startled at the voice, turning to find Theo standing in the doorway. He was still dressed in his clothes from earlier, though his tie was loosened and the top button of his shirt undone. His glasses reflected the dim light from the stove, making his eyes temporarily unreadable.

"I didn't mean to startle you," he said, moving into the kitchen with that precise, measured gait of his. "I heard movement and wanted to ensure everything was all right."

I nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "Just couldn't sleep. Thought some tea might help."

Theo studied me for a moment, his analytical gaze taking in my rumpled appearance, the way my arms were wrapped protectively around myself. "Your insomnia is understandable. Today contained multiple emotional and intellectual stressors."

I smiled faintly at his clinical assessment. "That's one way of putting it." He moved through the kitchen setting the kettle on the stove, letting it heat up.

"I didn't mean to disturb you," I said, keeping my voice low. "Just couldn't sleep."

Theo turned from the stove to look at me, "You didn't disturb me. I was working." He gestured to the tablet tucked under his arm. "The financial trails are complex. I find nighttime conducive to concentration."

I smiled faintly, unsurprised that Theo would be working in the middle of the night. "Does your brain ever turn off?"

"Rarely," he admitted, setting his tablet on the counter and moving closer. His eyes, sharp even in the dim light, studied me. "Insomnia is my frequent companion."

"Mine too, lately," I confessed, wrapping my arms tighter around myself. "Though for different reasons, I imagine."

The kettle began to whistle, and Theo moved with efficient grace to silence it before the sound could wake the others. He retrieved two mugs from the cabinet and selected tea bags from the organized drawer beside the stove.

"Chamomile with lavender," he explained, preparing both mugs. "Studies indicate it's particularly effective for anxiety-induced insomnia."

I accepted the mug he offered, our fingers brushing briefly in the exchange. "Thank you."

Theo gestured toward the kitchen island. "Would you like to sit?"

I nodded, grateful for the company despite my earlier desire for solitude. We settled onto adjacent stools, the steam from our mugs rising between us in the dim kitchen. Theo's presence beside me was oddly comforting—not demanding conversation like Lucas might, or radiating protective energy like Dakota, but simply existing alongside me in the quiet moment.

"Your thoughts are agitated," Theo observed after several minutes of comfortable silence. "It's evident in your micro-expressions—the tension around your eyes, the way you keep adjusting your posture."

I smiled faintly, taking a sip of tea. "Is there anything you don't notice?"

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