Page 60 of Forget-Me-Nots and Apricots

I hesitated, unwilling to disturb the comfortable atmosphere by leaving, yet increasingly aware of my heavy eyelids. As if sensing my dilemma, Gabriel shifted slightly, creating a space that would allow me to lean against the couch without being too obvious. "Just close your eyes for a few minutes," he suggested, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through me.

Before I could overthink it, I allowed myself to relax, leaning back against the couch. The position wasn't quite comfortable, and I found myself shifting slightly, trying to find a better angle.

"Here," Gabriel murmured, so quietly that even I barely heard him. His arm moved behind me, creating a support that allowed me to lean more comfortably. It wasn't quite an embrace, but the warmth of his body against mine was unmistakable.

I should have tensed. I should have moved away. But exhaustion won out over caution, and I found myself relaxing against him, my head eventually coming to rest against his shoulder. His scent enveloped me, sandalwood and Apricots. It was calming. It didn’t take long before my eyes were closed and I was asleep.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Dakota POV

Iwatchedasherheaddrooped against Gabriel's shoulder, her breathing evening out into the steady rhythm of sleep. The sight struck something in me—something protective and possessive that I hadn't felt in years. Gabriel caught my eye across the dimly lit room, his expression carefully neutral despite the Omega currently using him as a pillow.

This wasn't part of the plan. Bringing her here was supposed to be about protection, about keeping a witness safe until we closed the case. It wasn't supposed to be about movie nights and shared meals and the way her scent—forget-me-nots and sunshine—was slowly permeating every corner of our home.

"She's out," Lucas whispered, nodding toward Vivian's sleeping form.

Gabriel nodded, barely moving to avoid disturbing her. "It's been a long few days for her."

"Her cortisol levels must be extremely elevated," Theo observed quietly, adjusting his glasses as he studied her with that clinical gaze that somehow never felt cold. "Sleep is the most efficient way for her system to regulate."

"English, Theo," I muttered, though there was no heat in my words.

"She's exhausted from stress," Theo clarified, his voice barely above a whisper but we all could hear him clearly.

Lucas exhaled slowly, his once buoyant, playful energy now subdued into a quiet resignation. “Yeah… well, she deserves a break,” he murmured, his voice trailing off as if weighed down by unspoken anxiety.

I found myself nodding in agreement more strongly than I cared to admit. There was an undeniable pull about Vivian, a potent mix of mystery and magnetism that seeped into your very bones. She didn’t clamor for attention, yet she possessed an effortless ability to command every gaze in the room—so independent, fiercely strong, and laced with a smart-mouthed edge. But in that fragile moment, curled up there as if the world had shrunk around her, she appeared minuscule, achingly vulnerable.

“She trusts us,” Gabriel said quietly, his voice roughened by experience and hidden struggles. “Whether she means to or not.” His words struck me like a sharp, unexpected blow, a punch that reverberated deep within. I hadn’t realized how desperately I yearned for her to let her guard down—to trust me, to truly see me—even though I often felt utterly lost in how to handle that yearning.

I rose from my seat and ambled toward the kitchen, craving a semblance of stability and solace. I poured myself a glass of water, the cool liquid offering a temporary distraction even though I knew I didn’t really need it—only eager enough to hold something tangible. Leaning over the sink, I gazed out the window where the moonlight spilled across the backyard. The silence enveloped me that stretched until I heard the measured, soft footsteps drawing near.

Lucas appeared suddenly beside me, his concern evident. “You okay?” he asked, leaning wearily against the counter as if seeking refuge in its solidity.

I took a small, reflective sip of water and then set the glass down with deliberate care. “I don’t know what we’re doing,” I admitted in a low, conflicted tone, the weight of uncertainty heavy in every word.

Lucas tilted his head thoughtfully, his arms folding across his chest as if wrapping himself in the comfort of his own convictions. “You mean with Vivian,” he clarified gently.

“Yeah.” My hand instinctively moved to the back of my neck, fingers smoothing over taut skin as if trying to erase the invisible knot of worry. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. She’s not—this isn’t like before.”

“No, it’s not,” Lucas replied simply, the brief cadence of his words laden with meaning. “She isn’t like anyone we’ve ever known.” His statement hung in the air, an undeniable truth that left no room for rebuttal.

I remained silent, for there was nothing further to add. We both recognized the truth in his words.

Pushing himself away from the counter, Lucas fixed me with a look that combined empathy and firm resolve. “You’re allowed to care, Dakota,” he said with quiet intensity.

I let out a humorless laugh that felt more like a bitter exhalation than a reaction to his words. “We’re not really supposed to care, are we? We’re cops, after all. And she’s a civilian—one tangled up in an active case, no less. And it hasn’t even been all that long since we met her.”

Lucas gave a slight shrug, his eyes alight with a mix of defiance and understanding. “You really think that stops feelings? Do you really believe Gabriel’s acting all cool over there because he isn’t already falling head over heels for her? And as for time… we became a pack in just four months. Need I say more?”

That remark drew a bitter smile from me, reluctant and laced with irony. “Gabriel’s always been better at hiding it. And… no comment.”

“Maybe it’s time we stop hiding—from her and from each other,” Lucas continued after a brief pause that seemed to stretch into an eternity. “She needs us all. I think we all know that.” His smile was small but sincere as he added, “Even without your comment, I know I’m right.”

Swallowing hard, I cast my gaze back toward the living room where Theo had shifted closer, his posture calm and deliberate, his legs tucked neatly beneath him as if in silent meditation. Gabriel had remained motionless, still cradling her as she rested against him, her presence like a quiet plea for comfort in the darkness. The movie had long since faded into obscurity, the screen now dark and irrelevant.

“She’s not going to be here forever,” I whispered, the words meant more for my own ears than anyone else’s.

---