Page 78 of Healed in the Alpha's Embrace
“Really?” Ro’s eyes lit up with a mixture of surprise and excitement.
“Absolutely. We’ll go to your Auntie Heather’s later and grab some of your stuff. Then we can go to the store and get things to make it feel more like your own room.”
I opened my mouth to tell Noah that he didn’t need to spoil him, but I caught myself. There was a tenderness in Noah’s offer, a genuine desire to make Ro comfortable. It was completely different from George’s attempts at buying affection. Noah truly cared about us.
“Thank you, Noah.” Ro’s eyes danced when he glanced at me, seeking permission, and I nodded, my heart lighter than it had been all day. “Are you sick like when I had strep throat that time, Mom?”
“No,” I said. “I’m just tired, sweetheart.”
Noah’s gentle touch broke through the haze of my weariness as he set me on his bed. He helped me slip my shoes and socks off, and I missed the warmth of his body. He sat down beside me, the bed dipping under his weight.
“Zoey,” he murmured, tenderly sweeping stray locks of hair from my forehead. His touch danced across my skin, tracing contours like a map to reassure both of us that I was real, that I was here and safe. “You did good today. Really good.”
I wanted to believe him, to embrace the swell of pride and let it dissolve the uncertainty that plagued my thoughts, but my exhaustion was a shroud too heavy to lift. “I’m just so tired, Noah,” I whispered.
“I know,” he said, his thumbs brushing my cheeks now. “You can rest now. You’re brave, braver than anyone I’ve ever known. You deserve some peace.”
His words were like a soft, healing balm, and I allowed myself the luxury of leaning into their truth.
Noah pressed his lips to mine in a long kiss that promised to fend off the darkness just a little longer. When he pulled away,there was an unspoken vow in his gaze, a silent oath that he’d protect me and Ro.
“Rest easy,” he said before standing and leaving the room. The door closed softly behind him, and I curled up and closed my eyes.
In the quiet of Noah’s room, with Ro’s faint laughter filtering through the walls, sleep claimed me swiftly. But the sanctuary of slumber was short-lived. Darkness twisted into shapes and sounds from a life I was desperate to leave behind. George’s face loomed over me, his green eyes cold and predatory as he reached for Ro.
“Mine,” he growled.
I shot upright, gasping for air, the nightmare clinging to me like cobwebs. My heart raced, pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs.
“Ro!” I screamed, a shard of panic lodged in my throat.
I had to see my son. My hands trembled uncontrollably, desperate to hold him, knowing his presence would shatter the hold of the suffocating nightmare.
A dream. It was just a dream. I fought against the fear, the control George still held over me, even though he wasn’t present.
“Ro?” my voice cracked, high-pitched and thin. No answer.
I stumbled out of bed, my legs wobbling beneath me. “Noah?”
Nothing but silence greeted me. It was too quiet for a house that should be filled with my son’s laugh and Noah’s voice.
I needed to find them. My bare feet slapped the hardwood as I searched each room, desperation clawing at my throat. The callous squeeze of anxiety on my chest made breathing near impossible. The emptiness of the house echoed back at me with each frantic heartbeat.
The kitchen was my last stop, the cold tile floor stinging my heated skin. A magnet shaped like a boxing glove pinned a note to the fridge.
Zoey,didn’t want to wake you. Ro and I went to pick up some groceries. Be back soon.
A long, tremulous sigh escaped my lips as a cocktail of relief and guilt swirled inside me. I should’ve known. Noah wouldn’t just leave without a word, not with Ro.
I leaned against the counter. The fear that had held me in its grasp since I’d woken from the nightmare of George kidnapping my son loosened its grip, if only by a fraction. Trust wasn’t something that came easy to me, but it was different with Noah. He was working hard to earn every shred of trust from me by protecting Ro and me.
“Mom!” The sound of the front door slamming open and Ro’s feet thudding through the hall snapped me back to the present.
“In here!” I called, pushing away from the counter.
Noah walked in first, his sandy hair tousled. Ro came in behind him, his arms wrapped around bags nearly as big as him. On top of it lay a comforter with race cars zooming across it.
“Look, Mom! Look what Noah bought for my bedroom,” Ro chirped. “We got lots of stuff!”
