Page 32 of Run Omega Run
"He's good with them," I observed, watching the way Dante adjusted his explanations for different ages and attention spans.
"He's good with everyone," Bennett said. "It's his gift... making people feel cared for."
Before I could respond, I noticed Cole had arrived. He was approaching the group below, carrying what appeared to be a medical bag. He moved with the quiet authority of someone accustomed to inserting himself into situations where his expertise might be needed, but doing so with enough subtlety that he wouldn't disrupt whatever positive dynamic was already in place.
I watched him crouch beside Dylan, who'd been coughing more than usual over the past few days—nothing serious, just the type of persistent cold that children seemed to pick up and pass around like shared toys. Cole's examination was thorough but gentle, his dark clothing, and serious expression somehow projecting competence rather than threat.
From my perch on the roof, I could see the entire scene unfolding like something from a life I'd never dared imagine for us. Children who felt safe enough to laugh and ask questions, adults who cared enough to check on minor health concerns, the smell of authentic food being prepared with attention to both nutrition and pleasure.
It was beautiful and terrifying in equal measure, because it represented everything I wanted for them and everything I'd taught myself not to hope for.
The conflicted emotions playing across my face must have been obvious, because Bennett paused in his work to study my expression.
"What are you thinking?" he asked.
Before I could plan an answer that wouldn't expose how desperately I wanted this scene to be permanent, the first fat raindrops fell, followed by a sudden downpour that turned morning work projects into mad scrambles for cover.
Bennett moved instinctively, his body coming between me and the worst of the weather as he tried to shield me from the rain that was already soaking through my work shirt. Our faces came close together in the shelter he created, close enough that I could see the way water beaded on his dark hair, could smell the intensification of his peppermint scent as it mixed with rain and the earthy smell of storm-washed air.
I bit my lower lip without thinking, a nervous habit that seemed to draw his attention like a magnet. His eyes fixed on the small movement, and I watched him breathe in deeply, as if he were trying to memorize this moment when we were pressed together by necessity and circumstance.
"Come on," he said, his voice rougher than it had been moments before. "Let's get you inside until the rain eases."
I nodded, not trusting my voice to remain steady, and followed him as we carefully climbed down from the slippery roof. When I’d almost reached the bottom, Bennett picked me up off of the ladder and into his arms, allowing my body to slide down his until my feet were firmly on the floor. I took a deep breath, feeling the heat from him absorb into me, swirling inside and promising explosions of sexual desire.
The children had already taken shelter on the covered front porch, their eager chatter mixing with the sound of rain against the old building's walls.
"I should check on my mother anyway," I managed as we reached the relative dryness of the porch.
Bennett nodded in understanding, then moved toward the makeshift hot chocolate station that Dante had relocated under the overhang. "Let me get you something warm first," he offered,accepting a plate of risotto and a steaming mug from Dante's hands.
Dante grinned when he saw me accept them, his marshmallow scent wrapping around me. "Nothing better than hot chocolate on a rainy day," he said, and there was something in his expression that suggested he was cataloguing this moment, storing it away like treasure.
I took a sip, letting the warmth spread through my chest, and looked around at the scene that had somehow become my life. The children huddled together on the porch, safe, dry and giggling about the sudden change in weather. The volunteers continued to work in the rain, their commitment to our home undeterred by temporary discomfort. The pack members who'd somehow inserted themselves into our daily routine with a seamless integration that felt both miraculous and inevitable.
For the first time in months, I allowed myself to acknowledge what I'd been too afraid to admit: I didn't want to face everything alone anymore.
Chapter 14
Heather
The spoon felt impossibly heavy in my hand as I lifted another careful portion of Dante's risotto toward Mom's lips, watching her face for signs that she was ready for the next bite. The creamy rice had cooled, and I could smell the herbs he'd used—rosemary and thyme that made even this simple act of feeding feel like something special.
Mom's eyes were clearer than they'd been in days, the medications from the hospital having worked some temporary magic that allowed her to sit propped against her pillows without the constant struggle for breath that had been consuming her. Her skin still looked paper thin and translucent, but there was a spark of alertness that reminded me of the woman who'd raised me with fierce determination and endless love.
