Page 29 of Thorns That Bloom (Venusverse #3)

“Today’s my first day back,” I assure him with a smile. He seems a bit worried. The longer I stand here, the thinner his mask, and the more of the real him I can see. “I was hoping to see you at lunch, but you weren’t there. Are you— Is everything okay? Are you feeling well? And the baby?”

His eyes widen briefly. Then he escapes my gaze and swallows, the ball in the middle of his throat bobbing underneath his skin in a way that makes me want to touch it.

“Baby and I are fine. Everything’s going as it should developmentally. Thanks for asking.” A smile flashes over his lips, but it’s shaky and half-hearted. What’s worrying him? “As for the cafeteria, I don’t think I’ll be…going there anymore. For now, anyway. I…yeah. Not because of you.”

The heaviness dragging that beautiful voice of his down nearly propels me forward. I take two steps toward him before I stop myself. He finally meets my concerned gaze. “Did something happen? Did someone do something?”

Sam blinks, shaking his head without breaking eye contact.

“What is it, Sam?”

Whatever it is, it sends fear through him. Fear I see right before he faces away again, anxiously shifting in his seat and resting his other arm on his stomach, too.

The room fills with silence. I don’t know if it’s the kind that says I shouldn’t push further, or the one I need to let brew to allow him to open up.

“It’s nothing, just… They changed the cleaning product they use there.

You know, wipe the floors with and stuff.

” Right. I guess it smelled a little different.

I figured it was simply me forgetting after so long of being away.

“The scent is…it’s similar to…” With every agonizing pause, I wonder if I should tell him to stop talking.

My stomach churns painfully. “Similar to the cleaner they used in the restroom at my old company. It, um,” swallowing hard, Sam puffs air out of his nose, clearly struggling to keep his voice firm, “brings back memories. Makes me anxious to be there, so I’ve been bringing food with me and usually eat it here. ”

I feel like molten iron is being poured over my entire body.

Clenching my jaw until my teeth hurt, I straighten my back. Sam’s eyes find me, and the way he looks like he’s ashamed for bringing it up, or worried about my reaction, makes the pain a hundred times worse.

“It’s not your fault that it triggers you, it— Surely, we could talk to someone about it. It can’t be much of a problem for them to change the cleaning product to what it was.”

“No,” he says firmly. “That’s ridiculous. This is my issue. I don’t want to cause trouble when it’s not necessary.”

“It’s not causing trouble to ask for accommoda—” Seeing his fiery glare, I swallow my words. I see. This is about his pride. He doesn’t want to be seen as a victim. “It’s your choice. Whatever you want to do. I just don’t want you to go hungry.”

Sam runs his hand over his forehead, disturbing the lovely curls falling around his face. I wonder what his hair feels like. It looks soft.

“I’m not. Believe me. I might… I’ll work on it, on getting over the discomfort. It’s just that right now, it’s not my priority. My therapist says I should choose my battles, so that’s what I’m doing.”

“That makes sense,” I say, putting my hand into the pocket of my bomber jacket. When I do, I hear a faint crinkling, and it hits me that I completely forgot about the gift I brought. “Oh!” I blurt, pulling it out. “Here.”

Sam stares at the small, round object wrapped in baking paper in my open hand.

“Cookies. I made them when I was stuck at home. Well, my pop and I did. I helped as much as I could,” I say with a grin, hinting at my hand.

Sam looks like a cautious feral cat, but opens it to reveal three chocolate chip cookies.

“It’s black and white chocolate bits. The center should be soft, though…

I’m not sure how it’s held up after sitting in my pocket all day.

Anyway, it uh…I didn’t do it just for you.

I had extras. I thought you might like it.

Pregnant people have cravings and stuff, right?

I mean, who doesn’t crave cookies, even normally? ”

My god, I want to shut that door into the room with my head in it. Stop rambling!

Sam’s tight-lipped chuckle makes me all wobbly in the knees. With a crooked smile, he rests the cookies in his lap. “Do you bake often?” he asks.

“Er, sometimes. I enjoy cooking more, in general.”

“That meal you brought me. Did you make that?”

Heat rises to my cheeks again. “Mhm, yeah. Did you…did you like it?”

“I did,” he admits. I have no idea if he knows how velvety his voice sounds when he does.

Before I can freak out about what it does to me, I watch him take a bite of one of the cookies, his lips parting to reveal those pearly white teeth.

His brows shoot up after a few moments of chewing.

While humming and mmm-ing, he starts nodding, covering his mouth with his hand as he eats. “Oh. That’s good. Really good.”

I could get used to his praise. It feels so nice. Dangerously so…

“My pop did most of it, honestly.”

Sam keeps smirking and glancing at me. I’m glad I at least distracted him from those negative emotions. “An alpha who bakes and cooks, hm?” he asks playfully, almost like he’s teasing me.

I offer a similarly lighthearted response while I rest my arms crossed over my chest. “Oh? You think an alpha shouldn’t be able to enjoy cooking? A bit stereotypical, no?”

Sam takes my jab well. The same warmth stays in his eyes. He takes another bite, and I wait for him to enjoy it, relish it.

“I suppose you’re right that I’m being close-minded. My parents are betas, so I think some of their more traditional, gendered preconceived notions might have rubbed off on me subconsciously,” he says lightly.

Everything around me lights up like I’ve uncovered another part of a treasure.

“Both of them? That’s pretty unusual,” I say.

“I was adopted. They expected to get a regular little beta infant when they got me. It was what they were supposed to get from the beta orphanage, anyway, but clearly…whoever brought me in lied, or wasn’t fully aware of their lineage.

Either way, my parents were thrown for a bit of a loop when I got my first heat at fourteen,” he says with an amused huff. “Especially my father.”

More. Please, feed me more. Every word’s like a delicious sip of the most tantalizing wine. He must notice me staring at him like he’s the gods’ gift to Earth, because he quickly clears his throat and puts the rest of the cookie in his mouth.

You’re being too much. Too weird. Quick, reel it back in.

“While I was home, getting bored to death, I…I thought about something. About what you said in the car.”

Sam’s demeanor immediately shifts. His face turns more serious. He pulls back his shoulders and waits for me to continue.

I clasp my hands together, gulping. “You…were right. I won’t push any of that fated mates stuff anymore.

” I leave out my absolute inability to even think about a relationship with someone else.

That’s not important right now. “If it makes you uncomfortable, I will try to let it go, but can I— I know it might be too much. And I promise you, I swear on my life that there won’t be any ulterior motives behind it, but could we at least…

Could we be around each other as friends?

Just two people. Nothing more. Maybe I could continue bringing you food when I make some. ”

My entire body feels like it’s on fire again. I can’t keep my damn voice firm enough not to sound like some nervous, insecure pup.

“There’s this balcony tucked away on the other side of this floor.

No one ever uses it, really. I could show you, we…

could go there to eat lunch, so you’re not just locked up inside this little room all day.

It’s busy enough there. Near Accounting.

And I would— I promise, only as friends.

I will never overstep that boundary. I swear, Sam. ”

Oh, I came off absolutely desperate just now, didn’t I? I wish the ground would open up and swallow me whole.

Sam stares at me with wide eyes, his chest still. He’s clearly struggling to comprehend the rambly mess of thoughts that I just unloaded at him, and I don’t blame him.

When he finally breaks free with a snort, I worry it’s going to be followed by him telling me how pathetic I am, but instead, he glances up at me with a guarded smile.

“You know, my…um, my therapist told me it’d be good for me to have ‘positive alpha role models’ in my life.

” He says, as if he finds it amusing, though I’m not exactly sure why.

“And as silly and persistent as you are, you’re also”—his gaze grows serious once he meets mine—“the only alpha I really feel comfortable around. For some reason, I can handle your pheromones without being too on edge. So I guess…I guess it wouldn’t be so bad.

What you’re proposing. As friends,” he adds firmly.

The feral, primal part of me wants to jump up and down and kiss him because of how happy I am, but that isn’t very friend-like behavior.

Squelching that tempting but deeply counterproductive urge, I nod, smiling widely at him. I allow myself that, at least. If I can’t kiss him or bounce with joy, I can do this. And to my utter delight, he responds with an unrestrained, adorable smile back.

It feels like I’ve gotten everything I could’ve hoped for, but there’s one more thing gnawing at me.

“So…would it be okay for me to get your number? You know, so I can make sure I don’t bring leftovers for you when we’re working different hours or…so you can tell me you maybe don’t feel like being around an alpha, ‘positive role model’ or not,” I blurt out, flashing him a hesitant look.

One corner of Sam’s mouth rides up. His eyes study me with a hint of suspicion.

“As friends,” I reiterate in a serious tone. “I mean it.”

He sighs.

“I suppose you have a point,” he says and extends his open hand out to me. “Your phone.”

I give it to him, biting back that stupid grin again. Sam notices it and does the same.

“Texts only, okay? That’s my hard rule. I hate people calling me. It’s the twenty-first century, for god’s sake,” he mutters to himself, briefly eyeing the other two cookies. I just keep staring at him, drinking in the unrestrained sight of him while he is distracted.

I love how grumpy he is. Sometimes I see him scowling at the people in the cafeteria before they speak to him, like his innate reaction to anyone approaching him is a disgusted ‘what the hell do you want from me’.

I want to be the only one he lights up seeing. The one he truly wants to be around when I’m gone.

Even if it’s just as a friend. That’s enough.

“Yessir,” I say.

After contemplation, Sam takes a bite of another cookie, and my heart is full.