Harper makes a face. “I know it’s pathetic, okay? But sometimes I wear it just to remind myself that I’m not always alone. Or that I wasn’t always alone.” She wraps her arms around herself, like she needs something to hold on to. “It’s not a big deal.”
In a twisted way, it does make sense. At one point, these Alphas must have cared about her, at least a little. Enough to start the process of bonding with her. But then they threw her away, leaving her rejected and alone, and I feel like that should trump any care they ever showed her before.
“They don’t deserve it,” I tell Harper. “For you to wear anything of theirs. They don’t deserve to be on your mind. They rejected you.”
“I know that,” she says, her voice low. “You think I don’t know that?”
“No, I’m saying—” I break off with a frustrated noise. “Hold on.” An impulse strikes me all of a sudden, and I give in to it. I go to my room and rifle through my drawers until I come up with a shirt I’ve had for a while. It’s soft, faded and saturated with my scent after years of wearing it.
Harper is still standing in the hall when I come back, looking confused. When I hand the shirt over to her, she blinks down at it and then up at me, like she’s trying to make sense of the gesture.
“You can wear this instead,” I say. “So you don’t have to feel alone, and you don’t have to wear something from people who treated you like you were disposable.”
“Lincoln…” she says softly, fingering the soft material of the shirt. “You don’t have to do this.”
“It’s just a shirt. I’ve got a bunch from my time being a fire fighter. Put it on, if you want.”
She looks like she’s considering it, and then she smiles a little. “Turn around then,” she says.
I do, giving her the semblance of privacy, even though I’m very aware of the fact that she’s topless behind me.
“Okay,” she says after a bit. “I’m decent.”
I turn back around, and somehow, I’m not prepared for the sight of her in my shirt. It’s baggy on her, falling down over her thighs, but not hiding the softness of her curves. Her hair is a bit messy from changing, and she looks soft and touchable in a way that makes my palms itch.
And she’s wearing my shirt. Her scent is mingling with mine, and something possessive and fierce wants to rise up in me. I shove it back down before it can get out of hand, taking a deep breath.
“You can keep that,” I tell her, and my voice sounds rough even to my own ears. “So you can remember that you’re not alone.”
Chapter 17
Harper
I keep Lincoln’s shirt on all night. The one from my old Alphas gets tossed into the corner, and I can’t help but think about his words and the feeling of having something of his pressed close to my skin all night.
It feels like claiming something I don’t deserve, but I can’t bring myself to take it off. The fabric is soft and worn, and it smells like him. It wraps me in his scent in a way that makes me feel safe, and just a little turned on. I get some of the best sleep I’ve had in a while, curled up like that, and I try hard not to poke at the reasons why.
In the morning, I go downstairs for coffee and breakfast, and Lincoln’s eyes track me as I move around the kitchen. They go dark as they take me in, and instead of making me feel uncomfortable, it sends a pool of heat simmering low in my belly.
Of course, when Everett and Cash come down, they can immediately tell what’s going on, and they watch me with their own looks of approval. It makes my skin tingle and my heart pound to have their eyes on me like that. It feels like I’ve been marked in some primal way, even though nothing’s been said.
“So,” Cash says, once he’s settled at the kitchen table with his coffee. “The shirt.”
“The shirt,” I echo, not even close to knowing how to explain.
Lincoln glances at me, clearly asking for permission to explain, and I give him a little nod. Easier to let him do it than to try to find the words myself.
“She was wearing her old pack’s shirt,” he says simply. “So I gave her mine instead.”
Cash gets up immediately, walking down the short hall to the laundry room. He comes back with one of his shirts, something soft and light blue. “If you need something else to wear, I’ve got plenty of these.”
“I have some too,” Everett offers. “If you need something else.”
I laugh, caught off guard by the sincerity and immediacy of their offers. My cheeks flush pink with embarrassment, and I shake my head at them. “I’ll keep it in mind.”
Luckily, I have work to do and Cora to get up and out the door, so I’m saved from having to discuss it anymore.
The next few days pass easily. My ankle stops hurting after the second day, and the knot that has been in my stomach since I got here seems to have untwisted itself. I pick my car up from Paul, and having my own way to get around definitely helps. There’s also something about staying on my own terms that takes some of the stress off. I don’t feel a huge timer above my head, counting down until when I need to leave here. Staying until I have enough money to be comfortable leaving has settled me, and I think I didn’t realize how stressed out I was until the stress was removed.