Page 61

Paige gently lifts the record by its edges and lowers it over the metal spindle in the center of the player.

She is as focused as I am when I am at work.

I don’t break her concentration.

I know how hard I held onto the blanket that Mom left me with, until my first foster parents wrenched it away from me and threw it into the trash.

I would have done anything to get it back like Paige is being able to listen to this song again.

Paige turns the knob, and the black disc starts to spin. She lifts the thin arm and drops the needle on the outer edge of the record.

A tiny click and crackle. Then like magic, music fills the attic.

I smile.

The soft song sounds wistful and filled with longing.

Angel would probably say that it sounds like Beau reaching out to Paige and me.

But I know that once someone is gone…they’re gone.

I feel like I understand this man who Paige loved a little more.

I definitely understand Paige better, and that’s what matters. I hope that this is helping her.

“May I nuzzle you?” She unexpectedly asks.

No one has asked me that.

I freeze.

I thought that they never would.

Isn’t it Angel’s job to do soft things like this?

I clench and unclench my hands.

I don’t expect the wave of longing that hits me — the simple need for this Omega’s touch.

“Yes,” I manage to get out.

Paige wipes at her eyes, edging toward me. She half-sits in my lap, attempting to reach up to nuzzle at my neck.

I move to sit with my legs out, before I wrap my arms around Paige’s waist and pull her to sit more firmly on my lap to give her better access to my neck.

Then she nuzzles against my throat, scenting me.

Her blackberry scent hits me more powerfully.

I shiver.

I’m growing used to it now.

I rub my chin against the top of her head.

I hope that my clothes become covered in her scent too.

We sit for the length of the entire record in nuzzling silence.