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His eyes lift.

“That doesn’t mean you get to do it again.”

A rough breath leaves him. “I won’t.”

I hold out my hand.

Theo looks at it for one second before coming to me. “I chose to protect you both, but I chose the wrong threat. Not trusting you with the truth was a mistake.”

The words press against the place I have been trying not to touch.

“I know you feel the bond between us forming, but we still get to make choices,” I say. “Earlier tonight, when I got in your lap, that was my instincts choosing to comfort my alpha.”

His eyes shine.

I keep going because stopping would turn this into a thing swallowed for the sake of someone else. “It feels like you took that comfort and what we’re building, and instead of leaning into it, you gave into your fear.”

Theo’s scent caves inward and he lowers himself to the floor. For one second, I think he has dropped because grief took his knees. Then I realize he’s kneeling deliberately, big hands open on his thighs, head tipped up to me. The position strips the height from him. It leaves his shoulders broad, his chest bare in the loose, cut-up T-shirt he changed into, his beard shadowing his mouth, his hazel eyes wrecked and steady.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “For leaving. For not waking you when the message came. For making my fear the deciding factor.”

My fingers tighten on the chair. “How am I supposed to trust that you won’t do that again?”

“It won’t be an easy fix, but you deserve a partner.” He draws in a slow breath. “I’m going to want to move first. Decide first. Put my body between the threat and both of you before I ask what either of you wants. I know that about myself. Tonight proved that.”

My throat hurts. “What happens next time you think we’re in danger?”

“I wake you.” His voice thickens. “I show you the message. I call Wes with you standing there. I ask Ezra what he wants before I make him the reason for my choice. If my alpha is too loud, I put the phone in your hand and sit down until I can hear you.”

The answer is exactly what I asked for without knowing how to ask. Can I trust him to deliver when the time comes?

I don’t know the answer. But I know I want to be able to trust him. I leave the chair and sink to the floor in front of him. His breath hitches.

I crawl into his lap slowly, giving both of us time to understand my choice. His hands hover near my hips, waiting. The waiting nearly undoes me.

“You can touch me,” I say.

He catches me with a sound low in his chest, not a growl, not quite a purr. His palms settle at my waist, firm and grounding. It feels as if all my instincts exhale at once. I press my knees into the floor on either side of him and cup his face.

“I won’t tolerate being shut out,” I tell him. “I may be an omega and sweet most days. I like snacks, puzzles, obscure facts, stickers, and sitting in your lap. None of that makes me incapable of doing hard things when life gets ugly.”

His eyes close for half a breath.

“I know how strong you are,” he says, then catches himself. “No. I’m learning how strong you are. How brave, adorable, and brilliant. That you can be bossy when needed. Tender when people haven’t earned it. I want the woman who makes notes in graveyards and the omega who purrs even while furious at me because our beta needed her. I want the girl who lit up over a frog sticker on a helmet after spending half the day proving a town’s history wrong.”

My eyes burn.

Theo’s thumbs move once along my waist. “You’re not here because you help Ezra. I love what you do for him because I love him. And I’m grateful you’re able to give me so much comfort. But I want you when you’re tired and mad and covered in mud. I want you when you have no answer. I want you at my table, on my porch, in my bed, on the back of my bike, and in every ordinary hour we might have in the future. One I nearly ruined tonight. If you let me prove it to you, I won’t fail you again.”

Something warm and aching opens beneath my sternum. I ignore the truth in my head and focus on his mouth, his hands, the tremble he cannot fully hide.

“You don’t get to call this love yet,” I whisper.

“No. But it’s becoming.” His forehead touches mine.

“Yes.”

My scent blooms around us, peppermint bright through the rosemary, vanilla warm enough to make his hands flex. His purr answers, low and rough. My omega recognizes the need in him and the care he is trying to learn how to offer without letting it swallow us all.