Omega's Wish (Fairhaven Academy Book 1) by Cara Bryant

Author:Cara Bryant [Bryant, Cara]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-08-09T05:00:00+00:00

The picnic is an unmitigated disaster, but seeing Luca again is pure perfection.

I text him as I’m stirring sugar into water and lemon juice. <<Meet me at the bridge?>> and then <<Please?>>

Three little dots appear immediately and then fade away. I hold my breath until they return, until his message comes through with a chime.

<<Ten minutes?>>

Fifteen would be better, but I’m so fucking glad that he’s agreed to meet up that I quickly type out my agreement. I assemble and wrap up the sandwiches as quickly as I can and then pack up everything into a picnic basket I find in one of the lower cupboards in the pantry.

I practically run to the bridge, the basket banging against my leg with every step, but I don’t care, not once I catch the afternoon sun lighting his blond hair like a halo. I set the basket down and sprint straight through the barrier and right into his arms.

He trembles as he slowly wraps his arms around me, tentatively like he can’t believe I’m here with him. Hot tears spill from my eyes and soak his shirt, but I only cling to him more tightly. I nuzzle against him, taking in the wine and cherries scent I’ve missed so desperately.

“Princess…” he chokes out. “I didn’t see you around all week. I thought… I thought you were hurt or sick or that… that you’d left Fairhaven.”

“My heat,” I murmur. “I should have told you, but after last Saturday… Luca, I have to tell you something and I made us a terrible picnic but just for now—”

His arms tighten around me, and I feel his hard swallow. “Yes, saints, yes.” He strokes one hand through my hair, the other up and down my back, long, slow touches that have me melting against him. He holds me until my tears stop, then sighs. “You’re okay. I’m so fucking relieved.”

“I’m so sorry, Luca. Please, I’ll do anything to make it up to you.”

“Junie, you don’t have to do anything, I swear.”

I reluctantly ease from his arms. “At least let me make up for the picnic?”

He looks over my shoulder at the picnic basket, a faint smile brightening his tired face. “You didn’t have to do this. But, yeah, let’s have a picnic.”

I collect the basket and stare down at it. “I forgot a blanket. And plates. And cups.”

“We’ll make do. I’m sure it’s all fantastic.”

We settle down on the bridge on his side of the barrier, our knees brushing, and I set out our picnic. I unwrap the sandwiches and set them carefully down on their waxed paper, unwind the tea towel from around the still-warm cookies, and pop the lid off the container of the pasta salad. Finally, I brandish the bottle of lemonade and two forks.

“Princess, this looks amazing.”

I push the container of pasta salad and a fork toward him, and he takes an eager bite, only to immediately gag. He tries to hide it with a smile, but I see him cringe as he chews and then struggles to swallow.

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