The Awakening — Episode 8

He asked. I couldn't speak. He looked down at me. Maybe you should try getting to know me. My heart skipped. What? You heard me. His thumb was still there. No pressure. No movement. Just waiting. For me to pull away. Or for me not to. I ended up bolting, told him something came up, And I had to leave right away. He just nodded, moved the pan off the heat, and

Back in the guest room, reality hit me. I was reading into things. Obviously. There's no way Kale Mercer meant it like that. And even if he did lean in, that was just alpha instinct, not about me. I started packing up my stuff, walking past his bedroom in the hallway. The door was cracked open. I wasn't going to look. But the scarf was right there, draped over the

back of a chair, cream white. A small cluster of dark gray fringe at the ends. I stopped. That was my scarf. My mom made it. I left it in the library last winter. Went back the next day and it was gone. I'd been upset about it for a long time. I pushed the door open and walked picked it up. The wool had been washed, soft and clean. There was a small snag on the inside. I'd

accidentally pulled a thread. Someone had carefully mended it with matching thread. How did this? A thought surfaced. Quiet. Did he? I shut it down immediately. Don't go there, Nora. You You already fell for a bastard once. To guys like them, you're nothing.

I hesitated, then put the scarf back on the chair. I'd find the right time to ask for it back later. Downstairs, breakfast was already set out. All my favorites.