Chapter 76 Lottie
Lottie
I pause in the doorway for a moment, the tray balanced carefully in my hands as I look at Patrick sleeping peacefully beneath the blankets.
My omega.
The thought settles warmly in my chest every single time it crosses my mind.
The room is dim, lit only by the gray light that filters through the curtains. It paints soft shadows across his face, highlighting the relaxed expression he only wears when he’s truly asleep. His hair is messy, curling in different directions from sleep, and one arm is tucked beneath the pillow while the other rests across the bed like he’d reached for me sometime during the night.
Or day.
Whatever time it was now.
A smile tugs at my lips.
He looks soft like this.
Comfortable.
Safe.
And I like knowing I’m the reason for at least some of that comfort.
I set the tray carefully on the dresser before climbing onto the bed beside him. The mattress dips under my weight, and Patrick makes a small sound in his sleep, brows furrowing faintly before he relaxes again.
Cute.
I brush my fingers lightly through his hair, smoothing the messy strands away from his forehead.
“Patrick,” I murmur softly.
He hums but doesn’t wake.
I chuckle under my breath and lean down closer.
“Babe,” I try again, quieter this time.
That gets a reaction.
His nose wrinkles slightly before his eyes flutter open slowly, unfocused at first until they land on me.
The moment they do, his entire expression softens.
And something in me melts immediately.
“There you are,” he murmurs sleepily, voice rough from sleep.
Warmth blooms in my chest.
“Here I am,” I reply, unable to stop smiling.
His gaze drifts past me toward the dresser.
“Is that food?”
I snort softly.
“Yes, glutton. It’s food.”
That finally earns me a more awake reaction. Patrick pushes himself upright slowly, blankets pooling around his waist as he blinks at me.
“When did you even make breakfast?” he asks.
I shrug.
“While you were passed out. Also, apparently, we both slept through your class.”
His eyes widen instantly.
“Oh, my god.”
I laugh as panic flashes across his face.
“Relax,” I say quickly. “Your students were already texting me asking if class was canceled. By the time I woke up, class would’ve already been over anyway.”
He groans dramatically and drops his face into his hands.
“I’ve never missed class before.”
I reach out, rubbing slow circles between his shoulder blades.
“You’ve also never been under this much stress before,” I point out gently. “Plus… we’ve had a busy couple of days. Or rather, months.”
A blush creeps across his cheeks immediately.
I grin.
“Very busy.”
“Lottie,” he whines, peeking at me through his fingers.
I laugh outright this time before standing and grabbing the tray.
“C’mon,” I say, settling it across our laps. “Eat before everything gets cold.”
The smell of bacon immediately fills the air, and Patrick practically melts at the sight of the plate.
“You made breakfast,” he says softly, sounding genuinely touched, as if I haven’t done this for him countless times now already.
“Technically breakfast for dinner,” I correct.
He ignores me completely.
“That’s really sweet.”
I shrug, suddenly feeling oddly shy under the way he’s looking at me.
“It was fast,” I mumble. “And you looked like you needed comfort food.”
His expression softens even more at that.
Then he leans forward without warning and presses a quick kiss to my cheek.
The contact sends that familiar spark skating across my skin.
“You take really good care of me,” he says quietly.
My chest tightens painfully with affection.
Always.
I always will.
Spring break doesn’t officially start until Sunday.
But it’s Saturday.
There’s no class.
And honestly—who’s going to stop us from leaving early?
That’s the exact argument I use on Patrick while he stands in the kitchen looking adorably conflicted, mug of tea cradled between his hands like it’s somehow helping him think more clearly.
“It would make more sense to leave tomorrow,” he says cautiously.
I grin.
“Or,” I counter, stepping closer, “we leave today and surprise them.”
His brows knit immediately.
“Lottie.”
The way he says my name already tells me he knows he’s losing this argument.
I wrap my arms loosely around his waist and lean down to look him in the eyes.
“Think about it,” I coax. “If we show up tomorrow, they’ll make this huge, dramatic event out of your arrival.”
His expression shifts instantly into alarm.
“Oh god.”
I laugh.
“Exactly.”
Because I know my family.
By now, Mom has probably planned enough food for an army, and Dad has likely spent the entire week preparing questions for Patrick about the MemorIES machine and neuroscience research.
If we arrive today?
We catch them off guard.
And I love ruining elaborate plans.
“Hehe.”
Patrick eyes me suspiciously. “That laugh means trouble.”
“It means fun,” I correct.
“It means chaos.”
I gasp dramatically. “You wound me.”
He snorts softly into his tea, but I can already see his resistance crumbling.
I grin wider.
“I can practically picture Mom’s face already,” I say, delighted just imagining it. “He’s gonna look like he’s having an aneurysm.”
Patrick laughs despite himself.
“And your dad?”
“Oh, he’ll probably short-circuit entirely,” I reply immediately. “Doesn’t matter that he already knew he’d meet you eventually. The moment he sees you in person? Gone. Speechless.”
Patrick flushes lightly at that, looking down into his mug.
I swear he still hasn’t adjusted to people reacting to him like that.
It’s cute.
And kind of baffling considering how brilliant he is.
I lean forward and kiss the corner of his mouth quickly before stepping back.
“I just have to swing by my dorm and pack some clothes,” I say casually.
That makes him blink.
“You still have stuff there?”
I laugh.
“Most of my stuff is still there,” I admit. “I only have a handful of things at your place.”
His cheeks pink slightly at the wording.
Your place.
As if he still isn’t used to the fact that I practically live here already.
The truth is… I don’t really want to be anywhere else anymore.
That realization sends a warm sensation running through me as I watch him standing there in his kitchen—our kitchen these days, honestly—with sleepy eyes and soft hair and one of my hoodies hanging off his frame.
Home.
That’s what he feels like.
And sometime during this break, I’m going to talk to him about it.
About moving in together officially.
Because I want this.
All of it.
I want to fall asleep beside him every night and wake up tangled together every morning. I want to cook with him, argue over groceries with him, steal kisses from him in passing like we’ve been together forever.
I don’t want another place to call home if he isn’t there, too.
The thought hits me so suddenly and so completely that it almost steals my breath.
Patrick notices immediately, of course.
His expression softens.
“What?” he asks quietly.
I smile at him.
Nothing guarded.
Nothing hesitant.
Just honest.
“Nothing,” I murmur. “I was just thinking how much I love you.”
The blush that spreads across his face is immediate.
And god—
I could spend the rest of my life making him look at me like that.