Chapter 4 Your Friend Is Coming?

Aria's POV

"I..." The word caught in my throat, and I felt heat creeping up my neck again.

What was I supposed to say? That yes, some inexplicable part of me wanted him to stay?

Lorenzo's lips curved into a gentle smile. "Don't stress about it. I understand." He shifted carefully in his chair, wincing as the movement pulled at his injuries. "I'll be out of your hair soon enough. I really can't thank you enough for taking me in. Seriously, I owe you a lot."

My inner wolf whimpered at his words, a sound of distress I couldn't quite understand.

I watched as he gripped the edge of the table, his knuckles white with the effort of staying upright, and felt that strange tug in my chest again.

The rational part of my brain knew I should be relieved he was leaving. But the flutter in my stomach when he looked at me, the way his presence seemed to fill all the empty spaces in my small apartment... none of that was rational.

I managed, my voice steadier than I felt, "Anyone would have done the same thing."

"No," Lorenzo said quietly, his eyes holding mine. "Not everyone would have risked their safety for a bleeding stranger. You have a good heart, Aria."

Before I could respond to the warmth in his voice, he was already pushing himself to his feet, moving toward our empty bowls with determined purpose.

"Let me at least clean up," he said, reaching for the dishes. "It's the least I can do."

"No!" I jumped up so quickly my chair scraped against the floor. "You can barely stand. You shouldn't be moving around."

"I'm fine," he insisted, though the tremor in his hands told a different story.

I moved to block his path to the sink, my hands hovering uncertainly near his arms. "Lorenzo, please. Just sit down."

Lorenzo said, "I can-"

"You can barely handle standing up!" I retorted, my frustration growing.

We stood there for a moment, locked in a stubborn standoff in the narrow space between the table and counter. His jaw was set with determination, but I could see the exhaustion pulling at his features, the way he had to concentrate just to keep his breathing steady.

"At least let me help," I said, reaching for one of the bowls.

That's when it happened. In the cramped space of my tiny kitchen, our movements collided. Lorenzo stepped forward at the same moment I moved to grab the bowl from his hands.

My foot caught against his, and we were both off-balance, stumbling backward toward the living room.

Time seemed to slow as we fell, Lorenzo's arms instinctively wrapping around me to break my fall.

We crashed onto the couch with a soft thud, Lorenzo taking the brunt of the impact as he landed on his back with me sprawled on top of him.

For a heartbeat, neither of us moved. I was acutely aware of every point where our bodies touched—my hands braced against his chest, his arms still circling my waist, the way our legs had tangled together.

His scent wrapped around me like a warm blanket, stronger now with our proximity, and I could feel the rapid rise and fall of his breathing beneath my palms.

My eyes went wide as I stared down at him, my face probably burning crimson with embarrassment. This close, I could see every detail of his face—the sharp line of his jaw, the way his dark lashes framed those impossibly blue eyes, the small scar near his temple that I hadn't noticed before.

Lorenzo's throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, his gaze flickering between my eyes and my lips. The air between us felt charged, electric, like the moment before lightning strikes.

Then his face twisted in pain, a sharp gasp escaping his lips as his body went rigid beneath mine.

"Oh Moon God!" I scrambled off him immediately, my heart racing for entirely different reasons now. "I'm so sorry! Did I hurt you? Are you okay?"

Lorenzo's hand pressed against his side where the largest wound was, his breathing shallow and labored. When I looked closer, I could see fresh blood seeping through the fabric of his shirt.

"The bandages must have shifted," I said, my hands already reaching for him before I caught myself. "Can I...?"

He nodded, his face pale, and I carefully helped him sit up. My fingers trembled slightly as I lifted the edge of his shirt, revealing the bandages underneath.

Sure enough, the careful wrapping had come loose, and the wound had reopened.

"This is all my fault," I whispered, guilt washing over me as I examined the damage. "I should have been more careful. You need fresh bandages."

"It's not that bad," Lorenzo tried to say, but his voice was strained.

"Don't lie to me." I was already moving toward my medical supplies. "Just stay still."

I worked quickly and efficiently, cleaning the blood and rewrapping the wound with steady hands despite the guilt churning in my stomach.

Lorenzo watched me silently, his breathing gradually evening out as my healing pheromones unconsciously responded to his distress.

"There," I said softly when I finished, securing the last of the bandages. "That should hold better."

"Thank you," he murmured, and there was something in his voice that made me look up at him. His expression was unreadable, but intense in a way that made my pulse quicken.

Feeling suddenly self-conscious, I stepped back and began cleaning up the medical supplies. "I should... I'll just do these dishes and give you some space to rest."

I escaped to the kitchen, my hands unsteady as I scrubbed the bowls with more force than necessary. The guilt was eating at me—not just for reopening his wound, but for the way my body had responded to being pressed against his, for the part of me that had wanted to stay in his arms even when I knew I should move.

When I finally returned to the living room, Lorenzo was lying back on the couch, his eyes closed but his breathing suggesting he wasn't actually asleep. I saw him glance toward the spot on the table where my phone lay.

"Trying to call your friend again?" I asked quietly, picking it up and handing it to him.

He opened his eyes and nodded, sitting up with careful movements. This time, when he dialed, I heard a voice answer on the other end.

"Nathan? Thank God." Lorenzo's whole body seemed to sag with relief. "I need you to pick me up. Yeah, I'm okay, but I need a ride." There was a pause as he listened. "I'll text you the address. How soon can you be here?"

Another pause, then Lorenzo's expression grew more serious. His eyes flicked to me briefly. "I'll explain later. Just get here as soon as you can."

He ended the call and immediately started typing out a text message.

"Your friend is coming?" I asked, trying to ignore the hollow feeling that was growing in my chest.

"Yeah." Lorenzo sent the text and set my phone aside. "Nathan will be here in about twenty minutes. I'll be out of your way soon, and you can get back to your normal life."

"Right," I said, forcing a smile. "That's... that's good. You'll be more comfortable with your own pack."

When the knock came at the door twenty minutes later, my stomach dropped despite knowing it was coming.

"That'll be Nathan," Lorenzo said, moving to stand.

I opened the door to find a tall, imposing figure filling the doorframe.

Nathan was... striking. His skin was a warm, sun-kissed bronze.

Deep brown eyes assessed me with quick intelligence before softening into something approaching a smile.

His shoulders were broad, and despite the obvious strength in his build, there was something gentle in the way he carried himself.

"You must be Aria," he said. "I'm Nathan Brooks." He extended a hand, and when I shook it, his grip was firm but respectful. "I can't thank you enough for taking care of this idiot."

"Hey," Lorenzo protested weakly from behind me, though there was fondness in his voice.

Nathan's gaze moved past me to assess Lorenzo's condition, and I saw his expression tighten with concern. "You look like hell, man."

"Feel worse than I look," Lorenzo admitted, accepting Nathan's offered arm for support.

As they prepared to leave, Lorenzo turned to me one last time. "Before I go—can I get your number? I want to repay you for this somehow. If you ever need anything, anything at all, I want you to be able to call me."

I hesitated for a moment. "How should I give it to you?"

Lorenzo looked at Nathan, who pulled out his phone. Lorenzo then turned back to me. "I'll save it on my friend's phone for now. Once I get back to my phone, I'll give you a call." I carefully typed in my number, creating a new contact before handing the phone back to him.

"There," he said, his voice low as he looked at the screen. "Thank you. I'll be in touch to repay you properly."

"Take care of yourself, Aria."

And then they were gone, Nathan supporting Lorenzo's weight as they made their way down the narrow staircase. I stood in my doorway until I heard the sound of a car engine starting and driving away.

The silence that followed felt deafening.

I closed the door and leaned against it, my apartment suddenly feeling enormous and empty despite being exactly the same size it had been that morning.

For reasons I couldn't explain, I felt like crying.

The couch still held the impression of Lorenzo's body, and his scent lingered faintly in the air—that warm combination of cedar and something uniquely him that made my wolf whine softly in the back of my mind.

But the hollowness in my chest suggested that everything was not exactly as it should be.