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There’s no way this is going to be so simple, but I know beyond a doubt that it will be worth whatever it takes to convince this woman she needs us in her life.
“You smell good,” she murmurs softly.
“That’s my perfume,” I admit, feeling it come out stronger with the compliment. “It comes out when I’m around my mates.”
She pulls back a little, rubbing at her eyes.
I let my grasp slacken, but I don’t let go completely.
“So, one of your mates are around?” she asks.
I get the feeling that telling her she’s one of them isn’t going to be helpful right now, so I nod slowly.
“Spencer’s waiting outside. I wasn’t sure you’d want to see him.”
“I don’t,” she says quickly, her skin flushing. “It’s not … I have a bad history with Alphas.”
Shit. I didn’t even think of that.
Betas usually find Alphas hard to resist.
“Well, he’ll stay away unless you change your mind.”
Though I should probably text him to make sure he doesn’t come looking for me to find out what’s taking so long. I did tell him I didn’t think she was home, right before I discovered I was wrong.
“I won’t change my mind.” She steps back, breaking our embrace. “You can come in, for a minute.”
I take the invitation while it’s extended, closing the door behind me.
“You look cold,” I admit.
She has her arms wrapped around her middle.
“I was … I was in the shower. I’ll grab a sweater.” She darts away, going into the other room.
“I used to live in one of these apartments,” I call out as I bring my phone out of my pocket.
I have a few messages from Spencer, asking me what’s happening.
I tell him she’s home and he’ll have to wait outside for me.
Then, I turn the phone off.
Looking around doesn’t tell me much about Leanne. Other than she hasn’t been here long, judging by the boxes that are laying around marked with room names. There are a few collapsed boxes stacked in a corner. It seems she hasn’t quite finished unpacking all her stuff.
She steps tentatively back into the living room in a thick black sweater, leaning against the doorframe as if she’s not sure about coming much closer.
“You lived in this block, or you lived in an apartment that looked exactly like this?”
“The second one,” I admit. “It wasn’t far from here, but it’s kind of spooky how they’re all based on the same design, right?”
“I can’t argue with you on that,” she says, giving me a wry smile. “Ryan’s apartment isn’t far from here either. That’s where he took me. Frank Palmer. It looked exactly like this.”
She crosses her arms again like she’s still cold.
I don’t think she is. I think she’s worn out from pretending everything’s fine, when clearly, it’s not.
She’s living in an apartment that’s a replica of the one she almost died in.
