Chapter 15 #3
She hesitates, then gives a small, exhausted nod. “Rest sounds… good, actually. If you don’t mind driving me.”
Mind? I’d drive through a goddamn blizzard barefoot if she asked me to.
I grab her purse from the laundry room while she tugs on her boots, sleeves pushed up, looking adorable and hot at the same time.
The second she’s in the passenger seat, the air feels lighter. Driving with her knowing she’s safe right next to me feels easy. Almost enjoyable. For the first time in years, the road doesn’t feel like a threat.
The rain simmers down to only a drizzle as she guides me toward her street, and when I pull up outside the old brick building on Maple, my stomach drops.
Of course. Of-fucking-course she lives in the Wells’ building.
I kill the engine while she stares up at the windows.
“I’ll walk you up to your place,” I say, and before she can protest, I hurry out and round the car, opening the door for her. She takes my hand and lets me pull her up.
When we step inside the building, the faint smell hits me like a memory I’d rather burn than relive. The elevator creaks its way up, and when the doors slide open to the second floor, she steps out ahead of me, fumbling with her purse for her keys.
My gaze drifts down the hallway as I follow her. Of all the units in this town, of all the apartments she could have ended up in, she’s somehow right next to his.
She finally gets the key in the lock, pushes open her door, and walks straight in with her boots on, smiling over her shoulder at me. “Come inside for a minute? I’ve got something for you.”
My heart skips a beat as I step into her apartment, frowning at the faint wet prints she’s leaving on the bare floors. I move my gaze away from them, not wanting to fixate, and take a look around.
It’s empty. Completely, echoingly empty.
Glimpsing into the bedroom, I can see a mattress on the floor, two suitcases, and clothes spilled all over the place.
It seems my soulmate is a little messy.
I can live with that.
“I guess your furniture is still in transit?” I ask, already calculating which of my guest rooms has the best light, the most comfortable bed, the closest proximity to mine. “You’re staying with me until it gets here. I have four guest rooms that look like hotel suites compared to… this.”
She shrugs and looks almost amused. “Nothing’s coming. My stuff’s in a storage unit in Boston. I’ll pick up a few things while I’m here.”
The words hit me like a slap.
While I’m here.
“You’re not planning to stay?”
Those haunting, light-blue eyes lock me in place for a long beat before she releases me and lifts a shoulder. “I haven’t decided yet.”
You will. You’ll decide the second I get my hands on you properly, and if you decide to leave anyway, that’s fine. I’ll simply follow you.
She walks into the kitchen and comes back with a muffin in her hand, holding it out to me as if it’s something precious. “Here. For patching me up.”
It’s a perfect, innocent blueberry muffin. I stare at it and have to swallow down the full-body shudder that wants to overtake me, then take it with a forced, “Thank you.”
“What?” She catches my expression and laughs. “Not into sweets?”
“I’m… not a dessert person.” Understatement of the century.
“I like a challenge. I’ll figure out what you actually like,” she promises, reaching to take the muffin back.
I pull it out of reach on pure instinct. “I’m keeping it.”
Her mouth twitches. “That’s… so not weird.”
Christ, I want to kiss that smirk off her face.
Instead, I glance around the barren apartment one more time and make a silent vow. This is getting fixed, starting with a bed frame and dresser for her clothes.
“So… what now?” she asks, exhaustion lacing her voice.
“Now, I’m gonna go make sure the inn is covered tonight.”
“Can I… give you my number?” She bites her lip nervously. “Just in case you can’t find anyone, and I need to come in after all?”
The smile that takes over my face feels too big.
“I want your number anyway, Lennon.” I pull my phone out, unlock it, and hand it over. “You only beat me to asking.”
She blushes the prettiest pink, then types quickly and hands me the phone back.
Lennon Maes. God, that sounds beautiful.
“I’ll text you.” Stepping in, I lean down slowly and press a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth, just beside that beauty mark, close enough to feel her inhale.
Then I straighten, memorize the way she looks in the dim entry light—bare legs, my hoodie, wide, light blue eyes—and walk out before I do something stupid like throw her over my shoulder and carry her home for good.
The second the door clicks shut behind me, I’m grinning like a lunatic. I jog down the stairs, slide into the driver’s seat, and let a low, triumphant laugh rip out of me.
I found her. And I didn’t murder her.
I make the call before I start the car, and Renée picks up on the second ring.
“Paul? Everything okay?”
“Everything’s perfect.” I’m still grinning so hard at the muffin in my hand, my face hurts. “Tell me you’re free tonight, because I’ve got a favor to ask. And Renée?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m cashing in every single one you owe me.”