Chapter 22
IVAN
Something’s off with Maeve.
That week in the cabin was the best of my life—scenting and helping her through her Heat.
Having her splayed out naked before me, trusting me to take care of her, solidified the truth inside my soul.
She’s my scent match, but beyond that, my soulmate.
I love her, dearly.
But something has been wrong, even if she won’t admit it.
It’s been a week since she fought with her brother—and I heard the gist of it from Piper, since Maeve doesn’t want to talk about it.
She brushes it off when I ask her about it, but something that Avery said resonated with her, and now we’re putting the move into Logan’s packhouse on hold.
It’s fine—we can move at whatever pace she wants, and if me, Logan, and Fang have to end up cramped and crashing on her couch for the time being, so be it.
Being away from her aches way more than a stiff back.
Fang notices something is off, and so does Logan.
But I’m the one that’s known her longest, so I do my best to approach the topic.
It’s been a week since she’s been back at work, and despite her smiles, her eyes aren’t as bright as they used to be.
Even her scent, blossoming sweet chamomile, has slightly faded.
“Thoughts on chapter fifteen?” I ask her quietly, stroking her hair. She lays her head on my chest, breathing softly.
We both have the day off. Logan and Fang won’t be around until later tonight, so it’s just her and me for now, lounging in her bed, cuddling in the nest of blankets.
She shivers and drapes a blanket over herself, covering everything but her face. “I don’t know,” she mumbles. “I couldn’t really get into it.”
“Hmm. Not even when they found the cat with the murder weapon?” I tease, and she snorts softly.
“Yeah, okay. It was cheesy.”
I lightly tug on her purple hair, which is fading to a gold. Usually, she dyes her hair every week, but she hasn’t since we’ve been back.
It’s just as pretty, but it’s another indicator that she’s not feeling like herself.
“Do you want to stop this book? We could start another. Or take a break from the book club.”
That gets her to sit up and look at me incredulously. “What? No. Book club is great. It’s amazing, just like purr parties or kitten therapy. I don’t want to stop any of that.”
I cup her cheek, and she winces at my caress. “Then do you want to tell me what’s going on?”
She swallows. “I don’t know how to word it,” she admits.
“Try.”
Her eyes glaze over, and when she speaks again, it’s with heavy sadness.
“I…can’t.”
“If you don’t talk to me, I won’t be able to—”
“And you don’t have to, Ivan.” It’s the first time she’s snapped at me, and it takes both of us by surprise. “You don’t have to make everything better all the time.”
“I make everything better?” I joke, and she huffs.
“Sometimes.” She positions herself back on my chest and buries her face in it, so I can’t see her eyes. Her scent begins to sour with acidic lemon.
I want to fix it.
When she’s in my arms and I don’t have answers, the helplessness makes my head spin.
“Can you read to me?” she murmurs, her voice muffled. “Can you reread chapter fifteen?”
“Yeah, sweetheart. I can do that.”
I keep my voice low and hushed, purposely emphasizing the ridiculous part where the revolver is found in the cat tree.
It is Purrder in the First Degree, after all.
But there’s no response from Maeve, just silence. No chuckles, no muffled laughter, nothing.
And that sour scent fills the room until she’s more acid than sugar.
Even when I purr for her, there’s no reaction.
I carry on to the next chapter, then the next, a sinking feeling in my chest.
I want to fix this. There has to be a way to fix this.
The sun is setting by the time she speaks.
“I think something bad is going to happen,” she says in a small, muffled voice.
I put the book down next to her head and gently tilt her face up. Her eyes are wet with unshed tears, and her cheeks are red.
“Nothing bad is going to happen,” I assure her.
“I’m scared. I’m really scared, Ivan.”
“It’s okay to be scared, baby, but unless you have proof—”
“It’s a feeling,” she admits shamefully. “Another feeling that I can’t let go of.”
I continue to stroke her hair. “What can I do?”
“I don’t know,” she whispers. “Something just seems wrong.”
“I can call Fang, see when he’s coming over—”
“No.” She shakes her head. “No, I don’t want that.”
Her voice, usually so bright and full of energy, is monotone.
I begin to worry.
“Tell me what to do,” I insist. “Tell me what I can do, baby. I’m here.”
I need an answer. I need a way to fix whatever is happening as Maeve quietly crumbles in my arms.
“Just keep reading,” she says into my shirt. “And just you, tonight. I don’t want Fang or Logan here.”
An alarm goes off in my head.
It hasn’t been a month since the scent match, and up until her fight with Avery, she’s been craving me, Fang, and Logan.
Whatever they talked about activated something in her that I can’t address, and now she seems to be shutting down.
“Let’s fluff up your nest, at least,” I say carefully. “Let’s try some of those new blankets you got.”
When I surprised her with them, she squealed and threw herself into my arms, laughing delightedly.
With a huff, she rolls off me and allows me to pluck her from the bed and place her in her desk chair.
It takes a few minutes, and I sense her eyes on me as I change her sheets, fluff her pillows, and pile on some new nesting blankets, each with a high thread count.
Once I’m done, her nest is cozy and welcoming. Without a word, I carry her back and situate us so her head is back on my chest.
“Another chapter?” I ask her softly.
“Yeah,” she whispers.
I read until she eventually falls asleep, a slight crease in her brow while she slumbers. I try to smooth it away, but it doesn’t fade.
I shoot a quick text to Fang and Logan and spend the rest of the night observing the tiny frown on Maeve’s face.
When I finally fall asleep, my dreams are distorted and anxiety ridden.
My Omega, my love, is hurting, and I’ve never felt more helpless.
We have different schedules, so we don’t drive together. Instead, we each take our separate cars, so Maeve doesn’t have to wait a few extra hours for a ride home.
“Sorry about last night,” she says in the parking lot. “I don’t know what was going on with me.”
Her eyes have some of their usual spark back, but the acid in her scent is still there.
She’s lemons and chamomile. Still delicious, but not pure Maeve.
“Is that bad feeling still there?” I ask, holding open the door to the rescue for her.
She shrugs. “Yeah,” she admits. “I’ve had these thoughts before, though. It used to be when I was little, with Avery. I would worry something bad would happen to him, and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. That sensation is back.”
“I’m sorry, babe. That sounds awful.”
“It was. It is. I don’t know why this is happening.”
“I can stay with you for a bit, if you want. My shift isn’t starting for another fifteen minutes. I could help with—”
“No, that’s fine,” she says, smiling softly. “I can busy myself with refilling food bowls or something. Or kitten therapy.”
“There’s always time for kitten therapy,” a voice says, and Piper enters from the back, smiling. “We have three vocal tabby brothers that could use some snuggles, Maeve. I can handle everything up here.”
“Getting paid to cuddle kittens,” I sigh. “I wish.”
“You get paid to save kittens,” Piper reminds me. “And as a result, said kittens get cuddles.”
“I’ll be back,” Maeve says softly, her smile a little too forced. My heart sinks when she enters the cat playroom and shuts the door behind her.
Blair enters from the back, nodding at me in acknowledgment. “Have you two seen Alvin?” she asks, frowning. “I haven’t seen him in a bit.”
“Not since this morning,” Piper says easily. “Probably napping somewhere.”
“Probably,” Blair nods. “Still, keep an eye out. He’s not in the back.”
This wouldn’t be the first time Alvin has gone missing. Usually, he’s found a new place to perch, a box to hide in, or an almost invisible space to crawl through.
I glance at the kitten playroom, where Maeve sits in the far corner on a chair. Three small kittens are cuddled close to her chest, and her eyes are closed as she breathes deeply.
I catch Piper watching her, worrying her lip.
“Can I talk to you?” I blurt, before I lose my nerve. “I have a few minutes before my shift.”
I want some clarification about what happened with Avery and Maeve. Piper has known Maeve longer, and I’ll take any other perspective I can on my scent match.
Fang and Logan are both worried after she canceled the plans last night, and I’m hoping to have some answers for them.
Apparently, Piper knows exactly what I’m referring to, because she nods. “Absolutely. You want to go outside?”
“I’ll be up here,” Blair says. “And I can distract Maeve if she gets nosy.”
But one more glance to Maeve, her back turned to me, and I can see how disconnected she is from everything else but the kittens.
I doubt she’ll even notice we stepped out of the building.
“Sounds good,” I say, holding the exit door open for Piper. She leads me to the far side of the strip mall, away from the window that Maeve could potentially see us from.
I don’t think she has any intention of spying, though. She was lost in a trance, breathing slowly and deeply with the kittens pressed to her chest.
But that little crease was still in her brow, the one I just couldn’t smooth out.
My stomach sours.
“You want to tell me what’s going on with her?” Piper asks once we’re out of earshot, and I raise an eyebrow.
“I was hoping you would tell me. What happened with her brother? Because suddenly, we’re not moving into the packhouse anymore.
Everything is slowing down; which I’m fine with.
” I point to my chest. “I’m happy with whatever she wants, Fang is impatient but understands, and Logan is just confused.
And none of those changes happened until she talked with your mate. ”