Chapter 22 #2
Piper chews the inside of her cheek. “Avery worries for her,” she says. “He’s always worried for her.”
“Yeah, and Maeve worries about him, too. Do you know what he said to her?”
“Kind of.” She plays with a lock of her dark hair, twirling it absentmindedly around her fingers.
Piper smells like catmint, a little citrus with a hint of mint.
It’s not an unpleasant scent, but it still makes me long for Maeve.
“After they talked, Maeve was crying. She asked me if I thought she was doing the right thing by moving in with you three.”
“And what did you say?”
“I said I was happy she was accepting what the world offers her, and I would try to talk some sense into Avery.”
“I think the damage is already done,” I mutter. “She’s stuck in her head, and I can’t get her out.”
Piper looks thoughtful. “It’s not your job to get her out of it,” she says. “That’s up to her, and she knows it.”
I shift on my feet, sighing. The overwhelming urge to help her stays in my mind.
Take care of Omega.
My scent match is suffering; I’m watching it happen right in front of me.
There has to be something I can do.
“She said she felt like something bad was going to happen,” I add. “She couldn’t explain what it was, and whenever I tried to talk to her, she would just shut down more.”
Piper sighs. “Before you were in the picture, there were some dark days,” she admits.
“She finally told Blair and me that sometimes she goes to a bad place in her mind. I know working at the rescue and the cats have helped, but you have made the most difference for her. Then Logan and Fang came along, and she’s been happier than I’ve ever seen her. ”
“Until her talk with Avery,” I growl.
“How much do you know about her past?” Piper’s question is soft. “I’m sure she’s told you some things about her and Avery’s dynamic.”
I nod. “He basically raised her.”
“That house…” Piper swallows. “Avery told me what they went through in that house. He protected Maeve and his sister from most of it, but Maeve was the youngest, and the most sensitive. Maeve was neglected by her parents, and Avery took on the role of parent. The other sister left as soon as she could, and Avery could have, if he wanted. But he stayed behind for Maeve.”
“I know. She’s told me stories.”
Maeve has told me about the nightmares she used to have, where she would wake up in her apartment and not remember where she was.
She also told me that the horrible dreams have stopped since we scent matched.
Did she lie?
Has she woken up terrified when I’ve been asleep next to her and not bothered to tell me?
Has it happened around Fang and Logan?
“If you try thinking about it from Avery’s perspective, he’s just concerned. He knows how deeply Maeve feels things,” she adds. “The age gap with Logan doesn’t help, and the fact that Fang started out as her guitar teacher—”
“But they scent matched—”
“I know that.” Piper holds out her hands in surrender. “Believe me, I know. But it doesn’t stop Avery from being concerned. And frankly, it shouldn’t. He would be a crappy brother if he didn’t have some questions.”
“Ugh. You’re right,” I huff.
“You have sisters,” Piper adds with a quirked lip. “I’m sure you’ve played the role of protective sibling.”
“More than once,” I admit, running my hand through my hair. “I’ve…uh…vetted all their boyfriends.”
“Yeah, exactly.” She gives me a pointed look. “Like I said, Maeve is sensitive. Avery is sensitive and protective. She wanted his seal of approval, and she didn’t get it. So, she’s processing all of that.”
“I hate that you’re right. I came out here to be angry at your packmate,” I admit. “I was going to tell you to talk some sense into him.”
“Avery’s the most sensical of my entire pack,” Piper laughs. “So, I can’t help you out with that. As for Maeve thinking something bad is going to happen, I don’t have anything to say about that.” She shrugs. “I’m not a fan of self-fulfilling prophecies, though.”
“I mean, do you have any advice? You’re her best friend.”
“Just be there for her, which you’re already doing. And know that it’s not your job to fix what’s going on inside your Omega’s head.”
“It is, though,” I argue, which only makes Piper grin.
“Nah. It’s not. But it’s sweet that you think so. Maybe you should think about why you think that.”
“Is there a reason you’re so full of psychological advice?” I sigh.
“Dude, I went no contact with my parents. All I’ve done is go to therapy since then,” she laughs. “My nest half the time is filled with self-help books and cat shaped stress balls. Look into getting her some.”
I blow out a slow breath.
“She’s going to be okay, Ivan,” Piper says. “No matter what.”
“Yeah, I know.”
Yet her scent still lingers, the acidic aroma of her unease.
There’s a sudden screeching of car tires, and Piper and I both jerk our head at the sound. “Who the hell is that?” she asks.
“I have no idea,” I frown.
“It’s never that serious to drive like that,” Piper murmurs. “Come on, let’s go back and check on your girl. You can give her a hug.”
But as we head back into the building, I suddenly have a bad feeling.
Maeve’s scent is at the front desk, but it’s muted and burnt, as if someone lit a bouquet on fire.
It’s never smelled like that, ever.
The cat playroom is devoid of humans, only full of kittens running around and tussling.
“Uh, where is everyone?” Piper says. “Blair? Maeve? Alvin?”
“Piper, honey, is that you?” Mari rushes in from the back, her face flushed. “Oh, it was bad.”
My pulse races.
“What was bad?” I demand. “Did something happen?”
“Alvin is with Logan right now.” Mari wipes at her eyes, and my stomach sinks. “He swallowed a string.”
“Oh, no,” Piper whispers, while I scowl.
Cats love to eat anything they’re not supposed to. But Alvin is with Logan, and I’m confident he’s in good hands.
“He’s going to be okay, though,” Mari adds quickly, pointing at her eyes. “I’m not crying because of Alvin. I’m crying because of our poor Maeve.”
“What happened?” I ask, my stomach sinking.
“That poor girl, Ivan. She’s so sensitive, so sweet, and the horror that was on her face…” Mari sniffles. “It broke my heart.”
“Is she still at the clinic?” Piper asks, while my anxiety grows.
That scent is wrong.
It’s Maeve, but it’s so warped, twisted, and disjointed…
It’s the scent of her sorrow.
Blair enters behind us, pulling open the door. “Alvin is okay, before anyone asks,” she says quickly. “It’s Maeve who’s not. I sent her home.” She turns to me apologetically. “She said she wants to be left alone, and we need to honor her wishes.”
“What? No,” I murmur, checking my phone.
Sure enough, there is a text from Maeve, one sentence that makes my heart ache.
I need some space.