Chapter 18 #2
Once he hangs up, the smile on my face stays with me the entire walk home.
Since I’m not firing on all cylinders, I’m overly paranoid and end up backtracking and weaving in and out of shops.
As a last measure, I walk into the foyer of the block of units opposite where I’m staying, using their downstairs foyer to swap hoodies, put on a big pair of sunglasses, and hide my hair using a baseball cap.
It probably looks ridiculous, but after the past few days, I literally have zero fucks left.
Feeling better, or perhaps, feeling more hopeful no one is tailing me, I wait a few extra minutes before making a dash across the road. My hand is on the sensor, my code unlocking the door in record time.
Instantly, I feel safer. I’m planning out a late breakfast in the lift on the way up, completely distracted by how to have my eggs—poached or scrambled—but as the lift doors open, breakfast is the last of my worries.
My apartment door is wide open, and a very familiar-looking Alpha is standing, arms crossed, in the entry.
Husband number two, the Genoa Alpha who smells like warm cinnamon and sugar.
I seriously need to find out their names. Or maybe not.
His eyes—goddamn, they’re such a pretty green—are currently glaring at me. Still breathtaking, though. “Where the fuck have you been? We were about to start a fecking bloodbath.”
Cocking my head to the side, I wonder if I misunderstood what he said. I guess my face does the talking.
“Your door was wide open, and your place was empty. Clearly, it’s fucking alarming, considering it’s not yet fucking ten in the goddamn morning, and you should be in bed, being beaten and stabbed like you were!”
All the emotion on my face falls away. It takes a Herculean effort not to walk over and flatten him. “My door was not open. And what I do is of no concern to you. Who are you, by the way?”
“Don’t play cute, Tally,” he growls.
I poke my tongue out, biting down on it suggestively, fluttering my eyelashes at him. “You think I’m cute? Awww.”
He takes a step towards me, looking like he’s going to lock me away forever.
And the big, slightly gorgeous Alpha, whose cinnamon scent does wicked things to me, comes closer again.
I wait until he’s near enough for me to either kiss or kill before I dart under his arm, twisting and contorting, ending up where he was.
Except, before he can take another step, I slam the door in his face.
He’s obviously been inside for a while. The air is saturated with his mind-blowing scent, which makes it really hard to keep being so angry. The reason I’m pissed doesn't go away, but the actual emotion dissolves the longer I sniff the air.
He knocks on my door. Well, I assume it’s him.
“Go away. And stop letting yourself into my apartment. It’s a disgusting habit of yours and a complete invasion of my privacy.”
I thought the door was solid, but when I literally hear him chuckle like a villain, I seriously wonder. Leaving him still demanding entry, I snarl at the roses on my island before going into the spare bedroom to drop the parcel on the bed.
Except, the sliding panel doors to the closet are wide open, the shelves neatly placed on the floor, and a doorway cut open—straight to the apartment next door. Giving me the perfect framed view of Tynan, who’s standing, holding the little girl from last night.
“Tally! Tally! Tally… you’re back.”
She wiggles out of his arms and is sprinting towards me like a runaway train. I don’t keep track of her, my attention stolen by the look on Tynan’s face. And everyone else in the other apartment looking at me.
She slams into me, although since she’s such a shorty, it doesn’t knock me off my feet. Ignoring the others for now, I squat down, but she latches her arms around my neck, and I end up on my butt with her on my lap.
“Thank you. Thank you…” Her voice falls away as her emotions well up. Her breathing picks up, and she starts wheezing each time she exhales.
Pulling her around so she can see me, I keep my voice soft and steady. “You’re safe. Take a big, slow breath for me. Can you do that?”
I don’t wait for a response; I just start breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth, slow and steady.
The whites of her eyes grow impossibly bigger as panic sets in.
But I keep us going through the breathing exercises I was shown by a therapist once, even as she continues getting more and more scared.
Behind us, there’s a rush of people trying to get to her, and I throw my hand up to stop them all. It’s the last thing she needs. If she doesn’t do this herself, her memories will only get worse.
I’m not being cruel, I’m being kind. I don’t need to dip into my Omega side to know that. It’s a fact and nothing more.
“You can do it, Daisy. Slow and steady, like the brave girl you were last night. In. One, two, three. Out. One, two, three.” I overexaggerate each inhale and exhale, and she starts to follow the pattern I set, her panic abating.
“You want to come and help me make breakfast? It’s a bit late, I know, but I’m starving.
One more breath for me.” We both stand up, and I drop my arm around her shoulder, praising her bravery as I lead her into my kitchen.
Her hand doesn’t leave mine, and she keeps doing her breath work, but it’s also easy to see she’s fast getting her confidence back.
While I stand in front of the fridge, my head goes completely blank as I realize what the flipping hell I’m actually doing.
What they’ve done too—pushing their way into my life.
I start to freak out, wondering when it started.
Logically, it couldn’t have been before I arrived here.
Italy was a freaky coincidence. I think.
She tugs my arm, snapping me out of my spiraling thoughts. “My mam says tea and toast fixes everything. I like lots of sugar. Do you?”
I count backwards until I can smile at her without it looking like a grimace. “Aye. Lots of milk too.”
She starts getting everything we’ll need from the fridge, and I leave her to fill the kettle before flicking it on.
We work together next on getting the bread in the toaster.
Then she chooses our cups and finds the sugar and tea leaves for the pot while I get our plates out.
My hand grabs two, but I think it should be three.
For goodness’ sake, I have a kid in my house who I barely know.
If I was her mother, I’d be kicking doors in about now.
“Do you think we should ask your mam in?”
Daisy turns around, her movement and reactions big and bold. She literally slaps her own cheeks, her mouth popping open. “Really? She’d love that. She wants to give you a giant hug, she said. My uncles caught the guard too. Did you tell them? Wait…”
One moment, she’s by my side, the next, she’s racing away on heavy feet. I hear her excitement echoing through my home and can follow exactly where she is by her happy energy.
Normally I’d turn around and greet her, except it seems I’m no longer alone.