Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Mia
"This place is huge, so we'll use the buddy system for the first few years until you get the lay of the land.
You and I will be buddies, and Zak and Spencer can be buddies.
" Freddie looks over his shoulder to smirk at Zak and Spencer while he makes this suggestion in a decent impression of an official tour guide.
I ignore the churning in my stomach when I imagine being forced to visit this house for years. Unfathomable. Unacceptable. Over my dead body.
Actually, now that I think about it, all that stone makes this house feel like the kind of place that could have a dungeon. Maybe I should have heeded my brother's warning about having a breather before I dove headfirst into embracing my newfound scent-matches.
Freddie opens the front door and gestures wildly with his free arm. “Welcome home,” he sings theatrically.
Home.
He has no idea how wrong that word feels.
Stepping into the house feels like being swallowed whole.
I'm not even being overdramatic, the foyer is literally a monstrous thing that makes me feel like I'm disappearing into the pit of its stomach.
Everything is shiny. The marble floors. The stark white paint on the walls.
The metal banister where a landing on the second floor overlooks the foyer.
I force a smile, not wanting to be weird when I've only just found my scent- matches.
The three of them are hot enough to make my heart race on sight, and they seem kind and attentive so far. I will not ruin this exciting day for all of us by telling them their house strikes me as a well-polished turd.
The rest of the house might be better. There's still hope.
Freddie guides me into a huge living room with stiff-looking furniture that looks like someone decorated out of a museum's furniture catalog instead of a residential furniture store. There's not a single comfortable-looking seat.
Freddie drops my arm so he can spread his arms wide like he’s revealing a grand prize. "Behold," he says, "the palace in which the handsome man standing before you has been wandering unsupervised until you came along. But now that the buddy system is in place, that's all about to change."
"Freddie," Spencer growls the beta's name in a warning tone.
"What? I'm selling her on the lifestyle."
I try to laugh, and I do manage to make a noise that's close to a laugh, but the sound is too thin to show any real humor.
Zak's gaze flicks to mine immediately, and I see the worry in his eyes. I busy myself taking a closer look at the living room to avoid giving anything away.
The house smells incredible, at least. Like them.
Eucalyptus, sea salt, and sandalwood layered dreamily in the air.
Aside from that, the space just feels cold.
Not temperature-wise. Spencer and Zak seem like the kind of guys who know exactly what temperature is optimal for their bodies when they're arriving home after a game.
The cold is coming from something deeper. A sense that the house is more like a luxury hotel that would charge me twelve dollars for a bottle of water from the minibar.
Is the house objectively nice?
Yeah, I guess.
If you're a soulless tech CEO who hates color.
And fun.
An enormous slate fireplace stretches to the ceiling along the wall, and it's the only thing in the room I find even remotely appealing.
Unfortunately, my view of the fireplace is obscured by the giant chandelier hanging in the room.
A hunk of glass and metal that twists around itself randomly and looks impossible to dust.
I think of my own apartment with a sense of longing that makes my chest ache.
This place probably has like forty bedrooms, and I bet you can't even tell any of the rooms apart. The mental image of forty matching bedroom suites being delivered nearly makes me shudder.
Zak moves to my side, mistaking my silence for awe.
"The fireplace is one of my favorite parts, too," he says, his voice too cheerful for the dark cloud taking up residence in my chest. "Even though it looks like a real fireplace, this one is actually electric.
In the winter, we'll keep it on pretty much any time we're home.
Freddie insists this room is the epitome of romance when the fire is on. "
"It's true," Freddie says immediately. "Nothing says seduction quite like fire."
Spencer snorts a laugh from Freddie's other side. "Yep. Nothing says seduction like a man tripping over the hearth because he's trying to carry three bowls of popcorn across his arm like a waiter."
Freddie gasps. "That happened one time."
"Twice," Spencer and Zak correct him at the same time.
They smile at each other, all of the warmth that's lacking in their house written all over their faces. An hour ago, I would have found their expressions so sweet I could have purred for them. That was before I developed a lump in my throat that's making it hard to swallow or breathe normally.
I hug Zak's coat to my chest for comfort.
"This is beautiful," I manage to choke out so that I have something to say. They're all just staring at me, waiting for a reaction I don't feel.
The house is beautiful, in the kind of sterile way I would admire in a magazine spread but have never pictured myself living in.
How could I ever even invite friends over here?
I can already imagine Belle having a clumsy moment and spilling red wine on the pale-colored couch.
Or my brother trying to bet me that the chandelier could hold his weight, and bringing the whole thing crashing to the ground.
Freddie grabs my hand and tugs me along with him again. "Come on. Let me show you my favorite feature in the house."
He excitedly drags me away from the living room and down a hallway with the urgency of a man on a treasure hunt. I embrace myself for whatever outrageous thing he's about to show me. An indoor jungle gym? A secret laundry shoot big enough for him to slide down? A backup Simon the Sloth costume?
The possibilities are endless.
Freddie halts midway down the long hall and throws open a narrow door tucked between two regular-sized doors on either side. He beams as he looks at me expectantly for a reaction.
It's a closet.
An empty closet.
The small, white closet only has an empty shelf and a metal hanging rod inside. There aren't even clothes on the rod, not that many could fit. There's enough room for about three winter coats or one really uncomfortable nervous breakdown.
Now that I think about it, this closet might have some use for me after all.
"This space," Freddie announces grandly, "is one of the crown jewels of the house."
I blink at him. "The closet?"
"Yep." He steps inside and turns in a slow circle, tucking his chin down so that he can just barely fit inside without hitting his head on the shelf. "This closet shares a wall with Spencer's office."
My gaze drifts to Spencer, whose posture has gone rigid.
Freddie lowers his voice to a dramatic whisper and beckons me closer with his finger.
When I lean in, he shares, "If you stand in here and press your ear to the wall, you can hear every word said during the therapy sessions he has every other Tuesday.
All of his regular phone calls, too, but those usually aren't as interesting. "
Spencer closes his eyes for a moment, his lips forming a thin, straight line that looks pained. "I knew it," he grumbles.
For the first time, Freddie seems to remember that I'm not his only audience. He pales a little as he steps out of the closet and defensively says, "I don't do it all the time. Only when I'm worried that you're being too uptight."
"You always tell him he's too uptight," Zak points out.
"Exactly." Freddie nods his head like this proves his point.
"How am I supposed to help keep our alpha relaxed if he's always too uptight to admit what's really going on in that pretty head of his?
So, I come in here and check in on him. Most people would probably thank me for being so devoted to your mental health. "
Spencer shakes his head, clearly annoyed but genuinely not surprised. "Freddie isn't great about respecting boundaries."
Freddie nods along thoughtfully, the most serious I've seen him look so far. "I guess some people might feel that way, but to be fair, boundaries are really more a thing for other people. People who aren't as in tune as I am with the needs of others."
I choke back a laugh.
Spencer and Zak don't even crack a smile.
Freddie continues, "Actually, a psychic told me recently that I might be an empath. I signed up for her monthly class to help me channel my empath absorption."
"A psychic?" Zak echoes, his expression turning concerned. "Where did you find this psychic? And please tell me you paid for those classes with a credit card, so we can try to get a refund."
"Don't be ridiculous," Freddie tosses his head indignantly. "I was at a street fair, and she only accepted cash. Why would I ask for a refund?"
Spencer groans. I finally lose control and can no longer hold back my need to laugh. The sound bubbles out of me before I can stop it, a high-pitched squeal of amusement before I slap my hand over my mouth to cut myself off.
Freddie brightens; my laugh is the only validation he needs.
"See?" he gloats to the others. "The closet is a prime feature."
He's absurd. Deeply absurd. But at least his love for the closet feels human and comfortable. Maybe I'm being too hard on the house.
My doubt only lasts a second.
When I look down the hallway, I notice the gray furniture peeking out from the open door at the end of the hall, and I'm reminded again of the problems with this house. There's no character. No signs of real life.
An empty closet doesn't really redeem the rest of the house. My amusement gives way, letting the lead settle in my stomach again. My chest feels so tight that I can't get enough air. I suck in a ragged breath.