14. Heavy Vibes, Sucky Lives
Chapter fourteen
Heavy Vibes, Sucky Lives
The atmosphere in this elevator is so heavy I’m shocked we’re actually moving.
I watch the numbers light up in silence. Lauren and I have taken up opposite corners, each keeping as far as we can get from the other.
It’s easier, I suppose, with the giant silver suitcase between us. I eye it with irritation before focusing forward. The silence stretches out, as awkward as it was in Jonas’s borrowed truck.
My phone vibrates in my hand. Liam.
Bringing takeout home. Carter will be late. We’ll talk later.
Lauren’s phone buzzes a moment later while I’m still formulating a response. I look over at where her head is bowed, a small smile on her face as she taps out a reply.
Ugh. I shove my phone into my bag without answering and tap my foot in irritation.
It’s a relief when the doors finally slide open, the ting of the bell announcing our arrival to an otherwise empty apartment. Carefully planned, waiting for me to give the official tour.
I stare at the hall that leads to my living room. Lauren hovers awkwardly at my shoulder. “Uh—”
The doors slide closed, trapping us both inside the elevator once more.
Lauren shifts. “Rosie?”
Her face looks wan. She tries to smile. “I… ah, I don’t really love elevators. Heights, you know?”
We live in a fucking penthouse.
My hand slams out, opening the doors without saying anything. She follows me into the hall, dragging her suitcase with her and nothing else. “Where’s the rest of your stuff?”
“This is it.” She comes to a stop at my face. “What?”
Now I’m suspicious. And weirdly annoyed. “That’s it?”
She’s likely hoping for a shopping spree. My pack’s net worth is a number I try not to think about too much. That much money and someone who hoards fluffy materials is not a safe combination. “I’m sure they’ll get you anything you need.”
My tone bites. I know Jonas would be more than happy to take her shopping. To buy her whatever she wants.
I turn away from her and spread out my hand. “This is the hall.”
“It’s nice.” I can feel her studying the brightly-colored runner stretched over solid oak floorboards beneath our feet, the mismatched scarlet and deep green dressers facing each other with oddly shaped metal mirrors above them.
And our photos, dozens of them crammed into brightly-colored frames and filling the walls with three years of memories. “I love the colors. I’m not much of a designer.”
I try to work out if there’s an insult in there somewhere. Quirky, yes, but designer is not a term anyone would ever associate with me.
There’s a lot of blank space. Now I wish I’d gone ahead and filled every gap instead of thinking it was romantic to keep space for our future.
Her face will probably be up here soon.
“Come on,” I say abruptly. “Let’s get this over with.”
I’m under strict orders, and whatever conversation Liam wants to have will be hard enough after today.
I feel robotic as I take my pack’s scent patch through every room in our home, through the open plan kitchen and living room to the utility and family-sized bathroom we never use but my alphas use to store their hockey stuff.
The smell makes me close the door quickly, realizing I forgot to arrange pick-up. It was on my list for today. “The Furnace does most of their kit washing, but I send out the rest for dry cleaning.”
“I don’t blame you.” Lauren backs away quickly. There’s almost—almost—a brief moment of shared understanding. Hockey players stink.
“Right.” I avoid the faint flicker of hope in her eyes and pivot. “Come on.”
My tension rises as I show her the halls that branch off from our main space. “That one leads to the gym. There’s an office we use for home working, home cinema room, extra storage.”
“This place is huge.”
“Yeah. We have the team over a lot.” I frown. Team dinners might not be so easy when we’re trying to keep under the radar. I’ll need to speak to Liam about it.
But Lauren is nodding. Her feet shift toward the second hall, and I push in front of her before she can move, blocking her way.
Both of us stop. My breathing grows heavier, my skin clammy. “I—”
Not there.
Lauren looks over my shoulder. There’s a stiffness in her expression, a tightness in the faint lines on her forehead. She shuffles forward, and my response is immediate. My hands fly up, the rejection torn from my throat. “No.”
She wants to go down the hall.
To our space. To the rooms where nobody else goes. Only pack. To where we sleep, and nest, and fuck. The only scents behind me are theirs and mine, and this omega does not belong here.
Every cell in my body screams for her to leave. To stay away from their space, from my nest, from the heart of our home that I built for us.
But she’s not leaving. And there’s nothing I can do to make her.
My desperation leaks through the words I parrot back to her. “You just met them.”
Lauren’s eyes stare back at me. There’s desperation there too, even if she hides it well, her voice flat. But her whole body is still primed to dart into the hall I’m blocking. “They’re my scent matches. I can scent—them. And you.”
The admission spills between us like tar, sticky and smothering. “I don’t like it.”
She sounds… stunned. Surprised, as if it’s a question and not another strike against the life I thought I was building. My tension creeps impossibly higher, and I vaguely register the realization that this is not going to go to Liam’s plan.
At all.
When she takes a step, my hands raise in warning. My inhale sounds closer to a hiss as our eyes lock. “I said no.”
A pinnacle rises beneath my feet, and I'm about to tip over it. Into a place where I can't be rational anymore. Where I can't step aside and let their scent match walk into the life we built.
There isn't a part of me capable of moving right now.
Lauren’s face flickers with shock. “Shit.”
The acknowledgment sits between us. Neither of us can move.
Which means we’re stuck here, facing off until one of us is forced to give in. Or until my alphas exit the elevator and find us in a full-blown dominance stand-off.
I am so beyond fucked.