That she thought she owed me an apology made my gut twinge all over again. And the tightness in her voice made me wonder if she thought she owed me for what I’d done after all.
“I’m used to being on my own,” she said quietly. “And you’re right: I don’t like relying on other people or needing help. I’m unreasonable about it, and I’m liable to try to take your head off at any time for no good reason. Sometimes I’m rude, and I’m no good at being friendly because I’ve never had many friends. They were just one more thing that could be used against me by the people who wanted to control me.”
Torn between gratitude that she felt able to be so brutally honest with me and fury and grief for how cruelly she’d been treated, I reached out to touch her arm and offer comfort.
She leaned away. Reluctantly, I let my arm fall back to my side.
“I’m not looking for sympathy,” she said in a flat tone that made my stomach lurch and my wolf pace uneasily. “I’m just stating facts. I’m trying to figure out if I can trust you, and maybe letting you come with me today will help me answer that question.” She met my gaze, suddenly fierce again. “Knowing all that, if you want to go with me and find out the hard way how difficult I am to be around, then let’s do it.”
That tiny, fragile bridge strengthened under my feet. Underourfeet.
I’d figured my odds of getting to see Alice again after this at fifty-fifty at best. There for a few minutes, I’d felt the scales tip precipitously in the other direction. For that matter, yesterday—had it really been less than twenty-four hours ago?—when I’d stood on her porch, I been absolutely certain I didn’t have the proverbial snowball’s chance in hell.
So for about five seconds, I felt…giddy. And my brain spun like tires on ice.
Alice was watching me, her head tilted, as if wondering what I was thinking and what I planned to do.
I planned to make this chance count.
I stretched with my arms over my head, feeling joints pop and muscles loosen and my wolf’s satisfaction wash through me in a wave of warmth. And Alice watched me stretch, her gaze traveling down the length of my body and then taking its time returning to my face.
I grinned. “So who gets the shower first?”
She smiled, and it felt like the sun came out. “Me. I’m a mess and I stink, and it’ll take me longer to get ready with all this hair.”
What would she say if I told her she was beautiful with her hair tousled from sleep and I didn’t care about the lingering odors from the accident? Or if I confessed she smelled like vanilla and honey and home to me?
“It’s a deal,” I said instead. “I need to go down to your car and get my go-bag out of the trunk.”
“I’ll drop the wards so you can go in and out.” She slid to the edge of the bed, then glanced back over her shoulder with her brows raised. “Do put some pants and a shirt on, though. My next-door neighbor is always on her porch in the morning and she’s eighty-three. I’m not sure her heart could withstand seeinga werewolf in his boxers walking by twenty feet from her front steps.”
“I will get dressed,” I promised. “I’m always kind to mages, ghosts, and little old ladies.”
“Don’t lay it on too thick, Sean.” She rose and headed to the bathroom, her tone light. “I might start to think you’re bullshitting me.”
“Never,” I said.
If she noticed my earnest tone, she didn’t let on. She just chuckled and shut the bathroom door.
I stepped into my pants, stuck my feet in my boots without bothering with socks, and headed downstairs. The wards dropped just as I reached the last step.
She’d lowered her wards for me. And her guard, just a little. I wondered what Malcolm would think of that when he came back.
I put on my undershirt, which still lay on the porch swing, and took my bloody Maclin Security polo shirt with me to the car. I got my black duffel bag out of Alice’s trunk, shut it, and turned.
A silver-haired woman sitting in a wicker chair on the porch of the yellow house to the right of Alice’s caught my attention. From behind thick glasses, she eyed me over the rim of her teacup.
I raised my hand in greeting. “Good morning, ma’am.”
She tutted and shook her head.
Smiling, I returned to the porch, collected my bloody Maclin Security polo shirt and Ben’s cooler, and brought everything inside.
The shower was running upstairs when I came in, so I took a detour to Alice’s living room to look through her three neat crates of vinyl albums. I was pleased to discover I’d guessed rightabout most of her collection, and I was pleasantly surprised by the rest of what she had.
Maybe we could visit a record store and go bin-diving together. Then out for ice cream, so I could see what she picked.
Out of curiosity, I snuck a peek in her freezer, but she didn’t have any ice cream—mint chocolate chip or otherwise. In fact, the freezer had almost nothing in it. Neither did the fridge. And her pantry was just as sparse.
