“Hey!” I hear one of her alphas, probably the one named Jude, shout from the back.
I laugh again, a real one this time. Trust Leah to make me laugh.
“So what now?” she asks.
“Now I go back to my life,” I say, trying to sound more confident than I feel. “The gallery will reopen soon. I’ll get back to work. I’ll move on.”
“And the claiming marks?”
I touch my neck again and hiss at the pain. “They’ll fade eventually.”
“And if they don’t?”
“Then I’ll deal with it,” I say firmly. “I am not going to be their living, breathing aspirin, Leah. I deserve more than that.”
“Damn right you do,” she agrees. Then her voice softens. “But Zoe... what if there is more? What if they just couldn’t find the words to tell you?”
I close my eyes, remembering the raw, naked pain in their faces as I walked out the door.
“Then they’ll figure it out,” I say finally. “And they’ll come after me. But I’m not going to wait around hoping they do.”
“Fair enough,” Leah says. “So, can I come over? Bring wine? Ice cream? Both?”
I smile, grateful for her friendship. “Both. Definitely both.”
“On my way,” she promises. “And Zoe? I’m proud of you. Standing up for yourself is hard, especially against four alphas. You’re kind of a badass.”
I hang up feeling marginally better, though the hollow ache in my chest persists. I move around the apartment, trying to make it feel like home again. I light candles, turn on music, fluff the pillows on the couch. But it still feels wrong, like I’m play-acting in someone else’s life.
The marks on my neck throb harder now, and I catch myself touching them again. I force my hand back down to my side.
“Stop it,” I mutter to myself. “They’re just marks. They’ll fade.”
Leah arrives in record time, armed with two bottles of wine and a bag from the corner market that contains not one but three pints of ice cream.
“I didn’t know which kind to get,” she explains as she sets them on my tiny kitchen counter. “So I got chocolate therapy, mint chocolate chip, and cookie dough.”
“You’re the best,” I tell her, genuinely touched.
“I know.” She turns to me, her usual teasing energy softening as she takes in my appearance. Her eyes flick to my pale face, the dark circles under my eyes I couldn’t hide with concealer. “Oh, Zo.”
Before she can say anything else, I notice something. “Wait,” I say, looking past her to the empty hallway. “Where are the babies?”
“With Mason,” she says, waving a dismissive hand, though a soft, fond smile touches her lips. “He took one look at my face after our call and basically ordered me out of the house. Said he’d handle the ‘tiny queens’ and that I was not to come home until you were properly drunk and feeling better.”
I smile at the image of Leah’s calm, steady beta managing the chaos of twin infants so she could race to my side. “He’s a good one.”
“He’s the best,” she agrees. Then her expression turns serious again, and she opens her arms. “Now, come here.”
I step into her hug, letting myself be enveloped in the comfort of friendship. It’s not the same as the four pairs of arms I’ve grown accustomed to, but it’s warm and real and exactly what I need right now.
“You look like hell,” she says when she pulls back, her honesty as refreshing as always.
“Thanks,” I say dryly. “You really know how to make a girl feel special.”
She shrugs, already opening a bottle of wine. “That’s what friends are for. Now, sit. Drink. Tell me everything again, but this time with all the juicy details you left out.”
I obey, curling up on the couch while she pours generous glasses of red wine. “What juicy details?”
