I squeeze her hand gently.
She doesn’t squeeze it back.
When Piper drives us back to the rescue, I can’t ignore the sinking feeling in my gut.
Every second Blair doesn’t look at me is another second that she pushes away.
“Everyone went home already, Blair. Maeve closed up,” Piper says as we park next to Blair’s. “Should I just follow you home?”
“I’ll give her a ride home,” I say.
“I want to be alone tonight,” Blair says.
She doesn’t want to be around us.
“I’ll drive Travis home afterward,” Piper adds gently. “He’ll just give you a ride home.”
Regardless of what she might argue, Blair is in no position to drive, especially with the rain pouring down like this.
She just looks to me and nods.
Her movements are jerky as she steps out of Piper’s car, her purse in hand. I take it from her wordlessly, fish out her car keys, and unlock the doors to her car.
She climbs into the passenger seat, not looking at me.
My inner Alpha howls in agony, and I’ve never felt so helpless.
She buckles her seatbelt before I have the chance to do it for her, her lips pulled into a thin line.
“Everyone is safe,” I reassure her again, my voice low.
The customer service smile reappears. “I know, Travis.”
NotAlpha.
Just Travis.
I drive us out of the parking lot and purposefully take the side streets back to her apartment, avoiding the freeway. The rain has grown worse, and I have her windshield wipers at maximum speed to keep a clear line of vision.
If she notices the change of route, she doesn’t comment.
She remains silent as I place my hand on her thigh, squeezing gently.
She doesn’t move.
Her scent is still muted and soured by her pain, and it’s unbearable.
“Tell me what to do,” I say quietly, my eyes on the road. “Tell me what you need. You’re scaring the shit out of me, Blair.”
“I’m okay.” her voice is breathy and small, and the lie is evident.
My hands grip the steering wheel harder.
“We shouldn’t have told you,” I murmur once we’re at a stoplight. “We should have just handled this without you knowing and told you later. I’m sorry.”
She whips her head to me, looking as if I’d slapped her.
“Don’t ever apologize to me for something like that,” she says, her face stricken. “You shouldn’t have to hide things like that from me.”
