“That’s all I know for now,” I admit. “But I’m sure the detective on the case would update you if you called and asked.”
“Right. The detective,” she repeats, nodding.
“We could call her together now, if you wanted to?”
She shakes her head slowly. “She said she’d call me when she had something. I just … It doesn’t seem fair, you know? I got out, and I’ve been looked after, and given all this stuff. My mother didn’t get that chance. She’ll never get to have the life she could have had. The life she should have had.”
“I wish she could have had that chance.”
She gives me a sad smile. “Thanks for listening to me. I’m not … I don’t usually get upset like that. I’m not used to talking about what I’m feeling. I think maybe it would have been helpful, when I was a kid.”
“Well, I’m always happy to talk about anything you want to talk about. Anytime you want.”
“I feel a little better,” she confesses. “Do you want to get something to eat?”
“Sure. I could eat.”
“I usually eat at the cafeteria, but I have another idea for tonight.”
“I’m intrigued.”
Chapter Eighty-Three
Robin
Aquick visit to the kitchen to place a dinner order big enough for three is followed by sneaking Shayne up the staircase and bringing him to my suite. My heart is hammering when I open the door, and it’s not because I think we might be caught.
I’m about to be alone in my apartment with two Alphas’ I’m deeply attracted to, one of whom I’ve already shared some time with naked, and the other who just watched me ugly-cry and was sweet about that emotional outburst.
It feels more than a little dangerous.
Shayne follows me inside and closes the door, while I find out Falcon is gone from the couch.
The bathroom door is closed, so I guess that’s where he is.
“Nice place,” Shayne compliments as he looks around.
“Take a seat. I’ll be back in a sec,” I tell him, as I take Falcon’s clothes into the bedroom.
I place the freshly laundered clothes on the bed, and then I knock gently on the bathroom door.
“Um, Falcon?”
“I’ll be right out,” he calls.
“That’s fine. I left your clothes on the bed. They’ve been washed.”
I slip out of the room and close the door to the bedroom as I move over to the kitchen.
“I forgot to order drinks. Is water okay?” I ask, as I head to the fridge.
“Water’s my kind of drink,” Shayne says. “Thanks.”
I bring three bottles and then three glasses over to the table.
Shayne helps me place them, and he sorts out the silverware when I bring it over.
“I was a waiter for a while,” he reveals. “I won’t pretend I was good at it, but I made decent tips when I was younger.”
