How do I tell her that those five minutes were enough to turn my world upside down? That her scent has been driving me feral since the moment I caught it?
“I know it’s weird,” I say slowly. “I know how this looks. I’ve never done anything like this before. I just... I couldn’t bear the thought of you being alone when you were hurting so much.”
Something flickers in her eyes. A look of confusion, or a moment of softened anger. But it’s quickly replaced by hardened resolve.
“Get out,” she says in a low voice, eyes narrowed. “Get the fuck out of my apartment before I call the police.”
I nod, reaching for my sneakers beside the bed. I slide them on without bothering with the laces, buying time, trying to think of some way to salvage this disaster.
I don’t want her to hate me.
Her scent is all around me, cherry blossoms, sleep, warmth, and lingering grief. I breathe it in one last time, knowing I might never be this close to her again.
“I really am sorry,” I say as I stand, keeping the bed between us. “I wasn’t thinking clearly. When I saw you crying in your sleep, all I wanted was to comfort you.”
She flinches at my words, her free hand coming up to touch her cheek as if checking for tears. “You watched me while I slept? Oh my god, you’re so creepy.”
I take a step toward the doorway, keeping my movements slow and deliberate.
“You calmed down while I held you. It helped you. May I ask who passed away?”
The question hangs in the air as I watch her face pale, the freckles across her nose standing out in stark relief against her suddenly bloodless skin. Her hand holding the hairspray drops to her side.
“What did you say?” Her voice is barely audible.
“I could smell it in your apartment,” I explain, knowing I’m only digging myself deeper but unable to stop. “You’d been crying and wearing black yesterday. I just... I want to know who you lost.”
She stares at me, her expression a complex mixture of horror and disbelief. For a moment, I think she might answer me, might open up about whatever grief is eating her from the inside out. But then her face hardens, her lips pressing into a tight line.
“Get out,” she says in a panicky voice. “Now.”
She strides forward suddenly, forcing me to back up into the hallway.
I let her advance, not wanting to frighten her with resistance. We move this way through the small apartment, an awkward dance with her pushing forward and me retreating, until my back hits the front door.
“Francine…”
“Don’t say my name,” she snaps. “Don’t contact me. Don’t come near me again. You’re just some creep from the grocery store who helped me pick up my stuff, not my fucking boyfriend. You have no right to be in my life.”
She reaches around me to wrench open the door, her arm brushing against mine. The brief contact sends electricity racing across my skin.
“I really am sorry,” I say softly as I step out into the hallway. “For what it’s worth, I just wanted to help.”
She doesn’t respond, just slams the door in my face hard enough to rattle the frame. Through the thin wood, I hear the lock click, followed by what sounds like a security chain sliding into place. Then silence.
I stand there for a long moment, staring at her door, my heart pounding painfully in my chest.
What the hell was I thinking?
I’ve ruined any chance with her before it even began. She’ll never trust me now. She’ll never give me a chance to explain that we’re fated to be together.
Five
FRANCINE
The door rattlesin its frame as I slam it shut, my whole body trembling with rage and adrenaline. I slide the deadbolt into place and attach the flimsy chain lock. But deep down, I know nothing would stop this crazed alpha if he really wanted to break back in.
My heart pounds so hard as I press my back against the door.
