Page 8 of UNAwere

‘Um.’ I pull my hand back to my side. ‘Are we going?’ I glance at Nolan to get some form of direction because, apparently, Warner’s bodyguard has turned into a statue.

‘Are you ready?’ The voice behind me is even more gruff up close, and a shiver skates down my spine.

I look back at the Primrose wolf, meeting his eye. He’s staring at me as if he hates me, and I understand he’s probably annoyed about having to wait fifteen minutes for me to get myself sorted, but this seems a little overkill.

‘Yep…’

Maeve lets out a soft sound and stands as everyone begins to file out of the room. Warner’s bodyguard picks up my suitcase before I can reach it and takes it out to his car. I glance at Nolan, raising my brows, but he just shrugs.

‘Maybe try not to piss him off any more?’ he offers quietly.

‘I hardly did anything,’ I murmur.

We make it onto the porch. The bodyguard is loading my suitcase into the back seat of his car – a massive pickup truck with shiny black paint. Drew lets out a low whistle. Maeve grabs my hand, and I pull her into another hug.

‘You’ll be okay,’ I tell her softly. ‘I promise. And I’ll text, okay? Every day.’

She sniffs. ‘You better.’

‘Of course.’

I pull from her and give Nolan a quick hug. We’re both not big on touching, and it’s awkward and fumbly, but I try to express my gratitude to him for getting me and Maeve through our lives. Despite it coming to this, I don’t think it’s his fault, and I don’t want him to think that either.

Prue and Izzy are next. I tell them to look after Maeve, and they swear they will.

When I reach Drew, I shake his hand, my cheeks flaming. It’s so much bigger than mine, and it makes me realise I’ve never actually touched him before. He gives me a dazzling smile to which I snort-laugh, before ducking away.

Warner’s bodyguard is waiting by the truck. His arms are crossed again, and his eyes are now covered by a pair of sunglasses. With his thick brows and beard, his entire face is practically covered, and yet they still hardly hide the scowl he’s wearing.

‘This is gonna be fun,’ I murmur under my breath.

Maeve grabs my hand before I step off the porch, and I give her another hug, kissing her hair.

‘I love you,’ I tell her. ‘Feel free to take what I left in my room. There are some old CDs in there you might like.’

‘Sybbie, I don’t use CDs. I stream all my music on my phone like a normal person.’

I harrumph. ‘Okay, fine. Don’t have my cool CDs.’

She smiles at me sadly. ‘Be safe. Please. Let me know when you’re there.’

‘I will.’

I grin at the rest of the group, making sure I spread it wide. To show them I’m coping. That I’m okay with this choice. I hate the way they’re looking at me like I’m dressed like a sacrificial lamb. Nolan’s frowning deeply, as if he knows something I don’t, and I consider bleating in the tense silence to at least try and get one of them to crack a smile.

‘I’ll meet you there in a few weeks,’ he says before I can. ‘To seal the alliance and work on next steps with Warner.’

‘Looking forward to it,’ I tell him airily.

I move off the porch and make my way to the truck. The bodyguard is still stoically standing by the passenger door. I’m only noticing now that he’s wearing a button-down plaid shirt and jeans, and I’m surprised by it. For some reason, I had the impression that Primrose Weres didn’t wear clothes. Although maybe he’s just put them on for me, to make sure I’m comfortable. For which I’m grateful. I don’t think I could go on a road trip for a few weeks with a guy who’s flinging his penis around twenty-four-seven.

When I reach him, he turns and opens the passenger door for me. I raise my brows, surprised, and thank him quietly. He says nothing and steps around the bonnet to get into the driver’s side.

Inside the truck, the leather interior smells brand new. The sound system and screen are dimmed, and it’s quiet, the air-conditioning softly blowing warm air. I close the door and press the button to roll down the window, so I can wave at everyone still standing on the porch. I can see the tears on Maeve’s cheeks, and it’s like a knife gets thrust into my heart at the look on her face.

‘I love you!’ I yell at her.

‘Ready?’ The question is spoken gruffly, and it’s hardly kind.