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“No.”
The answer satisfies part of whatever calculation is already happening inside his head. “Good.”
I brace my free hand against the desk. “My landlord found it open this morning.”
“Did he go inside?”
“No.”
“Did anyone else?”
“Not that I know about.”
A chair scrapes faintly on his end of the line. I picture him standing up from behind his desk, grabbing his jacket, and already moving.
“Stay at the shelter.”
The command arrives exactly as expected. I close my eyes. “Alexei.”
“Stay at the shelter,” he insists.
“I'm not plannin’ to charge into danger armed with a leash and positive thinkin’.”
“I'm serious,” Alexei continues. “Don’t leave until I get there.”
“Okay.”
The answer surprises both of us. I hear it in the silence that follows. Usually, I would argue or push back. I would insist that I'm perfectly capable of handling my own apartment. Right now, all I can think about is somebody walking through my bedroom while I wasn't there. Somebody opening drawers. Touching my belongings. Looking through pieces of my life.
The thought makes my stomach flip.
“I'll be there soon,” Alexei says.
I hadn't realized how badly I needed to hear that.
His voice lowers. “Stay with Luka.”
“I will.”
He ends the call, and I lower the phone slowly.
Jules is watching me. “So?”
“He's coming.”
“Well, bless his overprotective heart.”
Instead of putting my phone away, I scroll to Mama's number and hit call. The line rings twice before she answers.
“Hey, baby.”
Some of the tension in my chest eases at the sound of her voice.
“Hey, Mama. You okay?”
A pause greets me. “That's an interestin’ way to start a conversation.”
I lean against the edge of the desk and look out toward the lobby.
