“Why not?”
“She’s not ready to face you yet.”
“How do you know?”
Jim inhaled deeply and remained quiet. I inhaled, too. It was still there. Her fear.
“Fine. Go see if she’ll let you help her.”
Jim nodded, and I left the apartment. We’d done enough work on the new place for the day, and I didn’t want to be in there, listening to another play session. When I reached the bottom stair, I heard the boys run out onto the third floor landing. They cheered as they scampered down the steps and out the front door.
Shaking my head, I went to wash up. I’d just turned off the water when Jim yelled from upstairs.
“Michelle’s making dinner.”
Jim wasn’t subtle about anything, and I got his message loud and clear. I needed to get up there and help her. In seconds, I was dressed and in the hall.
As Jim raced down the stairs, he spoke softly.
“She’s stressed and exhausted and ready for a really big glass of wine.”
I went back into the apartment and took the bottle from the fridge. Since Jim preferred beer, I wasn’t sure why he had it. And I probably didn’t want to know.
With the wine in one hand, I raced up the stairs. My pulse sped at the thought of seeing her again. I stopped at her apartment door to knock, but forgot to when I saw her.
She was standing with her back to the living room as she stared at the contents of her refrigerator. Her dark hair was pulled back into her customary ponytail, but it wasn’t as smooth as usual. Little wisps had escaped. She turned her head slightly so I could see her profile. Jim was right. She did look tired.
She closed the refrigerator then opened the freezer and removed a large package of meat.
“Can I help?” I asked from the door.
She glanced over her shoulder to look at me. The pose, the angle of her head...I swallowed hard. She was so beautiful. So humanly fragile. So mine.
When she frowned and looked like she would say no, I quickly held up the bottle and hoped Jim knew what he was talking about.
“I also brought wine. Jim said you needed it.”
“One glass,” Winifred called up the stairs.
Michelle’s lips twitched at Winifred’s words. Seeing an emotion other than fear or worry had me responding with a grin and a wink. Then, Michelle surprised me further by nodding.
My pulse leapt again as I stepped into the apartment and made my way to the kitchen. Her humor faded, and she watched me warily. I pretended not to notice and didn’t let it destroy the moment. She’d let me in, and I was coming to realize it was two steps forward and one step back with her. She was prickly like that. It just meant any progress with her would be slow.
Finding the biggest glass in the cupboard, I set it on the counter and filled it to the top with wine. It would give Michelle the chance to drink as much as she wanted without me disobeying Winifred.
When I glanced at Michelle, I saw her worried look. Did she think I was trying to get her drunk?
“You don’t have to drink any,” I said.
She responded by picking up the glass and taking a large swallow before removing the meat she’d put in the microwave. I stood back and just watched her for a moment, basking in her company and her scent. I especially liked the way she moved. Slow and sure. My gaze fell to her long legs—I needed to thank Winifred for the cutoff shorts. Realizing the direction of my appreciative gaze and thoughts, I cringed. If I wasn’t careful, I’d be riding Michelle’s knee again.
When she tossed an onion my way, my gaze was properly on her face once more. We worked side by side to make the meatloaf for dinner. The smell of the food wasn’t enough to cover her emotions, which seemed to shift with each sip of wine. She had something on her mind, and I kept quiet, hoping she’d realize she could talk to me. About anything.
But when she did speak, I wasn’t ready for what she said.
“He locked them in their room when he got tired of them.”
We both froze. I could smell her surprise as I struggled with my anger. I wanted to know who locked them in their rooms, but knew now wasn’t the time to push for more information.
I quickly washed the food from my hands then turned her to face me. Her cheeks were flushed; from the wine or what she said, I couldn’t be certain.
I remained quiet, waiting for her to look up. When she did, she kept talking, a small sign of trust.
“My mom died just after Aden was born. My stepfather, their dad, died two days before I saw you at that diner. I’m all my brothers have. I won’t let them be locked in a room again.”
“David will never get the chance,” I promised. If I ever saw him again, he was a dead man.
Something flitted across her features. I lightly breathed in and tasted her confusion as she studied me with a slight frown.
“I’m not afraid of David,” she said before she turned away and poured the rest of the glass of wine into the sink. The move signaled the topic was now closed, and I wished she wouldn’t have shut me out.
She put the meatloaf in the oven then brought out a bag of potatoes. When she handed me a few, I washed them for her. Although I knew she was done talking, I still had so many questions. If it wasn’t David she feared, then who? Who locked her brothers in a room? Who was after my Mate? Who were Blake and Richard?
Not ready for another unmanning, I kept my mouth shut. So did she. And she remained quiet all through dinner. As soon as we all finished eating, she asked to clean up alone. I hated leaving her—it felt like losing ground—but did as she asked.
Downstairs, Aden and Jim challenged Liam and me to races. Wolf style, but no fur. Winifred scolded his wording but didn’t say a thing when he got down on all fours and started racing around the porch.
When I gave her a questioning look, she shrugged.
“Little bits of information at a time can sometimes help ease a transition.”
I wondered if she knew Jim had said something very similar to me. Most likely not. She didn’t like when Jim sounded like an Elder, or was right.
I looked down at Liam, whose gaze was bouncing between Winifred and me. Ruffling his hair, I dropped to my knees.
“Hang on to my shirt because we’re going to win.”
He grinned and climbed onto my back.
We’d only managed a few official laps when I heard Michelle on the stairs. I almost stopped, but Liam’s heels dug into my sides in an effort to keep me moving.
“Ready for them to come up to bed?” I heard Winifred ask.
“Not yet,” Michelle said. “Could you watch them a little longer? I was hoping Emmitt and I could go for a ride.”
I put on a burst of speed to round the third corner as Winifred answered.
“You smell like wine. Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
Winifred, you’re killing me.
If she’s drunk, do you think it’s wise to have any type of serious conversation?
Serious? No. Conversation? Yes. This means she’s willing to listen, and I don’t want to throw a chance away.
“It’s the only one I have.”
Michelle’s soft, desperate words had me racing for the next bend.
“Of course, I’ll watch them,” Winifred said.
I turned the corner just as she added, “I’ll put them to bed for you, too.”