“I have some intake forms,” she says, offering a pen. “Basic information, emergency contacts.”
Auren turns away, arms crossed.
I take the clipboard, the plastic cool beneath my fingertips. The form blurs as I try to read it, black type swimming on the white background. I force my hand to remain steady as I fill in the boxes. Name. Date of birth. Relation to client.
When I reach Emergency Contact, I hesitate.
“You can list yourself if you want,” Maria suggests, “or we can leave it blank for now.”
With a deep breath, I leave it blank. There will be no doors left open this time.
Auren keeps his back to me as I complete the form, his body language rigid with rejection. The overhead light catches in his lavender hair, turning the damp strands to silver where they curve along his neck.
“All set.” I hand the clipboard back to Maria.
She takes it. “We’ll take good care of him.”
The warnings I want to give about his tactics, explanations of his triggers, stick in my throat. Instead, I simply say, “Thank you.”
Auren doesn’t turn when I say goodbye. I leave the emergency blanket on the floor, not wanting any trace of him to return with me.
My footsteps echo on the hardwood as I walktoward the door, the weight of Auren’s prediction settling into my bones.
The night air hits me hard as I step onto the porch, cold after the heated interior. Behind me, the door closes with a soft click, severing the last physical connection between us.
I stand alone under the shelter of the porch roof, rain sprinkling around me, before I stiffen my spine.
I have an Alpha to return home to.
As I pull into my driveway, the lights are still on inside, and relief sweeps through me knowing Jared waited up for me. I need to get inside and apologize for running out on him earlier.
Mixie appears at the living room window, her green eyes flashing red in the headlights. I can’t wait to cuddle her, then maybe pick back up where I left things with Jared. Despite exhaustion tugging at my body, I need to be close to him. To reassure myself I’m not alone, no matter what Auren said.
Cutting off the engine, I hop out of the truck and hurry to the front porch. The key slides into the lock, metal scraping metal.
Inside, warmth welcomes me home, but thesilence raises alarm bells. The house sits too quiet, too still. My boots thud on the hardwood as I step into the foyer, the sound echoing in a way it never does when Jared is home.
Mixie appears in the hallway, her black coat gleaming in the low light. She trills a greeting, weaving figure-eights around my ankles, as if she’s lonely.
“Jared?” I call out, breaking the silence.
No answer comes.
I shed my jacket, draping it over the hook by the door. My boots should sit beside Jared’s, paired like bookends on the mat. Instead, his side is empty, and unease slithers through me.
“Jared?” I call again, moving deeper into the house.
The living room sits undisturbed. The book he was reading earlier still lies open on the coffee table, with a bookmark holding his place. The blanket on the couch bears the imprint of where he sat, but the cushion has cooled.
He’s been gone for a while.
The kitchen gleams clean in the overhead light when I flip the switch. No dishes in the sink. No note on the counter. The chairs are tucked beneath the table, their wooden legs casting long shadows across the floor.
Cold panic rises as my feet carry me down the hall to where the guest room door stands ajar, darkness spilling from within.
I push it open, the hinges creaking softly. The bed sits undisturbed, covers pulled tight across the mattress.
The realization settles cold and heavy in the pit of my stomach.