“No,” I agree, my arm still curved around her shoulders. “You’re not alone.”
Mixie stretches, her claws extending toward me before retracting. She assesses me, deciding if I’m acceptable company for her person.
Through the window, heavy, gray clouds gather on the horizon. But with Emily’s weight against my side and her cat purring between us, the coming storm doesn’t scare me.
Chapter Thirteen
Emily
The sound of a knock on the job site trailer’s door jars me from the half-sleep I’d fallen into at my desk while taking a break from the heat.
The air conditioner hums from the window as I straighten, my back protesting the awkward angle. “Come in.”
The trailer door swings open, allowing the sounds of the construction site to rush in. Tim, one of the drywall contractors, pokes his head inside.
“Hey, Em, we need approval on the—” His words cut short as he catches the expression on my face. “Sorry, are you still on break?”
“No, it’s fine.” I rub my eyes with my fingers. “What do you need?”
Tim shifts his weight. “The, uh, partition wall inthe east wing. The framing doesn’t match the prints.”
I lock my phone, tuck it into my pocket, and grab my hard hat. “Show me.”
He retreats outside, holding the door as I collect my tablet and hard hat. The late afternoon heat hits me like a wall after the comfort of the air-conditioned trailer, and I loosen the top button on my work shirt.
Tim walks beside me across the dusty ground of the construction site, keeping an unusual distance between us. “Heard about what happened at the docks.”
My stride falters for half a second before I recover. “Did you.”
He kicks a small stone out of our path. “Nasty business. That Alpha who works the water taxi.”
“Jared,” I supply. “His name is Jared Masterson.”
“Right. Him.” Tim clears his throat. “Guys were talking about it in the break tent. Saying how he went after some Omega.”
“That’s not what happened.” I stop walking and turn to face him. “The security camera footage from the boat shows the whole incident. He was trying to help.”
Tim’s eyes drop to the ground. “Yeah, well. That’s not what people are saying.”
Before I can respond, we pass a cluster of electricians hunched over coffee cups near the materials storage. Their conversation halts as we approach, but I catch the end of a sentence.
“—never would have believed it. Taking up with someone so young?—”
The back of my neck heats, but I square my shoulders and keep walking, my ears picking up their whispers as we pass.
“Wilson’s the one who bailed him out.”
“Figures. Alphas stick together.”
“Wonder what she sees in him. He’s half her age.”
“It’s disgraceful, an older woman chasing after someone so young.”
The insinuation stings more than it should. When Jared and I arrived early at the water taxi this morning, there had already been a crowd. He’d pulled his hoodie up to hide the bruises and scurried below deck, while I’d endured the speculation my crew aimed at me.
Beside me, Tim pretends not to listen to the gossip, but his face flushes red beneath his beard.
“Partition wall’s this way,” he mumbles,pointing toward the east wing, where we’re closing in on drywall and finishes.