Page 130 of Make Me Yours
No answer.
My stomach churns.
Then, a little gray blur shoots out from under the coffee table, meowing as she skids across the hardwood.
“Hey, Waffles.” I crouch, reaching out as she trots over, tail held high like a tiny, fuzzy antenna.
She lets out another chirpy meow as I scoop her up and scratch behind her ears.
“Where’s your mama, huh?” I murmur, holding her up to eye level. She blinks at me like she’s keeping secrets. “You gonna tell me?”
Waffles responds with a dramatic yawn before flopping against my torso, purring like a tiny engine.
I chuckle and rub a hand down her back.
“Guess that’s a no.”
Her presence eases something in me. The place feels a little less empty with her snug in my arms. But it still doesn’t explain where Lilah is.
I carry Waffles with me as I check the bedroom, my heart ticking faster than it should. The door is open, and the first thing I spot is a pile of clothes on the floor near the foot of the bed.
That’s a good sign.
She’s here.
But something still feels off.
I set Waffles on the bed and give her a final scratch behind the ears before rounding the corner.
Lilah is huddled in the bathtub, knees pulled to her chin, arms wrapped around them as steam rises from the water. Her eyes are red-rimmed and her skin is blotchy. Not from the heat but from something much deeper.
The sight of her stops me cold.
“Lilah,” I say gently as I step into the bathroom.
Instead of glancing my way, she continues to stare at the surface of the water, her lashes heavy and wet.
I lower myself to the edge of the tub, close enough that our knees almost touch. “Talk to me, baby. Did something happen?”
Silence.
It’s the kind that makes my stomach twist and my jaw grind. My girl never goes quiet unless she’s hurting in a way that words can’t touch.
“Lucky charm,” I murmur, trying for lightness. “Do I really need to threaten to spank your ass, or is that even a deterrent anymore?”
A watery laugh escapes her lips. “Probably not.”
That tiny sound hits me harder than it should. But it’s something. A sign she’s still in there.
I reach out and graze her cheek with my knuckles. Her skin is damp and warm. “Come on, Lilah. Whatever it is, you can tell me.”
She takes a moment to compose herself. “Ashley texted this morning and said there was a box of my stuff at the front desk.”
“You should’ve told me. I would’ve come with you.”
She lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “I figured it’d be quick. We had a brief conversation, and it was fine.” Her voice wavers on the last word. “And then…” She swallows hard. “I stopped at that little coffee shop I used to love. The one near the office.”
There’s a pause, and I brace myself for whatever’s coming.
