Page 87 of In Knots

Chapter 23

Iwalk for two hours in the rain, barefoot, my ankle throbbing where I landed clumsily, my eyes sore with the endless streaming water. But I keep walking. I don’t have my phone or a map. Yet, my feet seem to know where they’re taking me; like they’re following some unseen trail, a path leading where I need to go, a thread tugging me that way.

Every moment, I’m sure the next passing car will be my father or Jonathan coming to drag me home, so I stick to the back streets, away from the main roads and I keep walking.

Finally, the streets start to look familiar and when I spy the pub from the other night, my heart leaps in my chest and I pick up the pace as best I can. I must look a state, limping along the road, my dress drenched and stuck to my skin, my hair wet and slick to my scalp. But the streets are empty today, the rain driving everyone inside.

The garage is open when I arrive, but quiet and there is no welcoming scent of the alphas in the air.

“Hello,” I call, hobbling inside, my arms wrapped around my body, my teeth chattering.

A middle-aged round woman, her arms full of paperwork pokes her head around the corner of the office. When her eyes land on me, she jumps, and papers scatter up into the air and then flutter to the floor.

“Oh, my goodness,” she says, resting her palm against her chest. “You gave me a fright.” Her eyes widen and she steps over the piles of paper towards me. “Are you OK, my love?”

I swipe my hands over my wet face, trying to remove the moisture, turning my fingers black with mascara. “Are the boys here?” I ask.

“The boys?” she cocks her head. “Have you come to pick up a car or …?”

I shudder and my teeth clatter together.

“Jesus. You must be freezing. Let me get you a towel.”

“No,” I murmur, the shadows bleeding into one another and the world turning hazy. “I’m so hot. The boys–”

“Let’s get you upstairs,” the woman says, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and guiding me towards the door that leads to the alphas’ flat. “I’m Anne by the way,” she says, as she pushes back the door and encourages me up the stairs. “Ryan’s mum.”

“Alexa,” I mumble.

“You’re limping?” She peers down at my ankle where I’m resting my weight gingerly.

“I think I sprained it or something.”

“What on earth has happened to you?” she asks, but I simply stare back at her, the world glittering around the edges.

“Come on,” she says, helping to support me as we hobble up the steps. “I help out with the accounts,” she tells me. “They couldn’t handle a spreadsheet if their lives depended on it. So, every so often I have to sneak my way in and sort it all out. They don’t like me interfering in their business. But I’m pretty sure they’d never have any money in the bank to pay for their tax bill if it wasn’t for me.”

She shakes her head as if in irritation, but there’s affection in her voice.

“However, what I draw the line at,” she says, pushing the door open and helping me into the living space, “is cleaning for them. They’d love that. But they’re grown men. They can clean for themselves.” She swings her gaze around. “Hmmm not too bad today, although I bet they’ve never thought to drag a duster round the place.”

“Are they here?” I ask, my voice shaking.

“No, my love. Here, you sit down on the sofa. I’m going to get you some dry clothes. Then you can tell me all about it.”

I snuggle into the cushions of the sofa, the familiar scents of the alphas soothing against my burning skin.

Ryan’s mother returns with a shirt that she holds out to me. “I’m sure it will absolutely dwarf you, but it’s better than nothing.”

I draw down the zip of my dress and peel the wet thing off my body. Anne holds out her hand and takes it from me.

“Such a pretty dress,” she says, tracing her palm over the stitching on the bodice. “Let me hang it up.” She disappears into one of the bedrooms and I wriggle the shirt over my head and climb into a huge pair of shorts, having to draw the string tight to stop them slipping down my waist.

These are Ryan’s clothes and the way the fabric envelopes me in his scent seems to make the gland on my neck itch like crazy.

Anne returns, this time with a towel in her arms as well as several pillows and blankets.

“Well, you don’t look quite as elegant now, my love, but hopefully you’re more comfortable.”

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