Chapter 11: : Chapter 10

Chelsea doesn’t call. It makes me twitchy to know she’s over there in thirty-something degree weather with only a space heater.

She’s probably fine.

I don’t think she’s stubborn enough to put her safety at risk, but dammit, I wanted another night of having her tucked safely inside our house.

Breaking and entering is one of my life skills. It kept me alive when I was younger, but now I use it for the greater good…mostly.

Growing up in foster care, no one paid attention to where I was or if I was even alive. Even back then, I knew better than to shit where I ate, so I only hit houses across town from where my foster parents lived. When I was fifteen, I tried to break into Kase’s house. Except, his mom was home. Instead of calling the police, she sat me down at the kitchen table and cooked me the first hot meal I’d had in weeks.

Kase wasn’t pleased to find some random punk eating his mother’s spaghetti, and he tried to tell me to get lost. Free meals were too tempting to pass up, and I came back. He and I went to different schools—not that I showed up often—but eventually, I grew on him.

Okay, so, technically, he skipped school one day and waited for me with a machete that he held to my throat when I tried to slip in the back door. We beat the fuck out of each other and, at some point, realized we were more alike than either of us could have guessed. After that, we became inseparable, even though I’m three years older than him.

Because of this history, it’s time to worry when Kase is missing from his bedroom. The office, kitchen, living room, and weapons vault that we call the go-room are also vacant. This is when I frantically toss on my coat and boots to find the fucker.

I don’t bother closing the door quietly. There’s no telling if he’s already inside her house.

Chelsea has a stalker. Fine, the younger Raynor more than likely qualifies as a domestic issue because of their weird familial connection with Chelsea carrying his niece, but the guy is still harassing her.

The point is, she’ll freak the fuck out if she finds Kase in her house. He doesn’t want to hurt her. I’m sure he just wants to revisit his time as the little spoon, but he’s never been great at understanding societal norms.

Sure enough, he’s standing outside the window of Chelsea’s bedroom. If she had known what total psychopaths she moved next door to, she would have picked one of the upstairs bedrooms.

My eyes bug when I spot the gas can at Kase’s feet.

“Motherfucker,” I hiss, picking up my pace. He turns to face me as I get close, and I slam my fist into his jaw. It doesn’t bother me a bit when his head whips back, and he groans, clutching at his cheek.

“What the hell was that for?”

“Are you planning to burn down her house?” I shake out my fist and gesture to the gas canister.

“I don’t even have matches.” He raises a hand, flipping me off. “I found it in the backyard next to the shed. It seemed like a bad plan to leave it lying around when that asshole could see it and get ideas.”

I quirk an eyebrow. “And it didn’t cross your mind that, if the house burned down, she might be willing to stay with us while she looked for another place?”

His bluish-green eyes sparkle as he shrugs. “We both know it did, but I would have woken her up and gotten her safely to our house before lighting the blaze.”

“Accelerant is the first thing any fire investigator is going to check for.” I sigh, shaking my head. “The wiring is old. It would be better to add dust to the exhaust fan in one of the bathrooms. Once the motor blows, the dust catches fire. It starts in the attic and works down, following the wiring.”

Kase’s head tilts. “That is a good idea. Maybe when she’s out at her doctor’s appointment or baby shopping…”

“Don’t make me punch you again.” I snort. “I was only pointing out how illogically you’re thinking. Not trying to give you bright ideas.”

“I did think it through,” he growls, planting both his hands on my chest and shoving. “With all those police reports, Raynor would be the prime suspect.”

“Maybe if he was in town.” I slap his hands away. “Is he?”

Kase sighs, and his shaggy hair falls over his face as his head shakes. “Not yet. Last credit card transaction was this afternoon in Richmond.”

“My point, exactly.”

“I had a plan for that. It would be simple enough to plant a false trail. Why would he do it himself when he could hire someone?” Kase grins, like he’s won something. “I can frame anyone.”

“Let’s save that for later, if it becomes necessary.” I clap him on the shoulder. If I shut him down too hard, he’ll react out of spite. I’m also drawn to Chelsea, but I can’t tell how much of Kase’s interest is obsession, which is dangerous because when it fades, he’s only left with apathy. “Grab the gas can. It’s time we get back inside. It’s cold as shit.”

“It’s supposed to be sleeting by the time we wake up,” Kase says, snagging the can.

“Did she…” What the fuck am I even doing? “Does she look warm enough?”

He shrugs. “She’s got the space heater you and Arden bought. Then like three blankets. She’s probably fine. It doesn’t seem like she’s shaking or anything.”

I nod, swiping a cold hand over my face. Unless I plan to sneak in to check for myself, I’ll have to take his word for it, even if it is killing me.

I’ve never had someone trigger my instincts before, and it’s ridiculously hard to fight the urge to see that she’s safe with my own two eyes.

Arden drags Kase into the office early the next morning. I’m not sure how I won the vote to stick around and keep an eye out for Chelsea, but I’ll take it.

Sky and I go for our morning run, and we’re just on our cool-down lap around the block when I spot the repairman’s truck parked behind Chelsea’s car. He knocks and waits, but there’s no answer. He must have already tried a time or two, because he jogs down the stairs and back to his truck, like he’s about to haul ass. Honestly, I’m surprised he showed up at all on a Sunday.

“Hey,” I call out. “Don’t leave. I’ve got a key. She might be in the shower or something.” Frowning, I tug Sky along with me as I jog back to our house. There’s almost no chance Chelsea would shower knowing she’d have to climb out to a freezing house.

I snag Chelsea’s key off the keyring by the door and release Sky to go grab her after-jog drink. She tries to follow me back out the door, but I carefully close her inside.

There’s a part of me that relishes having an excuse to check on Chelsea, but an even bigger piece is just concerned.

The repair guy heads off toward the basement, and I beeline for Chelsea’s room. Knocking gently produces no response, so I let myself in like I have the right.

She really fucking needs a security system.

Or a dog.

The trainer we used for Sky is excellent, but I’m pretty sure she’s got a wait list. The room is warmer than it was in the rest of the house, which helps me feel minutely better.

Taking a seat on Chelsea’s bed, I stretch a hand over and brush my fingers along her cheek. “Chelsea, hey, sweetheart.”

Her pretty blue eyes pop open, but they’re bright red. She jolts, and her hand comes to rest on my thigh. “Lincoln?”

“Sorry. The repair guy is here to check out the furnace. He was about to leave…” I move to cup her forehead. “Are you running a fever, or is that from the space heater and all the blankets?”

“I’m fine,” she says, but she’s not very convincing. “I need the bathroom really bad, though. Would you mind hopping up?”

“Shit, sorry.” Pushing myself up, I twist to offer her my hands. She throws off the blankets, and I help her stand.

A smile crosses her face for a split second before she waddles off at a rapid pace. My eyes stay glued to her ass in that long-sleeve cotton pajama dress until the door closes, blocking my view.

Taking a seat on the edge of her bed, I find myself twisting to scent her sheets. Not only are they soaked with sweat, but her sweet sugary scent is everywhere.

My mouth waters, and the illogical urge to lick the material washes over me from nowhere.

Goddamn.

I would expect pregnant omegas to smell less appealing, not more. The sudden urge to bite her has to be because we’re a scent match. Her mattress just happens to be saturated with her scent, and that’s why my head is foggy.

It smells too much like a nest.

Speaking of which, this house doesn’t have a dedicated setup for one. She could use the smaller bedroom upstairs, but that would be a lot of work and might even require some renovations. Even then, I’m guessing she’ll eventually take over the two bedrooms upstairs for her and the baby, which would leave this room as the nest. It’s too big and has too many windows for that to be an easy transition.

She shouldn’t have a heat until the baby is somewhere between three months and a year old, but I’ve always heard that omegas nest regularly during pregnancy.

So, how the hell is Chelsea going to handle not having a proper nest?

She’s about to pop.

The door opens, and Chelsea comes out, running her hands down her sides. The closer she gets, the easier it is to spot the dark circles under her eyes.

“Thank you so much for letting the repair guy in,” she says, giving a weak smile. “I’m usually a light sleeper. I can’t believe I slept through him knocking or ringing the doorbell.”

“It’s no big deal.” I pat the bed at my side. “Come sit with me.”

She scurries closer in her thick white socks and takes a seat on the edge of the mattress.

Twisting to face her, I say, “None of us liked the idea of you having some strange person in the house. It was a vicious game of rock, paper, scissors, but I won.”

“Wait, you stayed home from work to keep an eye on me?” she asks, squinting.

“Yup. Friendships were tested, but I won, so here I am.” It’s a lie but a little white one.

She laughs, but it sounds weak.

My hands twitch as my instincts scream to pick her up and set her in my lap. She might not want to admit it, but she looks like she feels miserable, and my system seems convinced that snuggling her will help.