Page 115 of Dream Girl
The room now smelled nice and bleachy. Everything was in its place. No clutter. No fuss. No one would think I was a slob and get mad.
I made my bed, using only the bare minimum of pillows, making the corners nice and tight. Mr. Hippo, now clean and brushed, sat in the position of honor. One stuffy was allowed. I put the teddy Evan gave me in the wardrobe, giving him a kiss as an apology.
Folding all the now-clean blankets, I put them away in the chest under the window seat, along with all the throw pillows but two, which I put in the window seat. Three?
No. That would be too indulgent. I didn’t want anyone to get angry.
I stood back and admired my work. Perfect. Nice and neat. Not even my mother could complain. I yawned as fatigue pressed down on me.
The room was clean, so now I should be clean. After taking a quick shower, with extra soap, in Evan’s bathroom so I wouldn’t wake anyone by using Wes’, I went back to my room and put on a pair of PJs. My hair was wet, but I was too tired to dry it. Flipping off the bedroom light, I sprayed the room one last time with deodorizer, and grabbed Mr. Hippo.
Not wanting to mess up my nice clean room, I crawled under the bed, and went to sleep, curled on the soft rug with Mr. Hippo to keep me company.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Evan
Afeeling ofwrongnesstugged at me, and I sat up in Wes’ bed, looking around in the darkness. Wes was right there, a big lump in the blankets, but Grace…
Grace wasn’t in bed with us. Huh. It was still the middle of the night. Maybe she went to the bathroom? After a couple of moments, she still hadn’t come back. I slid out of bed, Wes not moving. That man could sleep through almost anything.
Where was Grace?
She wasn’t in his bathroom. Mine, maybe? No, but it seemed like she had recently taken a shower–and used my scent-removing body wash I used sometimes. Odd. Usually, she used my other one, or Wes’.
“Grace?” I called, checking the rest of my suite. My phone was by my bed. No text from her. No Grace.
Maybe she was in her room.
“Grace?” I knocked on the open door, the stench of industrial cleaning products and airborne scent remover hitting me so strongly it made my eyes tear. “Grace?” I flipped on the light. “I’m coming in.”
Panic at not seeing–or smelling–her coursed through me. I tried to reach through the bond, but it was still pretty spotty.
I searched the room with my eyes. She wasn’t in her bed or the window seat. She had alsocompletely disassembled her window seat nest.
My heart pounded as I took in her room.
It was gone. The little round canopy. The lights. All the pillows and blankets. Even the books she’d had on the shelf Jett built her this morning. I opened the window to alleviate the chemical smell of de-scenter. I opened the bottom of the seat, looking for all the blankets and pillows we’d gotten her. The bleachy aroma of scent-removing laundry detergent hit me.
Grace had washedeverything—and not with the detergent I’d told her to use. No, she’dsanitizedthem with the other stuff I’d found in there, stripping everything of our scents.
The daybed had gotten the same treatment. The gauzy canopy and lights, gone. Only two pillows on the bed. Sheets with perfect military corners–the cozy comforter and fluffy blankets no longer there. Everything smelled of the same detergent. There wasn’t even a single blanket on the bed, just sheets.
My throat swelled. She’d taken everything down and eradicated her presence. Then she’d doused the room in de-scenter.
She’d erased herself.
It had just started to look likeherroom. Now, it looked and felt like a guest room.
Worry coursed through me. I thought she was doing okay. Sure, Brennan had unsettled her tonight. But Wes had comforted her, and we’d gotten her to eat cake and have fun again.
The night ended up with the three of us in Wes’ bed having great birthday sex.
What had happened? Most importantly, where was Grace?
She wasn’t in the wardrobe, or in the place between the bed and the wall–small places scared omegas might hide. Panic shot through me.
“Grace, where are you?” I heard a faint beeping sound. What was that?
