Noah and I returned home late Monday night, almost early Tuesday morning. It had been a long drive home, and we were both exhausted—physically and emotionally.
We trudged to our apartment, not saying a word to each other. All that either of us wanted was to slide into bed and get a few hours’ sleep before we had to face the world again. I could barely carry my high heels in my hands, let alone carry on a conversation.
Then Noah opened the door to the apartment. A smell wafted out and hit me square in the face, a smell that did not belong to Noah or me. I snapped to attention and instinctively growled.
Noah must have caught on to what I had smelled. He threw his arm out, keeping me behind him as we cautiously walked forward. He sniffed the air, as though he could identify the scent if h
