Chapter 56

Agnes

The clouds shifted slightly in the sky, casting a pale blue shaft of moonlight across the room that revealed Elijah standing in the doorway.

He was leaning against the door frame, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his tie missing, revealing the strong lines of his forearms. His hair was tousled, like he had been running his hands through it, and a glass of whiskey dangled loosely from his fingertips.

His eyes were fixed on me, dark and unblinking.

My cheeks flamed. How long had he been standing there? I scrambled to find the right words, my voice coming out embarrassingly shaky. “I—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“To what?” he asked, his tone calm, almost lazy, as he tilted his head slightly.

“To interrupt your quiet time,” I finished, biting my lip. “I know I’m a terrible singer.”

For a moment, he didn’t respond. He just kept staring at me, his gaze unreadable. Then, to my utter surprise, he took a slow sip of his whiskey and said, “Don’t apologize. It was lovely.”

I blinked at him, sure I must have misheard him. “Lovely?”

He nodded, his voice softening ever so slightly, as he added, “I’ve always loved the sound of a woman’s voice. It’s… comforting.”

The heat in my face deepened, spreading down my neck, and I was suddenly very glad for the dim lighting. “Oh. Well, thank you.”

He didn’t respond. Instead, he gave me one last lingering look before turning and striding away, the sound of his footsteps fading down the hall. I stared after him for a long moment, my heart thudding in my chest, before finally managing to shake myself out of it.

I tucked Thea’s blanket a little tighter around her and left the room, my mind still spinning from what had just happened.

Later that night, I lay in bed, staring at the dark ceiling and trying to fall asleep. But no matter how many times I adjusted my pillow or shifted beneath the covers, my thoughts kept circling back to Elijah.

The way he’d looked at me. The way he’d spoken to me. The way his voice had lingered on the word ‘comforting,’ as if it held more meaning than he let on.

I squeezed my eyes shut, willing myself to stop overthinking every little interaction between us. It was just a compliment and nothing more. Elijah had told me outright that there was no chance of our relationship becoming romantic, so why did I keep reading into everything?

Still, my pulse quickened when I heard the faint creak of the bedroom door opening.

I shot upright, clutching the blanket to my chest. Elijah was standing in the doorway, swaying slightly where he stood. The faint scent of whiskey lingered in the air, mingling with his cologne, and I knew instantly that he was…

Drunk.

“Elijah,” I said hoarsely, clutching my blanket a little tighter, “what are you doing in my room?”

He paused for a moment, not speaking. I could hardly see his face in the dim light, but I could see the flicker in his eyes. Frustration. And maybe something else.

“I can’t sleep,” he said simply.

Frowning, I glanced at him up and down, taking in his disheveled appearance. His hair was even more tousled from before, the white t-shirt he was wearing taught across his chest muscles. He was barefoot, his plaid pajama pants hanging loosely around his hips.

“How much did you have to drink?” I asked tightly.

He shrugged. “More than usual. Couldn’t sleep, so I had another, and another. But now…” His voice trailed off.

I paused for a moment, chewing on the inside of my cheek. Elijah usually went to his study for an hour or two every night before bed. I didn’t usually intrude, but on the rare occasion I had entered to ask him something, I’d find him sipping a glass of whiskey and listening to music or just watching the flames crackle in the fireplace.

But I wasn’t sure if I’d ever seen him get drunk.

Was everything okay, I wondered? Was something stressing him out? If I asked what it was, would he even admit to it?

Sighing softly, I finally said, “Is there anything I can do to help you?”

He was silent again for a long time. I honestly thought he was too drunk to know what he was doing, that he might just turn around and leave. But I never expected him to say what he said next.

“Can you sing for me?”

My eyes widened into saucers. I opened my mouth to respond, but no words would come. Not that it mattered, anyway. After what he said earlier… I couldn’t bring myself to say no.

So, with a silent nod, I patted the empty spot next to me. He hesitated for a moment before crossing the room and laying down beneath the covers, the mattress dipping under his weight.

For a few moments, as I laid down beside him, there was an awkward quiet that settled between us. My heart pounded with anticipation, and each time I went to start singing, I found my throat all choked up.

Normally, humming or singing a soft tune was nothing to me. I enjoyed doing it when I was working, and especially when I put Thea to bed. But this felt… different. Here was a grown man, an Alpha who kept saying there was nothing between us, laying in my bed in need of my comfort.

And here I was, eager to give it to him.

The notes came out slow and shaky at first, my throat clenching involuntarily. I cleared my throat, my face reddening, and was glad for the dark room.

Elijah stilled instantly.

I hesitated for a moment, wondering if I should stop. But once more, I thought about what he’d said earlier—that he loved the sound of a woman’s voice, that it was comforting—and I took a deep breath, letting the words of the lullaby slip past my lips.

The room felt different as I quietly sang, the tension in the air slowly easing. I could sense Elijah relaxing beside me, his breathing evening out little by little.

When I finally let the last note fade into the quiet room, the silence that followed was almost heavy. I turned my head slightly, glancing over at him through the dim moonlight seeping in through the windows.

He was asleep.

Not just asleep, but completely and utterly at peace, his features softened in a way I rarely saw. The usual furrow in his brow was gone, replaced by a calmness that made him look years younger. The faint lines around his eyes and mouth had seemed to vanish, leaving behind a face that was almost boyish in its tranquility.

I couldn’t help but smile as I watched him. There was something about seeing him like this that made my chest ache in the strangest way. He looked… vulnerable. Handsome. And peaceful.

For a moment, I let myself imagine what it would be like to move closer to him, to curl my body against his and fall asleep to the sound of his heartbeat. But I quickly shoved the thought aside, turning away and closing my eyes.

The next morning, I woke to an empty bed.

The sunlight streaming through the curtains told me it was already later than I usually liked to wake up, even on a Saturday, and I groaned and pushed myself upright. But as I reached for my phone on the nightstand, something else caught my eye.

A folded piece of paper sat neatly beside the lamp. I picked it up, unfolding it carefully, and my breath hitched as I read the words scrawled across it in Elijah’s familiar handwriting.

“I’ve never slept so peacefully in my life. Thank you.”

My heart fluttered, a small smile tugging at my lips as I stared at the note. For a moment, I just held it, tracing the words with my fingertips.

Then, without really thinking, I opened the drawer of my nightstand and tucked the note inside for safe keeping.