The Queen by Jennifer L. Armentrout

Chapter 8
My house looked like it had when I left.
Gray-and-white-checkered throw pillows were fluffed and placed at
the corners of the couch. A stack of books was piled neatly on the coffee
table. Several tiny stuffed mice had been collected and left by a foyer table
where all the mail had been placed. A pair of sandals sat on the bottom
step of the staircase leading upstairs. Above them were black and white
sneakers that belonged to Tink. The kitchen was utterly spotless, which
was almost impossible with Tink living here.
My gaze flickered over the living room. This was where Aric had
grabbed me. He’d been waiting for me, and I’d walked right in, having no
idea that he was here. I knew that if I closed my eyes, I would hear his
voice.
I hear you’ve been looking for me.
I didn’t close my eyes, but his voice was still like a whisper in my
ear.
“I tried to keep things the way you had them.” Ivy had moved ahead
of me, her long, curly red hair pulled up in a messy topknot. “I even
dusted.”
“Actually, it was me who dusted,” Ren said, coming down the stairs.
He’d quietly gone up there when we entered, and I knew he was scoping
out the rooms, making sure no one was here.
Ivy rolled her eyes. “But I was the one who gave him the supplies.”
“It was a joint effort then.” I ran my hand along the back of the
couch. “Thanks, you guys. I had no idea what to expect when I returned.”
“It was no problem at all.” Ivy looked down as Dixon pranced out
from the kitchen, rubbing against her legs. Bending, she scratched him
behind his ear.
Ren leaned against the banister of the stairs. “You sure you’re ready
to be back here?”
“More than ready.” I forced a smile that felt as fake as pleather.
The two of them exchanged a look, and I knew they had questions.
Lots of them.