"We prepared a space," Oliver said carefully. "In case you ever wanted to stay. No pressure, no expectations. Just... a room that's yours, if you want it."
Something warm flickered in my chest, cutting through the numbness. They'd made a room for me. Before I'd even agreed to anything, before we'd defined what we were, they'd created a space where I could belong.
"Show me," I whispered, and I got a small smile in return as I was led out of the kitchen. The room was on the second floor, at the end of the hallway, positioned between Oliver's room and Garrett's. It wasn't large, but it didn't need to be. A queen-sizedbed dominated the space, piled high with pillows and draped in soft blankets in shades of cream and sage green. A window overlooked the back garden, currently dark but promising morning light. A simple dresser stood against one wall, and someone had placed a vase of dried lavender and sage on the nightstand.
My lavender and sage. From my garden.
"We can change anything you don't like," Garrett said quickly from the doorway. "The colors, the bedding, whatever. This was just... a starting point."
"It's perfect," I breathed, and I meant it. The room was simple and clean, but there were thoughtful touches everywhere. A soft rug beside the bed. Extra blankets folded at the foot. Books on the nightstand, gardening books, I realized, when I looked closer. Books about herbs and flowers and growing things.
"The bathroom is right across the hall," Micah said. "I took the liberty of stocking it with basic toiletries, but if you prefer specific brands---"
"Micah." I turned to look at him, at all of them, crowded in the doorway like they were afraid to intrude. "It's perfect. Really. Thank you."
Levi's face split into a grin. "Yeah? You like it?"
"I love it." And I did. Even through the exhaustion and the lingering hurt from the day, I could feel how much care had gone into this space. How much they'd been hoping I would eventually want to use it.
"There's some t-shirts and some sweatpants in the top drawer," Oliver said. "They're clean, just... something comfortable to sleep in. Unless you'd rather we go get things from your place?"
"No, this is fine." I couldn't imagine making them drive all the way to my cabin and back. "Thank you. For everything."
"We're right down the hall if you need anything," Garrett said, shifting as if he was nervous. "Anything at all. Even if it's the middle of the night."
"Get some rest," Oliver added, his green eyes soft with concern. "Tomorrow will be better." One by one, they said goodnight—Levi with an enthusiastic wave, Garrett with a gentle squeeze of my shoulder, Micah with a formal nod that somehow conveyed more warmth than most people's hugs. Oliver was last, lingering in the doorway for a moment like he wanted to say something more. In the end, he just smiled, soft and reassuring, and pulled the door closed behind him.
And then I was alone. I took a deep breath before I went to the dresser and looked at the clothes for a minute before I changed into them. It was then I figured out who they belonged to Oliver's, when his scent enveloped me, rum clinging to the soft cotton. The t-shirt hung past my thighs, the sweatpants rolled multiple times at the waist and ankles. I looked ridiculous. I didn't care.
I climbed into the bed, pulled the covers up to my chin, and waited for sleep to come. It didn't.
I lay there in the darkness, staring at the ceiling, my mind replaying the day on an endless loop. Trinity's face, twisted with rage. Her words, sharp as knives, finding every vulnerable spot I'd ever tried to hide. The way the crowd had turned to look at me, all those eyes, all that attention focused on my shame and my secrets.
Nobody wanted you.
I turned onto my side, pulling my knees to my chest. The bed was comfortable, the room was warm, but I felt... exposed. Vulnerable. Like the walls weren't quite thick enough to keep the world out. Something restless stirred inside me. As if something was pacing beneath my skin like a caged animal. It had been onedge all day, ever since Trinity had appeared at the market, and now it was demanding something I didn't quite understand.
Not safe, something seemed to whisper.Not secure. Need to fix it. Need to make it right.
I sat up, looking around the dim room. The streetlight outside cast faint shadows through the curtains, illuminating the pile of pillows at the head of the bed. The stack of extra blankets at the foot.
Before I fully registered what I was doing, I was moving. I grabbed the blankets first, shaking them out and examining them in the low light. One was thick and plush, a deep forest green. Another was softer, lighter, cream-colored with a subtle pattern. A third was some kind of weighted blanket, heavy and grounding. I dragged them all to the center of the bed and started arranging them, layering them in a way that felt instinctively right. Then the pillows. There were so many pillows---had they done that on purpose? Some part of me suspected they had. I gathered them all, building walls around myself, creating barriers against the outside world. Two behind me for support. One on each side. More piled in front, creating a cocoon of softness that blocked out everything but the immediate space around me.
It wasn't enough. I almost keened with dissatisfaction, and I found myself looking around the room for more materials. The rug, too big to move easily. The curtains…no, I needed those to block the light. But there, draped over the chair in the corner...A throw blanket I hadn't noticed before. I padded across the cold floor and grabbed it, bringing it to my nose instinctively.
Garrett. Cedar and woodsmoke. Something in my chest loosened, just a little. I added the blanket to my growing nest, tucking it around the pillows on my left side. Now the arrangement felt unbalanced. I needed more. I needed...
I was out of the room before I could second-guess myself, padding down the dark hallway on silent feet. The house was quiet, but not silent, I could hear the low murmur of voices from somewhere downstairs, the creak of the old floors settling. I paused outside the first door I came to, heart pounding.
Levi's room. I could tell by the faint scent seeping under the door…I shouldn't. It was weird. It was invasive. It was…My hand was on the doorknob before I could stop myself.
The room was empty, Levi must still be downstairs with the others. I slipped inside, guilt and desperation warring in my chest, and scanned the space. There, on the bed. A hoodie, tossed carelessly across the unmade covers.
I grabbed it and fled back to my room, clutching it like a thief with stolen treasure. Then I went back. To Micah's room this time, where I found a cashmere sweater folded neatly on a chair. I took it.
Garrett's room yielded a flannel shirt that smelled so strongly of cedar I nearly buried my face in it right there in his doorway. By the time I made it back to my room, my arms were full of stolen clothing, and my omega was practically purring with satisfaction. I wove the items into my nest with careful precision, tucking Levi's hoodie against the pillows on my right, draping Micah's sweater over the blankets near my feet, arranging Garrett's flannel where I could reach out and touch it. Oliver's scent was already everywhere, in the clothes I wore, in the room itself, so I positioned myself at the center, surrounded on all sides by pieces of them.
For the first time all day, I took a full breath.
