"The Moreaus are a good family," he pushes out, raising an eyebrow as if he’s testing my response. "Strong line. You'd do well."
I hold his gaze and give him nothing, waiting for him to decide whether he believes my composure or whether he is going to dig deeper. "I'll keep that in mind.” I punctuate my sentence with a nod, trying to push some ounce of Alpha into my words to support me.
"I'm sure you will."
He turns back to the woman, effectively ending the conversation. I should have known that it wasn’t really my choice to choose anything tonight. The Moreau arrangement has been circling the edges of family dinners for months now, never demanded, never directly stated, just mentioned with the calm certainty of weather.It will rain. You will mate Elias Moreau.Both are simply things that are going to happen, and the fact that no one has asked me whether I want them to happen is not an oversight. It is the point.
My fingers are still tapping. The salmon is still untouched. I should stay. Leaving now would disappoint Celeste and signal weakness to Lyric. But God, I want to run.
I put my napkin on the table and stand, hesitating just before pushing my chair out before sitting back down. A second later, I stand again, drawing Celeste’s frown.
"Early morning," I state to the room. The smile I give Celeste is the right one, the one I've been giving since I was old enough to understand that a Hollis Alpha does not leave a family dinner looking like he's fleeing. She pats my arm, while telling me to call about the gallery. I tell her I will, and immediately want to take it back or say anything that would crack this perfect veneer I've spent years polishing. Instead I swallow the rebellion and nod.
I manage another second at the table before heading for the entrance, not stopping until I’m entering the café six blocks from my house. The contrast in cold air from the evening to the warmth of the little shop has me pausing, my gaze walking across each of the tables to find the reason I came here.
Anxiety builds in my chest for every second I don’t see the one cousin who understands me until I find him sitting toward the back, away from everyone else just the way I need.
He's slouched in the corner booth like he was poured into it, one arm across the back of the seat, legs stretched far under the table. There is a black coffee sitting on my side, waiting for me. Some part of me is grateful. The other part is irritated Koda knew I wouldn’t survive at that family function any longer.
I take my seat and pull the coffee toward me.
"You lasted just under two hours. Bad one?"
"Lyric brought up the Moreaus."
"Mm."
He locks his phone and slides it into his jacket before looking at me with that expression, the one that makes people think Koda Hollis has never taken a serious thing seriously in his life.Loose mouth, easy eyes, a permanent suggestion of amusement that sits on his face like it was born there.
I want to hate him for it sometimes. I want to shake him until that mask cracks. But I've never corrected a single person who's underestimated him, never revealed what lurks beneath that practiced ease. Is it protection or betrayal? The kindest gift I could give him, or the most selfish thing I do? Let them see the charm. Let them miss the rest. Let me be the only one who knows.
"There's a new circuit out past the canyon," he starts, filling the silence. "Some guy from Phoenix brought an Evo. Thinks he can hang on the straights."
Relief blooms through my chest as Koda directs the conversation, making it easy to fall in after him. No one is asking me questions. No one needs me to make a decision. "Can he?"
"Not even a little bit."
Koda smirks as he goes into depth about the car, talking with his hands, voice climbing when he gets to the part where the driver mouthed off at a meet. I hate how much I crave these moments, the ones where I don’t have to think.
The ones where I don’t have to beon.
Here, in this little café, across from Koda, I’m just his cousin. We’re just two Alphas having coffee, talking about cars. Well,he’stalking and I’m listening.
I have never been sure whether it’s deliberate, whether he sat down at some point and decided that the way to handle me is to take every choice off the table and fill the space with something simple, or whether this is just how he is built and I am the one who turned it into medicine.
It doesn't matter. When Koda talks, I don't have to sort. I don't have to stack. I resent the relief even as I surrender to it, my fingers eventually going still against the warm ceramic of the mug.
"You look like you haven't slept in a week," he muses, folding it into the middle of a sentence about the Phoenix driver's tires as if it's the same conversation.
"I'm fine."
Koda just shakes his head as he drags a hand through his unruly hair. “Suit yourself, Sai. But you’re going to die at the rate you’re going.” He stands and tosses a bill on the table, too much for two coffees, the way he always overtips because money has never been something Koda thinks about. On the way past me, he squeezes my shoulder. "Whatever's keeping you up," he whispers, "either fix it or enjoy it."
I wish it were that simple but my parents require excellence. The whole family does. Except, excellence looks different for each of the Hollis Alphas. For Koda, it’s meeting timelines and collecting payments from unruly packs who’ve decided they don’t want to pay up.
For me?
It’s image. Punctuality.Perfection.
I hate it.
Neither of us is living our truth, but his lie is so much easier to live inside than mine, and I think he knows that. I think it’s why he never pushes, because pushing would mean making me look at the difference between us and he is too kind for that. Or maybe he's too afraid. Maybe we both are.
