A knock at the door made me freeze.
"Can I come in?" Ellie was already halfway inside before I could answer. Her eyes found mine immediately. She wore gray sweatpants and a loose white t-shirt, her dark hair pulled back in a messy bun. The casual outfit didn't soften her assessment as her gaze swept over me.
"You look like hell," she said, but her voice was gentle. She crossed to where I sat and knelt in front of me. "Talk to me."
"Nothing to talk about." My voice came out sharper than I intended. "Just a sore ankle and a missing editor. Regular stuff."
Ellie didn't smile at my attempt at humor. She just waited, her brown eyes patient. Something in that steady gaze broke whatever was holding me together.
"I can't stop thinking about Mark." My voice betrayed me, cracking on his name. "Something's wrong. I know it."
I could feel the fight draining out of me. Tears threatened, but I refused to let them fall. I'd cried enough since coming to this place.
Ellie sat beside me, her hand warm against my back. "Come here."
I stiffened. I wasn't a hugger on my best days, and today was far from that. But Ellie's palm made slow circles between my shoulder blades, and the simple human contact after days of isolation weakened my resolve.
When she guided me to lie down, I didn't resist. We faced each other on the soft bed, her body a solid, warm presence against mine. She didn't speak, didn't offer empty reassurances about Mark. She just held me, one arm draped over my waist.
My breathing slowed to match hers. The panic that had been building all day began to recede, like a tide pulling back from shore. Not gone, but manageable.
"We're going to figure this out," she murmured, her breath warm against my hair.
Her hand moved from my waist to my arm, fingers trailing lightly along my skin. The touch shifted from comforting to something that made my breath catch. Her lips pressed against my temple, lingering there.
I leaned into her touch, seeking more of whatever she was offering.
Another knock at the door broke the moment. Ellie lifted her head but didn't move away from me.
"Everything okay?" Kara's voice, calm and controlled as always.
I glanced back to see her in the doorway, her eyes taking in the scene—me and Ellie on the bed, my face probably still showing every raw emotion I'd been fighting.
Ellie's eyes flashed, like something passed between them in a silent language I couldn't translate. Then Ellie nodded slightly.
"Sabine needs us," she said softly.
Without hesitation, Kara crossed the room. The mattress dipped as she settled behind me, her body curving against my back while Ellie remained facing me. I found myself sandwiched between them, surrounded by warmth and the clean scent of Kara's soap mixing with Ellie's vanilla.
Kara's fingers slid into my hair, gently working through the tangles of my wavy red curls. Ellie's palm rested on my hip, thumb making small circles against the fabric of my shirt. Their breathing slowed, and I felt mine adjusting to match, the tightness in my chest finally easing.
"We've got you," Ellie whispered.
Her hand moved from my hip to my stomach, no longer casual but deliberate. I felt Kara's lips press against my shoulder, then drift to the sensitive spot where my neck met my collarbone. A small sound escaped me.
I reached up to touch Ellie's face, tracing the line of her jaw. Her eyes darkened. When she leaned in, the kiss started gentle but quickly became something else entirely—hungry, deep, a confession neither of us had planned to make.
Kara's hands slipped under the hem of my shirt, her touch leaving fire in its wake. Suddenly clothes felt like barriers I couldn't stand. I tugged at Ellie's shirt, needing more, needing skin against skin.
What had begun as comfort transformed into something urgent and necessary, three bodies moving together in the dim light.
A shadow fell across the bed. I looked up through half-closed eyes to see Cam standing in the doorway, her tall frame silhouetted against the hallway light. Her face remained impassive, but her eyes burned with an intensity that made my skin flush hotter. She stood perfectly still, one hand resting on the doorframe, waiting.
"Come here, Cam," I whispered, my voice breaking with need. "Please."
She crossed the room in three long strides, her movements fluid and deliberate. The mattress dipped under her weight as she knelt at the foot of the bed. Kara shifted behind me, making space while keeping one hand possessively on my hip. Ellie's lips never left my collarbone.
Cam's calloused fingers gently grazed my sore ankle, then slid upward along my calf with agonizing slowness. I gasped as her hand found the sensitive spot behind my knee. Her touch was different from the others—rougher, more demanding, but no less careful.
