"But," he adds quickly, "we're not empty, either. There's flour, pasta, eggs, frozen meat. A disturbing amount of protein powder… among other things. We'll be fine for a couple days.
"And worst case, you stocked up on those frozen cheese bites again," Liam says under his breath."
“And you’re welcome,” Felix shoots back, then looks at me. “Point is: we have enough. Nobody’s going hungry.”
The spinning feeling has mostly gone. My chest still feels tight, but less like it’s going to implode. My hands have stopped shaking.
“Better?” Felix asks.
I nod once. “Yeah. A little.”
“Okay,” he says. “So. Game plan. We’ve got a guest room you can use. Own bed, own bathroom, door that locks, all that. You can hole up there as much as you want, or come hang out. Your call.”
“Any chance the clothes you mentioned include pajamas?” I ask, because apparently my brain has latched onto logistics as the only manageable piece of this. “And please tell me they're washed. I am not wearing used alphas' clothes.”
His mouth curves. “Fair. And you won't be."
Behind him, Silas makes a low sound. “You don’t have to bend over backward for her,” he mutters.
Felix half-turns. “How about just being a decent person?"
Silas looks like he has an answer and swallows it. His gaze flicks to me and he sighs. “Do what you want.”
He heads for the hallway. Liam gives me a small nod, then follows.
The room feels different once they’re gone. Less crowded. I'm still not exactly relaxed, but better.
Felix blows out a slow breath, some tension dropping from his shoulders. “Ignore him,” he says. “He’s… not at his best, this time of year.” He gestures toward the hall. “Come on. I’ll show you where you’re staying.”
I stand, legs a little wobbly but behaving, and grab my handbag.
The hall is warm, lined with photos, not unlike the living room. At the end, he opens a door.
The guest room is bigger than my bedroom back in Manhattan. Queen bed, soft gray quilt, matching pillows. A dresser, a chair, a small desk. A door on the right stands half-open, showing a glimpse of tiled bathroom and towels on a rack.
The far wall is all window, where I see nothing but white.
My throat tightens again, but the earlier panic doesn’t crash back full force. It just… sits there.
"The clothes I told you about are in the closet," Felix says behind me. "Extra blankets too. Heater’s on its own thermostat, so you can set it how you like.”
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“No problem.” He lingers in the doorway. “We usually eat around seven. You’re totally welcome to join us. If you’d rather not, that’s fine too. Kitchen is fair game if you get hungry.”
I turn to look at him. He’s leaning one shoulder against the frame, hands in his pockets, expression open.
“I’ll… see how I feel,” I say.
“Works for me.” The dimple shows for a second. “If you need anything, just yell."
He closes the door with a soft click… and silence takes over.
I stand there for a long moment. Then I lie on the bed, eyes on the ceiling, listening to the distant hum of the heater and the relentless scrape of wind against glass.
How am I going to get my work done on time?
Chapter seven
