Slowly, my head turns. I know what I’m supposed to be doing. We planned it over and over again, so each of us would get a little time with her.
With our mate.
I pull in an unsteady breath. She’s here. Right here. Pale and silent and still. Sostill.
Wrong.
Kenny is vibrant sunsets, a light breeze on a forest hike. Laughter and attitude, sarcasm and sweetness. Sunshine, cherries and chocolate.
Not this.
Pulling my gaze away, I focus on what we agreed.
Scent-marking.Max and Jake have already spread out, moving around the room, touching and brushing everything they can reach.
My eyes land on her corner. Our shirts are still there, crumpled and balled, and my throat tightens as I walk over and crouch down, brushing my finger over them.
“Here,” Max says roughly. He’s holding out her blue blanket. “Mark this. Maybe she’ll use it.”
I lift it to my nose. It smells like this fucking room. Concrete. Cold.
“Max,” Oscar calls. He’s gone in a second, and I listen to their murmurs without turning around.
Even our shirts have lost their scent. Standing, I yank my sweatshirt over my head, folding it up and placing it on the floor before shrugging into the old shirt and heading to the small bathing area. An open doorway separates it from the main room, but I’ve never seen inside.
Steel and concrete. Everything is bolted down - hard, cold fucking steel. There’s a small bath, a toilet, and a sink.
“It’s like a prison,” Oscar says abruptly. He’s leaning in the doorway when I turn around. Even the light above us is harsh strip lighting, just like the ones in the hall outside.
I search for the words. “If this place is like this, what are the public ones like?”
I haven’t seen them. But Oscar has. I know he went to look.
Silently, he shakes his head. It’s an answer. “We don’t have long left. Come and see her.”
One hundred and eighty-nine days without her, and all we get is a few fucking minutes. I stride out, my steps faltering as Jake turns to me.
Kenny is cradled in his arms. I didn’t realise how broad he’d grown this year. How much all of us have grown.
“Take her,” he says gruffly. “Please. I can’t… I won’t let her go otherwise.”
Breathe.
I step up, extending my hands and slipping them beneath her as Jake stands still. His shoulders are tight as he turns away, heading to join Oscar.
Leaving me with our mate.
She doesn’t like the bed.
I step away, moving back to her comfort spot and settling down on the floor. And then I close my eyes for a moment, breathing in the warm weight of Kenny against my chest. The way her breathing sounds, slow and steady.
Nestling her head in the crook of my elbow, I rest her on my lap, nudging tangled strands of red away from her face. “Hey, baby.”
I feel like I can breathe again. Even as the air shudders, catches. As my breathing turns deeper and damp. “You gonna open those eyes? Speak to me, Ken.”
She can’t – I know she can’t. But I can’t stop torturing myself anyway, murmuring words to her that I know she can’t fucking hear. My thumb strokes over her cheek. “Did you know that Jake is actually a really good chef? He does this chicken dish you’d really like. I think he made it with you in mind, you know. For when you come home.”
I can’t stop looking. Not now I’ve started. “You’re coming home soon. But you need to show us you’re there. I need to see those brown eyes, baby.”
