She blushes, and the rest of the ride is quiet.
By the time we pull into her parking spot, she’s pale with exhaustion.
“I need to lie down,” she whispers.
“I’m coming with you.”
She doesn’t argue.
Inside, Talon is on his feet instantly, eyes searching her face like he expects to find bruises. Minxy is right behind him, cereal bowl in hand. Silas watches from behind, arms crossed but tense.
“What happened?” Talon asks.
“He believed me,” Penelope says softly.
Then her knees wobble.
I catch her before she tips.
“She needs rest,” I tell them. “This was a lot.”
Silas nods once, all clipped control, but there’s relief under it. “Go,” he says quietly. “We’ll handle everything else.”
Talon looks torn, like he wants to wrap himself around her until she never feels like this again.
Silas steps forward, voice gentler than it’s been all day.
“I was with her. I know she’s okay,” he says. “You two go be with her now. I’ll hang out with our sassy little niece.”
Minxy lights up. “Finally. Someone to share my emotional support cereal.”
Penelope manages a faint groan. “Silas, don’t get used to cereal for snack.”
“I make no promises,” he deadpans, but his eyes are soft on her. Then he jerks his chin toward the hallway. “Go. She needs you both.”
He steps aside, giving us space to guide her to the bedroom while he and Minxy drift toward the kitchen. I guide Penelope to the bedroom. Talon trails behind us, worry written in every line of his face.
She sinks onto the edge of the bed, and I brush a hand down her spine.
“You want me to stay?” I ask.
She nods.
Talon starts backing out the door. “I’ll give you space.”
“Talon,” Penelope says softly.
He pauses.
“Stay.”
His breath stutters. He steps back inside, quiet but hopeful.
I sit beside her, tipping her chin toward me. “Lie down.”
She stretches out, hair spilling across the pillow. She looks wrung out and beautiful and mine in ways I don’t have language for.
Talon stands awkwardly near the foot of the bed.
