They could leave tomorrow.
What happens then?
I force myself to take another bite, chewing mechanically while the four alphas around the table do the same. The silence is suffocating. Tense. Heavy with all the things none of us are saying.
Dax is staring at his plate as if it contains the secrets of the universe. Malik keeps glancing at the window, at the gray light filtering through those opened shutters. Jalen is pushing his eggs around with his fork, creating patterns in the residual moisture. And Cole… is watching me.
I can feel his gaze even though I’m determinedly not looking at him. Can feel the weight of it, the question in it.
What now?
I don’t know. I don’t have an answer. My brain is still foggy from heat recovery and overwhelmed from everything that’s happened in the past seventy-two hours. I’m not equipped to make life-altering decisions about what four alphas mean to me or what I want or?—
“This is really good,” I blurt out, because someone needs to break this awful silence. “The eggs. They’re perfect.”
Cole’s lips twitch. “Thanks.”
“No, really. Like, restaurant quality. Do you cook a lot?”
“When I have time,” he says. “Which isn’t often with our schedule, but...”
He trails off. More silence.
I take another bite. Chew. Swallow. Try not to think about how in twenty-four hours, we could all be going our separate ways.
Try not to think about how much that thought makes my chest hurt.
When I finally can’t force down another bite, I set my fork down carefully. “That was delicious. Thank you.”
“You barely ate half,” Malik observes, concern flickering across his face.
“I’m still...” I gesture vaguely. “My appetite isn’t quite back yet.”
It’s not entirely a lie. Post-heat recovery does affect appetite. But mostly I just can’t eat when my stomach is tied in knots about the impending conversation we’re all avoiding.
I stand up, immediately regretting it when everyone’s attention snaps to me like I’ve done something alarming.
“I’m fine,” I say quickly. “Just... clearing my plate.”
Dax is already on his feet. “I’ll get it.”
“It’s fine. You don’t have to. I can carry my own plate to the sink.”
“I know you can.” His hand is gentle as he takes the plate anyway. “But you don’t have to.”
The careful way he says it, like he’s trying not to spook me, makes my heart ache with a strange, sweet pang.
They’re going to leave, my omega whispers.They’re going to walk away, and we’ll be alone.
I shake off the thought and move toward the living room, mostly because I don’t know what else to do with myself. Should I go back to my nest? Except that feels too vulnerable, too much like retreating. Should I help clean up? Except they’ve made it clear they want to take care of me.
Should I just... stand here awkwardly while we all pretend everything is fine?
“Cards?”
I turn to find Cole holding up a deck, one eyebrow raised in question. “Thought we could play something. Pass the time.”
Pass the time until what? Until the roads clear and reality comes crashing back?
