“I’ll start on the kitchen,” Malik says. “Make sure everything’s cleaned up.”
“I’ll handle the bathroom,” Jalen offers.
“Living room,” Dax says, though his eyes linger on the fort with what looks like reluctance.
That leaves Sierra and me to finish the bedroom. We head back in and I strip the sheets while she gathers the last few items.The mattress looks bare and sad without all our layers of blankets and pillows.
“Should we take the nest materials?” I ask, gesturing to the pile Sierra set aside.
“I’ll take these,” she says, indicating a smaller stack. “You guys can divvy up the rest if you want them, or they’ll end up being thrown out. You know… since our scents are all over them and all.”
The casual way she says it makes something in my chest crack. Like we’re just roommates splitting up shared possessions after a lease ends, not pack trying to hold on to pieces of something precious.
We finish in the bedroom and move to help the others. Dax has dismantled the pillow fort, folding blankets even though I can see his jaw is tight. Malik’s wiping down kitchen counters that are already clean. Jalen’s organizing the bathroom like he’s preparing for an inspection.
We’re all coping in our own ways.
“I think we should do a final walk-through,” Sierra suggests when everything’s packed. “Make sure we didn’t leave anything.”
We move through the house together, checking each room. The kitchen where we cooked together. The living room where we watched movies and built forts and watched Sierra light up with laughter. The shower room where we gave her that bath.
Finally, the bedroom.
We stand in the doorway together, all five of us, looking at the space that changed everything. The bed where Sierra’s heat broke. Where we knotted her, one after another, giving her everything she needed. Where we slept tangled together afterward, content and complete.
Where we became pack, even if we didn’t say it out loud.
“This room,” Sierra says softly, and doesn’t finish the sentence.
She doesn’t need to.
We all know what she means.
“Yeah,” Dax agrees, his voice rough. “This room.”
We stand there for another moment, nobody wanting to be the first to turn away. Then Malik clears his throat.
“We should load the vehicles.”
Right. The vehicles.
Sierra’s car is still in the driveway where she left it days ago. Our truck is parked beside it, equally battered by debris from the storm but functional.
We carry our bags out, the morning air crisp and clean in a way that feels almost mocking. Like the world doesn’t understand the weight of what we’re doing.
I help Sierra load her trunk, fitting her bags around the supplies she brought but never used. The vibrators and toys that weren’t enough. The nest materials that now smell like all of us.
“That should do it,” she says, closing the trunk.
“Yeah.”
We stand there awkwardly for a moment. I have no idea what to say. How do you say goodbye to someone who’s become essential in the span of a week?
“Cole—” Sierra starts.
“We should exchange numbers,” I blurt out at the same time.
We both stop, startled.
