“You needed help.” He says it simply. “You called. We came. That’s what you do for people you care about.”
People you care about.
I don’t know what to say to that. So I don’t say anything.
“There it is,” Ben calls from somewhere ahead. “Porch light.”
Thank god.
The cabin appears out of the white like something from a dream. Warm light glowing in the windows. Smoke curling from the chimney.
“Home sweet home,” Milo murmurs.
The door swings open and then we’re inside, all of us, stumbling through in a rush of cold air and stomping snow. The warmth hits me like a wall and I make a sound that’s embarrassingly close to a whimper.
“Get her by the fire,” Elijah says, already moving.
Milo carries me across the room and sets me down on the couch in front of a crackling fireplace. The heat is immediate, glorious, and I have to bite back another embarrassing noise.
“Blankets.” Ben’s draping something heavy around my shoulders. Then another layer. Then another.
“I’ll make something hot.” Milo heads for the kitchen.
Elijah crouches in front of me, taking my hands in his. His thumbs brush carefully over my raw, cracked skin.
“These need to be cleaned,” he says quietly.
“They’re fine?—”
“Tessa.”
“Fine. Okay. Clean them.” I’m too tired to argue. That’s the only reason.
Ben drops onto the couch beside me, close enough that our shoulders touch. He doesn’t say anything. Just sits there, solid and warm, while Elijah examines my hands with careful fingers.
From the kitchen comes the sound of Milo moving around, cabinets opening and closing.
Three alphas. All of them here. All of them fussing over me like I’m made of glass.
I should hate this. I keep waiting to hate this. I’m Tessa Lang. I don’t need people hovering. I don’t need to be taken care of.
But I don’t hate it. That’s the terrifying part.
No one’s ever... I’ve never had people like this. People who show up. People who walk through a blizzard because I called. Foster families came and went. Social workers rotated out. Everyone in my life has always had one foot out the door, and I learned early not to need anyone too much.
And now there’s three alphas in this cabin who dropped everything to come get me, and I don’t know what to do with that. I don’t know how to let people take care of me. I don’t know how to have walls that aren’t ten feet thick.
But I’m exhausted. And warm for the first time in hours. And it’s getting harder and harder to remember why I built those walls in the first place.
“My car,” I say suddenly. “I left it on the road. Someone could hit it.”
“No one’s driving in this storm,” Ben says. “It’ll be fine until morning.”
“But—”
“Tessa. It’s fine.”
Right. Okay. The car is fine. Everything is fine.
