I don’t know what it means. But my body knows it means something, because my blood is suddenly running hotter and my teeth ache with the urge to?—
No. Down.
I file it away. Keep my face neutral. But I catch Elijah’s eye across the room, and from the slight tension in his jaw, he’s noticed it too.
By the time she’s finished the bowl, the tension in her shoulders has eased even more. There’s actual color in her cheeks instead of the alarming blue-white she was sporting when we found her.
“More?” I ask.
“I couldn’t.”
“That’s not a no.”
She hesitates, then holds out the bowl. “Maybe a little.”
Ben laughs. Actually laughs, this surprised huff of sound that makes Tessa’s cheeks go pink.
“Shut up,” she mutters.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were thinking it.”
“Thinking what? That it’s nice to see you actually eat for once? That you look better when you’re not running yourself into the ground?” He nudges her shoulder with his. “Guilty.”
I grab the bowl and head back to the kitchen, hiding my grin. Ben Wilson, smooth talker. Who knew.
When I come back with the refilled bowl, Tessa’s still pink-cheeked, but she takes it without argument. Elijah’s moved from the floor to the armchair, but his eyes keep drifting back to her. Taking stock. Making sure she’s okay.
This is pack. The real thing, not the formal bonding ceremonies or the legal paperwork. Just people taking care of each other. Paying attention. Showing up.
“You should change,” Ben says once she’s finished the second bowl. “Your clothes are still damp. I’ve got sweats and a t-shirt you can borrow.”
“I’m fine?—”
“Tessa.” All three of us say it at the same time.
She blinks. “Did you rehearse that?”
“Didn’t have to,” I say. “You’re predictable.”
“I am not?—”
“You say you’re fine approximately forty times a day,” Ben says. “Even when you’re clearly not fine. It’s your default setting.”
“It’s annoying,” Elijah adds.
Tessa stares at him. “Did you just call me annoying?”
“Called your habit annoying. Not you.”
“That’s—” She shakes her head, but there’s no heat in it. “Fine. I’ll change. But only because I’m cold.”
“Whatever you need to tell yourself.” Ben disappears down the hall and comes back with a stack of clothes. Grey sweatpants, a black t-shirt, thick wool socks, and a flannel that looks soft enough to sleep in.
She takes them and heads for the bathroom. The door clicks shut, and the three of us just sit there in silence.
Elijah’s staring at his hands. The hands that were just holding hers.
