All three of them go still.
Ben’s nostrils flare. Milo’s eyes darken. Elijah’s hands curl into fists at his sides.
They can smell me.
Oh god. They cansmellme.
“I’m sorry.” The words tumble out, mortified. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—I can’t control?—”
“Hey, hey.” Ben’s in front of me suddenly, hands on my shoulders, grounding. “Don’t apologize. You don’t ever have to apologize for that. It’s natural.”
“It’s more than natural,” Milo says, voice rougher than before. “It’s... you smell incredible, Tessa. Don’t be embarrassed.”
“We’re alphas,” Elijah adds quietly. “We can handle it.”
I look up at Ben, still flushed with humiliation. “I don’t think I can wait three days.”
“Then you don’t wait three days.” His thumbs brush my shoulders. “We’ll figure it out.”
“But—”
“Look, it’s not so bad.” A hint of a smile tugs at his mouth. “You’re stuck here with us. And my jokes.”
A surprised laugh escapes me. “Your jokes are terrible.”
“They’re growing on you.”
“Like mold.”
His smile widens—a real one, the kind that transforms his whole face. “See? You’re already feeling better.”
I’m not. But somehow, impossibly, I’m also not feeling worse.
“Come on,” Milo says. “Breakfast first. We can talk through everything after you’ve eaten.”
The tight knot in my throat loosens. Just a little. Just enough that I can breathe.
They’re not panicking. They’re not making this weird. They’re just... here. Steady and warm and present, like this is just another problem to solve together.
I look at the scattered contents of my purse on the bed. At the window full of white. At the three men watching me with patience I don’t deserve.
“Okay,” I say quietly. “Okay. Breakfast.”
We eatat the kitchen table, the fire crackling in the other room. Ben’s breakfast is good—really good, actually—and I eat more than I mean to. My body is hungry in a way it hasn’t been in years, some deep animal need that the food barely touches.
Elijah reaches across the table and catches my wrist gently, turning my hand over to check the bandages. “These need changing. I’ll rewrap them after you eat.”
The casual way he says it—like taking care of me is just something he does now—makes my throat tight.
Milo was right about the coffee, though. It’s awful.
“So,” I say, pushing my empty plate away. “What do we do now?”
“Now?” Ben shrugs. “We wait. Not much else to do.”
“I don’t...” I shake my head. “I’ve never learned how to wait. How to just... do nothing.”
“It’s not nothing,” Elijah says. “It’s resting. You almost froze to death last night. Your body needs time to recover.”
