The question hung in the air, heavy and fragile. I could feel all of them watching me, waiting, giving me space to answer or not. For years, I'd kept this part of myself locked away. Hidden. Protected by walls so high and thick that even I couldn't see past them most days. But sitting here, surrounded by their warmth and their scents and the gentle crackle of the fire, something in me wanted to let them in.
"It was..." I started, then stopped, my throat tight, my voice catching on the word. I tried again, staring into the flames. "It depends on the house."
Kol's hand found my ankle, his fingers warm through my sock, grounding me with gentle pressure, his thumb stroking small circles against my skin.
"Some were okay." My voice came out rough, halting, the words dragged up from somewhere deep and buried. "The first few, when I was really little. I don't remember much from before I was five or six, but I remember... warmth, sometimes. People who tried." I paused, staring into the fire, watching the flames dance and flicker. "But those never lasted. Good foster parents are rare, and there are always more kids who need them. I'd be there for a few months, start to feel safe, and then I'd get moved."
"Why?" Kol's voice was soft, barely more than a whisper, his amber eyes bright with concern when I looked down at him, his fingers tightening on my ankle, his face open and vulnerable in the firelight.
"Different reasons." I shrugged, trying to make the movement casual and knowing I was failing, my shoulders tense beneath Reid's arm. "Sometimes the family moved. Sometimes they couldn't handle a kid with 'behavioral issues.'" I made air quotes with my fingers, bitterness creeping into my voice. "Sometimes they had a baby of their own and didn't need me anymore. Sometimes—" I stopped, swallowed hard, my throatclosing up around the words. "Sometimes there were other reasons."
Reid's arm tightened around me, pulling me closer against his side, his scent surrounding me like a protective wall. Sawyer had gone very still across the fire, his pale eyes intense and watchful, his jaw tight, his scarred hands clenched on his knees.
"You don't have to—" Nolan started, his voice gentle, his green eyes concerned, his body leaning forward with careful attention.
"The worst ones were the farms." The words came out before I could stop them, tumbling free like they'd been waiting years for permission, rushing out in a flood I couldn't control. "A lot of foster kids get placed on farms. Free labor, basically. Work from dawn to dusk, sleep in the barn or a back room, eat whatever scraps were left over." I laughed, and the sound was bitter, sharp-edged like broken glass. "Those placements paid well. The state subsidized them, and the families got free workers. Everyone won except the kids."
"Aster." Kol's voice cracked on my name, his amber eyes shining with unshed tears, his hand tightening on my ankle like he needed to hold onto me, his lower lip trembling.
"I was on four different farms between eight and fourteen." I kept going, unable to stop now that I'd started, the words pouring out like water through a broken dam. "Learned a lot. How to work cattle, mend fences, deliver calves. How to be invisible. How to not complain, not ask for anything, not take up space." My voice dropped to barely a whisper, rough and scraped raw. "How to survive."
"And after that?" Nolan's voice was gentle, but I could hear the controlled anger underneath it, his green eyes bright with fierce emotion, his jaw tight with suppressed rage.
"I ran." The word came out flat, hollow, landing heavy in the air between us. "At sixteen. Couldn't take it anymore—the last placement was..." I stopped, shook my head, unable to finish that sentence. "I just ran. Didn't look back. Been running ever since." I stared into the fire, watching the flames dance, unable to look at any of them. "Move from place to place. Work whatever job would have me. Don't stay too long. Don't trust anyone." I paused, my voice cracking like thin ice. "Don't let anyone close enough to hurt you."
The silence that followed was heavy, but not uncomfortable. They were giving me space, I realized. Letting me say what I needed to say without interrupting, without trying to fix it.
"That's why I almost ran again." My voice came out barely a whisper, rough with old pain and fresh tears threatening to fall. "When I showed up here. When Reid offered me a job, a place to stay. My whole body was screaming at me to run, because nothing good ever came without a price. Nothing was ever really free."
"It is here." Reid's voice was fierce against my ear, his arm like an anchor around my shoulders, his scent surrounding me completely—whiskey and woodsmoke and safety. "Whatever you need. No price. No strings."
"I know that now." I turned to look at him, at his dark eyes burning with protective intensity, his weathered face fierce with emotion that made my chest ache. "I didn't know it then. I'd never had anyone give me something without wanting something back."
"What made you stay?" Sawyer's voice was rough, the first time he'd spoken in a while, his pale eyes blazing in the firelight like blue flames, his scarred hands still clenched on his knees, his whole body tense with emotion.
I thought about it—really thought, trying to pinpoint the moment when running had stopped feeling like the only option.
"The way Nolan treated me." I said finally, my voice soft and wondering, my eyes finding his across the fire, his greengaze gentle and patient. "That first day, when he was checking me over. He asked permission before he touched me. Explained what he was doing. Gave me space to say no." My voice cracked, tears burning at the corners of my eyes. "No one had ever done that before. No one had ever treated me like my comfort mattered."
Nolan's eyes went bright with tears, his freckled face flushing with emotion, his throat working as he swallowed hard.
"And then he just... let me be." I continued, the words coming easier now, my gaze moving around the circle to each of them. "Didn't push. Didn't demand answers. Just gave me space and time and let me figure out if I wanted to stay." I looked around at all of them—Reid's steady strength, Kol's open warmth, Nolan's gentle wisdom, Sawyer's fierce protectiveness. "And then all of you did the same. You let me be skittish and scared and difficult, and you just... kept being kind anyway. Kept showing up. Kept treating me like I belonged here even when I didn't believe it myself."
"You do belong here." Kol's voice was fierce, his amber eyes bright with unshed tears, his whole body vibrating with intensity, his grip on my ankle almost painful. "You belong with us, Aster. I wish you'd known that from the start. I wish someone had told you."
"I know it now." My voice was rough, thick with tears I was fighting to hold back, my chest aching with emotion. "You tell me every day. All of you. In different ways."
The fire crackled between us, sending sparks up into the star-filled sky. Kol shifted, climbing up onto the log beside me, pressing close against my other side so I was sandwiched between him and Reid. His scent mixed with Reid's, orange blossoms and whiskey and warmth. Nolan and Sawyer moved closer too, until we were all huddled together in a warm mass of bodies and blankets.
"Thank you for telling us." Nolan's voice was soft, his hand finding mine across the tangle of limbs, his fingers warm and gentle, his green eyes bright with emotion. "I know that wasn't easy."
"It was easier than I expected." I admitted, squeezing his hand, feeling the warmth of his skin against mine. "I've never told anyone any of that. Never wanted to. But with you—" I stopped, struggling to find the words. "It feels safe. Like I can say the hard things and you won't use them against me."
"Never." Sawyer's voice was rough, fierce, his pale eyes blazing with protective intensity, his jaw tight with emotion. "We would never."
"I know." And I did. That was the miracle of it—I actually believed them. We sat in comfortable silence for a while, the fire burning low, the stars wheeling overhead. At some point, Kol's hand found mine, his fingers threading through mine with gentle pressure. Reid's thumb traced absent patterns on my shoulder. Nolan's presence was a warm weight against my side, and Sawyer's eyes, when I caught them across the dying flames, were soft with something that made my chest ache.
"More s'mores?" Kol's voice was soft, hopeful, his amber eyes gentle as he looked at me, his honey-blond hair mussed and falling across his forehead.
