Hot and heady. Intimate in a way that made my heart stutter in my chest. That blanket hadheldher—probably for hours. Maybe days. It was soaked in her, steeped like tea, andfuck me,it was glorious and devastating andnot mine.
I reeled back half a step, sucking air in through my teeth.
Not enough. Notclean. Every breath I took was full ofher.
“I’m sorry,” Wren said suddenly, her voice small and raw as she crossed her arms over her chest. “I should’ve washed them—I meant to, I just— I can’t seem to keep my scent under control anymore.”
The pain in her voice sliced straight through my ribs.
But before I could say something—anything—Roan answered. Firm. Calm. Steady. “Don’t worry about it.”
And what thehell—how was he this composed?
He didn’t even blink. Didn’t shift his weight or clench his fists orreactin any of the ways I knew his body was probably screaming to.
It was like his dominance built a wall around him, and somehow Wren’s need didn’t pierce it the way it was gutting me from the inside out.
How was henotunraveling?
I had no goddamn idea.
Jay took the blankets and towels to the kitchen and opened the tiny stacked washer-dryer in the closet. His movements were smooth, practical. I didn’t even think he was trying to scent-mark or assert some kind of claim—it wasn’t that.
He was justtaking careof her.
“Wren,” he called gently as he dropped the last towel in and started the wash cycle. “You need more water. And something to eat.”
Caretaker voice. I’d seen Jay use it before, usually on rookies who’d collapsed after an overlong training skate orgot heat exhaustion on an away game. It was clinical. Cool. Compassionate without inviting pushback.
And I realized?—
He wasn’t holding the lineforher.
He was holding itwithher.
Maybe I was the only one seeing it. The way he folded into that role without question. Without hesitation. Not weakness. Not a passive thing. He was just...there.
Like he always was.
Wren gave a shaky laugh—sharp and brittle and too real.
“Oh my god,” she said, pressing a hand to her forehead. “This is either the worst moment of my life or the most humiliating. No, wait—maybe both. I’m going for the double.”
The sound of it—it was beautiful andawful, a little wild and a little too close to a sob.
Roan finally moved, just a step forward, arms still loose at his sides, his body language a masterclass in non-threatening.
“Focus on the funny part,” he told her. “The rest is just noise.”
Andshit—the fact that his voice didn’t even tremble?—
That was what held me together.
So, I leaned into it. Into the only thing Icouldoffer in that moment.
“Hey,” I said, throwing on a grin even if my voice came out rougher than I wanted. “You think this is bad? At least you’re not stuck in a cabin in the middle of nowhere with three guys trying not to spontaneously combust like badly written fanfic.”
Wren blinked. Her mouth twitched.
