Just… wrapped in a comforter and burning from the inside out.
Jay waited, spoon poised.
I sighed, shifting minutely so my head rested more comfortably against Roan’s chest, and nodded.
“Fine.”
The first bite was warm and salty, the broth rich but mild. My stomach lurched at the sudden intake, then settled, welcoming it.
Not saying anything, Jay just fed me in slow, unhurried motions—giving me time between bites, letting me reclaim what little strength I could one spoonful at a time.
I hated how good it felt. The care. The quiet. The safety of it.
“I’m not usually like this,” I muttered between mouthfuls.
Jay lifted an eyebrow. “You mean, letting someone take care of you?”
I narrowed my eyes, and he chuckled, all soft and kind.
“I know,” he said. “It’s fine, Wren. You don’t owe me pride. You just need food, sleep, and, hopefully, to not burn yourself out trying to out-stubborn biology.”
I let out a small breath through my nose. “Easier said.”
“I’ve noticed,” he murmured, offering another bite.
I took it. The burn inside me didn’t lessen, but something about the food and the rhythm dulled the edge. Gave me enough presence of mind to think. To notice how carefully Jay moved, how he never leaned too close, how his scent—neutral, grounded—was just far enough from triggering to let me breathe.
“You’re good at this,” I said quietly.
Jay glanced at me. “Good at what?”
“This,” I gestured vaguely with my chin, the only part of me free to move. “Caretaking. Managing alphas and omegas in denial. Betas aren’t supposed to notice heats like this.”
His face remained still for a moment. Thoughtful. “I noticeyou,” he said simply. “That’s different.”
The words dropped between us, quiet and not meant to do harm. But they caught, somewhere deep.
I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Not with Roan breathing steadily behind me and Jay feeding me soup I hadn’t asked for but needed.
I was too full of want, of shame, oflonging. This without having even looked Roan in the eye since waking.
I didn’t know if Icould, but I would. Eventually. Because if I knew nothing else, I was aware that when this heat passed, I wouldn’t be able to keep running. Not anymore. Not now that they knew.
Jay kept feeding me in calm, deliberate intervals. Like he had all the time in the world.
He probably did.
There was never any rush in his movements. Every action was purposeful, grounded. The kind of control that wasn’t rigid. It was just there, woven into his being. Not dominance, not passivity, just… quiet strength. Reliable.
He held out another spoonful, and I took it without protest. The heat still pulsed through me in relentless waves, but eating helped. So did Jay’s scent. Clean, low, neutral. Not challenging. Not provoking. He made this possible.
When he offered the bottle of water next, I took it with my teeth and a huff of thanks.
He didn’t even blink.
“You always this good with invalids?” I asked between slow sips, the coolness soothing my throat.
His mouth twitched. “Only the difficult ones.”
