“It’ll be okay,” I said aloud to myself, hoping to soothe the ache. But the tears only came faster, burning my eyes, the inside of my noise, and my throat.
No… it won’t. And I was drowning at the thought of it.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Lex
The coffee mug felt heavy in my hand. Too heavy. Like someone had filled it with lead instead of caffeine.
I blinked hard, trying to focus on the words swimming across my laptop screen. Supply orders. Vendor contracts. The kind of administrative work that normally took me thirty minutes but had somehow consumed the last three hours.
My eyes burned. Dry and gritty like I’d been staring at a screen for days without blinking. Because I had been.
The vendor call last night had turned into a crisis negotiation. Their shipment was delayed. Equipment we needed for next month’s workshops was stuck in customs. I’d spent four hours on the phone, then another three drafting emails and researching alternatives. When I’d finally looked up, it was 2 a.m.
Majesty had been awake too, working on scheduling conflicts. We’d compared notes, made decisions, pushed through the exhaustion because the work had to get done.
I’d meant to go to bed after that. Had fully intended to climb the stairs and slip into bed with Cami. But then I’d seen an email from another vendor. And another scheduling issue. Andsuddenly it was five o’clock and starting a new day felt easier than trying to sleep for an hour. So here I was. Running on fumes and sheer stubbornness.
“You look like hell,” Majesty said, appearing in the kitchen doorway.
I glanced up. He didn’t look much better. Dark circles under his eyes, his usual easy energy dimmed to something more brittle.
“Speak for yourself,” I managed.
“I’m serious, Lex. You handled observations yesterday and now you’ve been up all night. When did you sleep last?”
I had to think about it. “Day before yesterday? For a few hours.”
“Jesus.” He moved to the coffee maker and poured himself a cup. His hand shook slightly. “We can’t keep doing this.”
“It’s just until observation week is done. Three more days.”
“Three more days of running ourselves into the ground.” He took a long drink of coffee and grimaced. “This tastes like battery acid.”
“It’s been sitting for a while.”
We both looked at the pot. I’d made it almost four hours earlier.
Footsteps on the stairs pulled my attention. Cami appeared, already dressed for the day, her hair pulled back in a ponytail. She looked at us and stopped.
“Morning,” she said, her voice careful.
“Morning, beautiful,” Majesty said, but even his usual warmth sounded forced.
She moved to the kitchen and started pulling out breakfast ingredients. Eggs, bread, fruit. Her movements were efficient but stiff.
“I’ll make breakfast,” she offered.
“You don’t have to do that,” I said, my words coming out slower than intended. Everything felt slower. Like I was moving through water.
“I want to.”
She cooked while Majesty and I sat at the table, both of us struggling to stay upright. When she placed plates in front of us, the smell of eggs and toast made my stomach turn. I picked up my fork anyway. Food was fuel. I needed fuel. Cami sat down with her own plate, but she just moved the food around. Not eating. Just rearranging.
“You okay?” Majesty asked, his voice rough with exhaustion. “You barely touched your food.”
She looked up, and I tried to focus on her face. She looked pale. Drawn. When had that happened?
