She doesn't have to.
Heat floods my face.
Guilt slams into the place where contentment was.
Drake's scent spikes—shame, confusion, self-reproach. "Oh, sweetheart. I'm sorry. I didn't think—"
"No. Youdidn't."
He flinches like she slapped him.
Ragon's jaw is tight. Eli's eyes flick to mine, full of apology he hasn't earned.
I hover in the doorway, suddenly unsure if I'm allowed in this room.
Marie clutches at Drake's shirt. "I know I said I could share. I know. I meant it. I just— I've had you so much, and then hearing you with her, it felt like you were being taken away. Like I was back there."
There meaning whatever hell she came from before us.
I should feel empathy.
I do.
It's buried under a mountain of hollow, embarrassed hurt.
Drake scoops her up without thinking, strong arms tucking under her knees and back. He stands, cradling her against his chest.
"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."
He doesn't look at me.
Eli does.
His expression saysI'm hereandI'm angry for youandI understandall at once.
I wrap my arms around myself.
"What did I do wrong?" I ask, and my voice sounds very far away.
Ragon looks up at me.
For once, his eyes aren't hard. They're tired.
"You didn't do anything wrong. Marie's having a hard time sharing Drake after having so much of his attention. That's not on you."
"It feels like it is."
"Her reaction is about her history. About scarcity. Not about you stealing. You and Drake are allowed to be together."
Marie sniffles against Drake's shoulder.
The timing of his reassurance feels off.
"Maybe. But I'm not the one being comforted and loved right now."
Drake's scent wavers, torn.
"Vee—"
