"How are you feeling?" Eli asks, sitting on the edge of the nest with careful precision.
"Like I'm grounded," I say bitterly. "How are you?"
"Tired," he admits. "And worried."
"About her?" I can't keep the bite out of my tone.
"About you," Eli says firmly.
I look away.
He sighs. "Ragon shouldn't have dropped those restrictions on you in the middle of everything."
"Oh, but you agree with them," I say.
He hesitates. "I agree you needed some boundaries. I don't love the timing or the delivery."
"That's very diplomatic of you."
"I didn't come in here to defend him," Eli says. "I came to check on you. And to ask if you might consider helping anyway."
I stare at him. "With what?"
"The room," he says. "Just a little. You don't have to like her to make sure she has a decent blanket and a lamp that won't give her a headache."
"Wow," I say. "Appealing to my better nature. Bold move, doctor."
His lips twitch. "It's in there somewhere. Under all the justified rage."
I scowl at the blanket. "I don't want to make her comfortable. I want her to be so uncomfortable that she leaves."
"I know," Eli says. "But you'd want someone to do it for you, if you were walking into a new pack house scared out of your mind."
He's right. That's what makes me angrier.
"Stop being reasonable," I grumble.
"I can't. It's in the contract."
I let out a choked laugh despite myself.
Eli takes advantage of the tiny crack. "Come with me. Just for a few minutes. Pick a pillow. Or a mug. You don't even have to stay in the room. Just participate."
I groan into the blanket. "If I say no, what happens? Does Ragon add another day to my sentence?"
"He doesn't know I'm in here," Eli says. "This is between you and me."
I peek up at him. "Is this you helping me be a good omega?"
"This is me helping you not regret the things you do while you're hurt," he says.
Annoyingly fair.
"Fine," I mutter, throwing the blanket off. "But if I see one thing in there that looks like a spa brochure, I'm leaving."
Eli smiles, small and genuine. "Deal."
I follow him down the hall, every step heavier than it should be. The door to the spare room is open now. The mattress is on a simple frame, dressed in basic sheets. The dresser's been wiped down. The window's open a crack, letting in the faint scent of cut grass and passing cars.
