Adjusting.
As if I had a choice.
As if this isn't me going numb because feeling anything at all became too dangerous.
"Is there something you need, Alpha?" I ask, because the conversation feels like it should have a point and I want it over.
He studies me for another beat. "No. Just checking in."
"I'm fine."
He nods, satisfied, and leaves.
The second he's gone, I have to grip the edge of the counter to keep my hands from shaking.
I used to run to him when I was scared. Crawl into his lap when I needed to feel cared for and safe. Let him wrap his arms around me and tell me everything would be okay.
Now the thought of being that close to him makes my stomach turn.
Not because he'd hurt me—not physically, anyway. But because I can't forget the way his scent warmed for Marie in the nesting store. The way his voice gentled for her after the bakery. The way he held me in his lap during that movie and it felt like obligation instead of want.
He chose her.
His biology chose her.
And I'm just... the one he's stuck managing until he figures out a cleaner way to let me go.
Movie night follows the same pattern it has for weeks now.
Ragon at one end of the couch, solid anchor. Marie tucked next to him, half under his arm. Drake beside her, always touching—knee to knee, shoulders bumping. Eli in the recliner angled toward them.
Me in the single armchair by the far wall.
Jasper in the other armchair, or standing, arms folded.
Tonight it's some action movie Drake picked. Explosions and banter and improbable stunts.
"Okay, but physics," Eli mutters.
"Let him have his moment. You're ruining my fantasy."
"Your fantasy involves spinal injuries. I'm concerned."
They snicker. Marie giggles, hand flying to her mouth, until Drake gently pulls it down and threads their fingers together.
I feel something pop behind my ribs.
"Vee?" Drake calls halfway through. "You awake back there?"
"Mhmm."
I'm curled in on myself, one arm wrapped around my own waist because I need pressure and this is the only way I'm allowed to get it.
"Popcorn?" Eli offers, lifting the bowl slightly.
The kind of kindness that would have landed soft a month ago.
Now it's a knife because that's all he's allowed to offer.
