"Because of me. Because I brought you into this. Because my pack's trauma became your burden—"
"It's not a burden."
"It is." Cal's eyes finally met mine. They were anguished.
"That's not how this works."
"Isn't it?"
I shifted until I was facing him fully. Took his hands in mine.
"Listen to me," I said. "You didn't cause any of this. Whatever happened to your pack—whatever trauma broke you apart and sent Stone into that spiral—that was done to you. Not by you. The people who hurt you are responsible. The system that let it happen is responsible. You are not responsible for surviving."
Cal's jaw tightened. "I left them. In the wilderness.”
"You were unconscious when we found you. You didn't choose to leave anyone. And the moment you were able, you led us backto find them." I squeezed his hands. "You saved them, Cal. You and me together. Five ferals who would have died in the wild—they're here because of you."
"Stone almost killed you."
"Stone almost killed himself. I just happened to be in the way." I managed a small smile. "And he didn't. That's what matters. He stopped. He chose to stop."
Cal stared at me. Through the bond, I felt his guilt warring with something else. Something that wanted to believe me. That needed to believe me.
"I don't know how to forgive myself," he said quietly.
"You don't have to figure that out today." I leaned forward, pressed my forehead against his. "Just stay with me. Stay with us. Let us help carry this."
His breath shuddered out. His hands tightened on mine.
"Okay," he whispered. "Okay."
Ivy was waiting in our room when I finally made it back to the dorms.
It was past midnight. I'd intended to sneak in quietly, grab some clean clothes, maybe catch an hour of sleep before heading back to Stone. But the lamp on her side of the room was on, and she was sitting on her bed, and her expression when she saw me made it clear that sneaking wasn't an option.
"Sit down," she said.
I sat.
She stared at me for a long moment. Taking in the bandages on my neck. The exhaustion carved into my face. The way I moved like everything hurt.
"I've been patient," she said. Her voice was calm. Controlled. The kind of calm that preceded storms. "I've watched you disappear for weeks. I've made excuses for you when professors asked questions. I've covered for you with the RA, with our floormates, with everyone who noticed that my roommate was falling apart."
"Ivy—"
"I'm not done." She held up a hand. "I did all that because I trusted you. Because you said you couldn't tell me, and I believed that you had a reason. That when you could explain, you would."
She leaned forward.
"So explain. Now. Because those bandages on your neck look bad, and I'm about ten minutes away from reporting you as a victim of assault."
I took a breath. Let it out slowly.
"If I tell you," I said, "everything changes. You can't unknow it. You can't go back to normal."
"I don't want normal. I want the truth."
Fair enough.
