I curl against him, fighting back tears. It isn’t fair. It isn’t fair that I’m going to lose all of this. Because no way they’ll still want me around once I start acting weird. Shouting at things that don’t exist.
I didn’t want my own mother around.
I fist his shirt. “I’m scared,” I whisper.
“I know.” He rubs my back. “I’ll keep you safe, though.”
I want to believe him. More than anything. But it isn’t only Rip or Foxx he needs to protect me from.
It’s myself.
How can he protect me from my own mind?
I press my face against his chest, searching for the warmth I’d felt before. It’s there, but faint. I focus on that and nothing else until sleep pulls me under again.
19
TOBIAS
The mood is somber the next morning. Everyone moves slowly, sleep-heavy and weary. But there’s more than exhaustion in the air. There’s a heavy kind of knowing with my name on it.
No one mentions the nightmare. Not out of avoidance—out of kindness. They are all trying not to bring it up, which… in its own way, makes it worse.
Snow glistens outside, and scratchy Christmas music plays from the record player. The house smells of cinnamon and candied pecans, but I can’t reach for them.
Rowen and I sit on the couch together, tucked under a blanket. His thigh presses against mine, like he’s tryingto make sure I notice him and not drift off inside my head. I keep my eyes on the window, turning a tin can around in my fingers. Jasmine had given it to me earlier, but I can’t bring myself to open it. Not yet.
I can’t look at anyone. Can’t really speak. The apology sits thick in my throat. They’re not mad—I know that—but the shame still chokes me.
Last night hadn’t felt like a dream. It’d felt… I don’t even know. Remembered, somehow. Haunted. Maybe that’s why my mom called her voices ghosts—because it felt like I’d stepped into hers.
Rowen’s thumb brushes myknee, a silent check-in. I can’t meet his eyes, but I feel the question in the touch.
A log shifts in the fireplace, sending sparks fluttering. The sound startles me back to the room.
Jericho stands near the hearth, something large and flat in his hands. He clears his throat, nervous. “I know you guys don’t really do gifts for Christmas, but… I have one for you. For all of you, really.”
The present is wrapped in white butcher paper, folded unevenly and taped in a few odd places, like he’d wrapped it in a hurry.
Forest sets his coffee mug down and unwraps it, then goes still. “Oh. Wow.”
He turns a drawing around for us to see: three wolves running in the snow outside this house. Two of the wolves look like Jasmine and Sage in their other form. I’m guessing the third one is Forest. The three siblings. Leaders of the Clearwater pack.
They look so joyful and wild. So free. It makes my heart ache.
I want that.
I want that so bad it hurts.
“It’s gorgeous,” Jasmine breathes.
Jericho’s shoulders relax. “I just… wanted to say thank you. For everything.” His gaze dances from Evan, Evelyn, and even to me. “It’s meant a lot to us that you’ve allowed us to stay here.”
Jasmine hugs Jericho. “Thank you.”
Needing something to do, I fiddle with the lid of the tin. The corner pops up, and I give in, peering inside: six large chocolate chip cookies, nearly the size of my hand.
Rowen snatches one immediately.
