Then he speaks again.
"But you might have to. We both might. All of us might."
The words sit like lead in my gut.
"Because of the flag," I say.
"Yeah."
I turn to look at him. "Chase said he was working on it."
"He is. But it's not looking good." Alex's expression is carefully neutral. "The charges were serious. The registry doesn't overturn flags easily."
"We might not be able to keep her even if she wants us to."
"No. We might not."
The rage flares hot and immediate.
Not at Alex. At the whole fucking situation.
At the registry that put a flag on Alex for what Rhys did that night. At the people that made Rhys the way he is in the first place. At the system that says Vee needs to be claimed but won't let the right people do it. At the universe for giving us our scent match and then making it impossible to keep her.
"That's fucked," I say.
"Yeah. It is."
I grip the railing harder. The wood creaks.
"I've never wanted anything like I want her," I admit. The words come out raw. Honest. "Not the business. Not the house. Not anything. I just want her."
"I know."
"And we might lose her anyway."
"Maybe."
"That's not good enough."
Alex doesn't answer because there's nothing to say.
He squeezes my shoulder once and goes back inside.
I stay on the porch.
The cool air bites at my skin and I welcome it. Prefer it to the warmth inside where Drake is sleeping and Vee is probably somewhere nearby, taking care of him like she takes care of everyone.
I go back inside eventually.
Finn has abandoned the laptop to make tea.
I stop in the doorway to the living room.
Drake is on the couch, still asleep.
Rhys is in the armchair. He's changed position since earlier—sitting now instead of standing, elbows on his knees, hands loosely clasped. Monitoring.
Vee is on the floor at the base of Rhys's armchair.
