But it isn’t the same. It must not be.
Because even with my body calling hard for Malcolm, even craving Alex through the wall, I still feel the pull toward my own pack. This doesn't erase five years. So why did the pull to Marie erase me for them?
I'm still angry. I don't think I want to go back. But I still care, and I don't know what to do with that.
The heat crashes back in before I can finish the thought. Finn's hands find me, his attention focused and complete, and everything else disappears.
When I come down I'm too exhausted to remember what I was afraid of.
***
I wake to voices below me. Through the floor, maybe, or through the walls. The heat makes it hard to locate sound.
"—should have told her the truth a long time ago—"
Finn. Frustrated. Pacing, maybe. I can picture him running his hands through that messy hair.
"—never should have let it get this far—"
Malcolm. His voice is harder to hear. Quieter by nature. But there's guilt in it. It’s heavy.
"—no one expected it escalate like this, for them to fucking abandon her in heat—"
“—fuck the flag, fuck the registry, it’s worth it—"
I don't know what that's about. Are they talking about Ragon? Marie? Me?
My brain grasps at the fragments, trying to assemble meaning, but the heat pulls me back under before I can make sense of any of it.
I'll remember later.
***
Finn is holding my head up, helping me drink. The water is cool against my raw throat. I manage a few swallows before my stomach revolts.
I barely make it to the edge of the bed before I'm sick.
Shame floods through me, hot and immediate. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"
"Don't." His voice is sharp enough to cut through the fog. "Don't apologize for being in heat."
I blink at him, still trembling.
His expression softens, but the anger underneath doesn't fade. It's just not pointed at me. It's pointed at whoever taught me to apologize for my body's needs. At the months of conditioning that madesorrymy first instinct.
"You're not an inconvenience," he says, quieter now. "You're not a burden. Your body is doing exactly what it's supposed to do. The only thing you need to apologize for is nothing."
I don't know what to do with that.
He cleans up without complaint, brings fresh water, moves me back against the pillows. His hands are gentle and efficient. No judgment. No disgust.
Just care.
I cry again. Quieter this time. He pretends not to notice.
***
I startle awake to Finn's voice, urgent: "We need to move. Tonight."
