A second apple that I don't really want but accept anyway because the expression on his face when I take it is the closest thing to uncomplicated happiness I’ve seen in weeks.
A chair, at one point, dragged from the corner of the kitchen to the better spot near the window, positioned in front of me without comment.
"He's doing the thing," Malcolm says to Finn, not.
"What thing?" I ask.
"The nesting thing." Finn pulls bread from the cabinet. "Alphas do it sometimes when they're—" He makes a vague gesture. "Inclined toward someone. They gather resources, make sure their person is comfortable. It's instinctive."
"I'm not a nest," I say.
"No," Rhys says from behind me.
I turn.
He sets a plate of sliced cheese on the table in front of me, then moves back to the counter.
"He's not wrong though," Malcolm says under his breath.
"I heard that," Rhys says.
"I know," Malcolm says.
The two of them look at each other across the kitchen, something passing between them that I don't have the context for yet. Some established dynamic from years of being pack together that operates below the surface of everything they say out loud.
Then Malcolm picks up a slice of cheese from my plate and Rhys's eyes narrow.
"That's hers," Rhys says.
"There's more in the fridge."
"That's hers."
"Rhys." Malcolm holds the cheese up. "It's cheese."
"Malcolm." Rhys's voice drops into something that makes the air in the room feel slightly different. "Put it back."
I take the cheese from Malcolm's hand and eat it.
Both of them look at me.
"Problem solved," I say.
Finn makes a sound that is definitely a laugh disguised as a cough.
Alex appears in the doorway and takes in the scene. The cheese, Malcolm's expression, Rhys's expression, and me in the middle of it.
He goes back to his laptop without a word.
After lunch I find Rhys on the porch.
He's in one of the chairs, taking up considerably more of it than the chair seems designed for, looking out at the tree line. There's a stillness to him when he's not in motion that I'm starting to recognize. Not absence. More like the kind of quiet from someone who has learned to be comfortable with their own company.
I take the chair next to him.
He glances over. Doesn't say anything.
We sit for a while.
