“I know,” I say.
I close my eyes briefly. The ache in my throat has nothing to do with sadness. “You guys keep saying that,” I tell him. “You and Bash both.”
“Because it’s true,” he says simply.
I lean into him, and his arm settles around my shoulders. This time, I don't overthink it. I just let myself be held.
A few minutes later, we return our gear and head for the car, holding hands the entire way.
The drive back is quiet.
Adrian drives while I watch the city pass outside the window, and I find myself thinking about the first day I came to the production eight months ago. I walked onto that set as a beta coordinator, invisible by design, knowing how to make myself useful enough to be called back without becoming memorable enough for anyone to think I was in the way.
I had that down to a reflex, and I was very good at it. I don't know how to do that anymore. I'm not sure I could get back to it if I tried.
The thought would usually terrify me because there had been safety in that invisibility, but it lands differently sitting here in the passenger seat of Adrian's car with paint still in my hair and the lingering joy of laughing for an entire afternoon.
He didn't spend today watching for symptoms. He spent it watching for my joy, and every time I laughed, every time I scored a point, and every time the game pulled me completely out of my own head, he looked absurdly pleased with himself.
I didn't feel like a liability today or a variable that needed protecting from itself. I felt like someone who runs through a course at full speed, shoots things, laughs until she can't breathe, and makes choices with her eyes open.
The car turns onto the familiar approach road, and the house comes into view through the windshield.
I look at it and realize I don't have to choose between the versions of myself.
I can still be the competent person I've always been. I can also be the person who kissed Bash last night and Adrian this afternoon, who relaxed against Elias in the dark and consciously chose all of it.
I can be both at the same time.
My new designation didn't take anything from me.
Chapter 32
Maya
The front door opens, and the scents of the alphas meet me before I'm fully inside. Amber and cedar and that darker spice beneath it settle around me with familiar warmth, and I feel my shoulders relax.
Adrian comes in behind me. He still has a smear of paint at his hairline that he missed while cleaning up at the facility. I almost point it out, but then he catches me looking and tilts his head.
“You want to know something humbling?” he asks as he sets his bag down by the door.
“You're going to tell me anyway.”
“The ricochet that hit me in round two.” He pauses. “I saw it coming. I misjudged the angle by six inches.”
“You've been thinking about that the whole drive back,” I accuse.
“I've been thinking about it since it happened.” He says it with absolutely no embarrassment.
Something about that is so specifically Adrian that I have to press a hand over my mouth for a second to muffle a laugh.
From the kitchen comes the sound of a cabinet opening, then a plate hitting the counter. Then Bash’s voice: “Tell me you stopped somewhere to eat.”
“We had water bottles,” I say as I come into the kitchen.
He turns away from the counter and looks at me with an expression that clearly communicates that water bottles do not constitute a meal. “Sit down.”
“I’m fine.”
