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But then my brain served me a cruel little memory: Section 4, Paragraph 3. The Emotional Support Clause.

I’d written the roommate agreement before Maggie moved in. Back when I was half-serious and half-exhausted after my third failed attempt at cohabiting like a functioning adult after Seraphina. That section about emergency cuddling was unfortunately serious, though I thought I could pass it off as a joke. I’d added it after a particularly bad shift had left me curled on the bathroom floor for hours, unable to re-regulate. I figured if I named the need, it would feel less pathetic. Less like I was broken. I never actually thought I’d use it. Definitely not with her.

Now it felt like a lifeline.

I knocked on the doorframe.

Maggie stirred, rustling beneath her blanket. Her hair was a total disaster, a curly mess against the pillow, and her hand was tucked under her cheek.

She blinked up at me groggily. “What?”

I cleared my throat. “I just shifted,” I said, which was code for: I feel like I’m going to crawl out of my skin and scream into the void. “I, uh… wanted to know if I could…spoon you?”

Her eyes narrowed. “What?”

I coughed. “Section four. Paragraph three. You signed it.”

She rubbed her face. “Yeah, yeah. But if you’re the one needing emotional support, shouldn’t I be the one spooning you?”

I frowned. “That would be weird.”

“Right. That’s what’s weird about this situation.”

I got into the bed slowly, like if I made one wrong move the whole night might implode. The mattress dipped under my weight, the scent of her intensifying until my head spun. I lay behind her, stiffly, unsure where to put my hands or my shame.

And then she reached back casually and pulled me closer.

Her body curved into mine like we’d done this a hundred times before. Without thinking, I slid my arm around her waist and tucked my face into the space between her shoulder and neck.

The relief was instant. My heart, which had been beating like a war drum, slowed. My breath evened. The static in my head vanished. I went still, every cell in my body confused. Because this wasn’t just about regulation. I’d done that before, with packmates, with old friends, even with paid professionals during the worst of it. This? This was different. This was peace. I was regulated like I had never been before. Not even with Willow.

Warm. Real. Safe.

It terrified me.

I stayed silent, eyes closed, trying to memorize every detail. The shape of her. The rhythm of her breathing. The feel of her fingers loosely tangled with mine. I didn’t want anything else. Not sex. Not romance. Just this. Just her, holding me together like it was the most normal thing in the world.

But my mind wouldn’t shut up.

Why her?

Why now?

And what happens when she realizes how intense this is for me?

I didn’t have answers. Didn’t want to think about answers. All I wanted to think about was her, pressed to my chest, anchoring me. I fell asleep like that.

It felt like home.

10

MAGGIE

The bed was cold on Roman’s side. I reached out before I was fully awake, remembering the weight of his arm around my waist, the steady warmth of his chest pressed against my back. But all I found was empty space, cool sheets, and silence.

I let my hand fall back onto the mattress and stared at the ceiling. Relief came first, a little voice saying good, he’s gone, now you don’t have to unpack any of that. But then came the aftershock.

Disappointment.