Leif opens his mouth, about to speak, but I’m not finished. The words I’ve been holding back for weeks need release.
“She deserves better than half a relationship with someone who’s only present when it’s convenient. She deserves better than to wonder if she’s overstepped in some way whenyou disappear without explanation. She deserves better than watching you waste away under some pressure that you refuse to share.”
He slumps further with each sentence, as if my words carry physical weight. I almost stop, almost soften, but I remember Emily after three canceled plans in two weeks, her eyes downcast as she insisted it was fine, she understood.
“The worst part is, she’s falling for you,” I continue, my voice dropping lower. “Really falling, but it’s causing her to backslide. She worked so hard to rebuild her confidence after Auren crushed her, and you’re destroying all her progress.”
Leif’s head snaps up. “I’m not Auren.”
“No,” I agree, studying his haggard face. “But from the outside, Emily is carrying emotional labor she never volunteered for. She’s being asked, again, to wait, to worry, and to be understanding without being told why.”
The door to the café opens again, bringing a gust of cold air that curls around our ankles. Leif shivers, though whether from the temperature or my words, I can’t tell.
“I care about her,” he says, the words rough with emotion.
“I know you do.” And this is the tragedy of it all. “But caring isn’t enough if your actions keep hurting her.”
His eyes drop back to his untouched coffee. “She doesn’t tell you everything.”
“No, she stays quiet when she thinks it will keep the peace, and the only one it hurts is herself,” I say bluntly. “Which doesn’t stop me from seeing everything. I was there when Auren tried to drag her back down a few months back. I watched her rebuild herself piece by piece. I promised myself I’d never let anyone tear her down again.”
Leif’s eyes lift to meet mine, filled with understanding. Not anger at my interference, not defensive justification, only quiet resignation, and my stomach sinks in response.
Whatever’s happening to Leif, it’s worse than I thought.
“Talk to us, Leif. We see your phone light up with text messages you ignore when you’re with us. We see you check the time when you think no one’s looking. We see you startle every time the door opens, like you’re expecting someone to walk in and catch you.” I lean back, giving him space as the accusations land. “And I see Emily pretend everything is okay because she’s so damn happy you’re there at all.”
Leif’s mouth opens and closes, words failing him as the truth settles between us.
“Look,” I say, softening my tone without backing down. “I know you’re dealing with your own shit. That’s obvious. And maybe it’s big shit, complicated shit, shit you don’t know how to talk about.”
His shoulders hunch, but I press on.
“But when you keep it all locked inside, when you refuse to let us in, all anyone can judge is your behavior. And your behavior reads like you’re using her.” I spread my hands on the table, palms up. “Like you’re taking her strength, her stability, her affection, and giving back just enough to keep her invested without risking anything real.”
A muscle twitches in Leif’s jaw, but he doesn’t deny it. He can’t.
“I know you care about her,” I continue. “I know you’re not Auren. I even believe you’re not trying to hurt her.”
Leif’s breathing changes, becoming shallow and quick. His hands return to his coffee mug, seeking its residual warmth as his fingers tremble.
“But belief doesn’t outweigh pattern, Leif.” The truth of this settles in my bones as I say it. “And the pattern right now is that you take what you need and disappear. You bring your anxiety into Emily’s space without explanation and leave her wondering what she did wrong.”
The ambient noise fades as I focus on Leif. The exhaustion etched into his face speaks of more than sleepless nights. It suggests a bone-deep weariness born of constant vigilance.
“I care about you,” I admit, surprising myself with the truth of it. “I think you’re good for Emily when you’re actually present. I think you belong in our pack, and I think your connection to Emily is the same as mine.”
His eyes widen at the acknowledgment of what’s been building between the three of us. The potential pack bond that strengthens each time he stays the night, each time he shares a meal at our table, each time Mixie chooses his lap over mine.
“But if you keep disappearing, keep carrying anxiety back into Emily’s space without explanation, keep letting her fill in the blanks alone, I will step in and shut it down.” The statement comes out lower, not in threat but with certainty. “I won’t watch her rebuild herself around someone who isn’t all the way in. She isn’t just my packmate, she’s mybondmate, and I will not sacrifice her for you.”
The boundary settles between us, clear and unmovable, and Leif stills, as if this is the first time he’s fully understood how deep my connection with Emily runs.
The silence stretches between us, filled with the clink of cups on saucers and the scrape of chairs on the wooden floor. The murmur of conversations rises and falls around us like waves.
I study Leif across the table, seeing the constant tension in his body. “You stepped up to help me in the past. Let us do the same for you. Whatever’s happening, you don’t have to handle it alone.”
Surprise flashes before being replaced by sad resignation. “Some battles can’t be shared.”