“What kind of muffin?” Court asks from right next to me, making me jump. Jesus. I hadn’t even heard him move.
“Double chocolate.”
“So basically cake? You had cake for breakfast?”
I shrug. “It’s better than nothing, right?”
They both stare down at me, and I have a brief moment of gratitude that this is what they want to focus on, rather than what Haven told them.
“It’s not enough.” Thayer uses a grip on my shoulders to spin me around and march me right back to the kitchen. There he urges me onto a stool at the island hovering like he’ll physically force me to stay on the stool if he needs to, which he might have to. I’m feeling that need to flee before they can press me for specifics about what happened with Haven’s father.
Court, seeming to sense the same thing Thayer is, drapes himself over my back, bracing his hands on the counter, caging me in his arms. The scent of spiced cranberries wraps around me, soothing my omega after a restless night. His breath puffs over my neck, my ear and I find myself melting into him in increments, until I’m leaning against him, and he’s brushing tiny kisses over as much of me as he can reach.
Thayer works on making a plate for me, his movements sure and precise and when he slides the food in front of me I almost laugh at the neat piles of food, not one of them touching.Eggs. Sausages. Fruit. Toast. And, weirdly, grilled tomatoes and sauteed mushrooms. Not typically things I would eat for breakfast.
He points a finger in my face when I only stare down at the abundance of food in front of me. “You need to eat at least half of this, more if you can manage. You’ve lost too much weight since the show.”
He’s not wrong. Vomiting up a good portion of the things you manage to swallow down will do that to a person. But before that disastrous interview, I’m pretty sure my body was finally reaching its new normal, balancing out the heartbreak and the sickness and finding a medium.
Not a happy one. But medium all the same.
But the amount of food he’s heaped on this plate I wouldn’t have been able to eat when I was feeling my best and dancing for six hours a day.
“Just try, Pix,” Court murmurs into my hair.
With a sigh I pick up the fork, spear a sausage and nibble on the end of it. Both alphas watch me with keen interest as I do. It's more than a little disconcerting, especially with the pleased looks on their faces.
They’re silent as they watch me eat, Court behind me pressed into my back, and Thayer standing on the other side of the island hands pressed into the stone like he’s trying to keep from reaching for me.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I say eventually.
“About what, Pix?” Court murmurs, his breath warm against the shell of my ear.
“About what happened with Haven’s- with Frederick Bell.” I force myself to say his name, even through my tight throat. Like someone said inHarry Potter,‘fear of a name increases fear of a thing itself’ and Frederick Bell is nothing to be feared. Certainly not anymore.
They both go still, like maybe they’re waiting for me to say more, but I’m not going to.
Finally Thayer sighs and nods. “Fair enough. We have other things we need to talk about.”
I tense, readying to flee. Court’s arms go around me, holding me tight to his chest as a purr rumbles out of him. I melt against him, my omega all but rolling over and showing her stomach.
“Just wait, Pix,” he murmurs. “Please.”
Thayer reaches over the island and taps the side of my plate. “Keep eating, killer. You’re going to need your strength.”
“I’m not hungry anymore,” I say honestly, pushing the plate away. The thought of needing to have a real conversation with them, of having them try to convince me yet again that I need to return to Bravonne with them, let them tuck me away like a kept woman only good for fucking, has stolen what little progress my stomach had made.
Court makes a frustrated sound and in a flash I’m being shifted, lifted and then he’s under me and I’m sitting on his lap. He drags the plate back in front of me, spears a mushroom and holds it to my lips.
I don’t eat it. I’m a little afraid if I do, I’ll vomit all over Haven’s kitchen counter.
Even with them here with me, my body is still out of whack, in an in-between state of thrilled that my pack is with me, and braced for the other shoe to drop, for them to leave me all over again.
“Please, killer,” Thayer says. “Please. I can’t… my alpha needs you to eat more.” As if that should supersede my body's needs.
“Well, my omega needed you not to ruthlessly reject me, but here we are.” I’m being a little out of line here, and I feel it when they both flinch. In truth they were as gentle with me asthey could have been given the circumstances. They didn’t want to hurt me, I know that. But it doesn’t change the fact that they did.
“You should have sent me home first,” I mutter. “I told you to. If you had, this wouldn’t have happened. I wouldn’t have gotten sick.”