The word lands heavier than I expect.
I scoff immediately. “You’re reaching.”
“Am I?” he asks. “You didn’t feel it at all?”
“No,” I say too fast. “I felt her attitude. Big difference.”
“She calmed when Sol was near her,” Koa continues. “She obviously does the same for Finn. And you know she reacted a little to both of us too. We talked about this before. That’s not nothing.”
My chest tightens, sharp and unwelcome.
“That doesn’t mean anything. She tolerated you,” I snap nastily. “That’s not the same thing.”
“That’s bullshit,” he snaps right back. “Is that what this is, then? Jealousy?”
I laugh, sharp and humourless. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
But the word sticks anyway, crawling under my skin.
“So what,” I say, pushing past him and pacing once. “You’re saying she’s yours?”
“If she’s a scent match?—”
“She’s not,” I cut in.
“You don’t know that.”
“I know enough,” I say. “And even if she was, that doesn’t mean we blow everything up over amaybe.”
Koa sighs. “I stopped playing the game the moment I met her.”
Footsteps sound on the stairs.
Slow. Heavy.
I turn just as Sol appears in the doorway, his gaze sharp, already suspicious.
“What are you two bickering about now?” he asks.
The air drops ten degrees.
I glance at Koa. He gives me a look that says be careful.
I straighten. “Nothing.”
Sol’s eyes flick between us. “Then why do you both look like you’re planning a funeral?”
“Because you’re hovering,” I say lightly. “And you hate it when we point that out.”
His jaw tightens. “I’m handling it.”
“We know,” Koa says.
“Then stay out of it.”
He turns back toward the stairs, already done with us.
As he leaves, something cold settles in my gut.