Page 29

Sure.

Maverick

Out getting dinner before Kai’s next client. Want something?

Me

Eating sounds awful right now.

Kai

Too bad. There are pastries on the kitchen counter. Dropped them off earlier.

I don’t deserve their kindness. I don’t deservethem.Being my friend is ruining their lives, and they don’t even know it.

Me

I’m good. Love you all.

Lacey, Mellie, Kai and Maverick

Love you.

Kai

We’ll see you in the morning.

I manage to nibble on Kai’s pastries and my favorite junk foods as an early dinner. With every bite I take, I feel better. The tendrils of fear are still there in shadowed passes, but I know the best way to get rid of them.

Because my guest room is always available if my friends need to crash, my bedroom doubles as a nest now. Unlike the atrocity at the pack house, the room is small. The ceiling stoops so low I worried it wouldn’t work, but the nook it creates is cozy and so fucking perfect, even with how bare it is right now as I rebuild my nesting supplies. This time, everything’s going to be exactly how I like it.

Knocking the AC down a few more degrees because this heatsucks, I strip. Silky shorts that barely cover my ass and a matching tank top feel like heaven, especially when I flip the fans on high and burrow under the lightest blankets I have. I’m still warm, but once the air kicks on, I’ll be okay.

My sketchbook’s on the bed, almost full despite being relatively new. Leaning heavily into work has been my escape from the dissolution stress and, despite today’s bullshit, I’m not going to stop.

On a clean page, I put pencil to paper and watch lines become the soft curves of a balconette bra with matching cheeky panties. They’re dainty and beautiful, each dotted with pearls and peeks of flesh enhanced with netting. I can see a range of colors displayed in the window of my storefront and I let myself hold the vision of it. The dream.

My hand speeds up, finishing up the sketch faster than ever. There’s an itch under my skin, an urge tomoveburning just beneath the surface. The design’s so real, I can practically feel the fabric against my skin. I have to make itnow.

My sewing room is the only part of the house that’s put together, so I know I don’t have the right fabric for this set. Gnawing on my lip, I debate using something else to save money, but I know it won’t feel right. Besides, shopping is a surefire way to make me feel better. I just won’t spend a lot.

For a moment, I worry about changing, but fuck it. Most people will be home, anyway.

One quick trip to Diamond’s, then I’ll come home to sew until I can’t hold a needle anymore. Tomorrow, I’ll go through every piece of correspondence with my exes again. Hopefully, there’s some mention of that fucking contract we missed before.Somethingwe can use to keep my business intact and not let down the people I love most.

My car’s barely out of the garage when my phone goes off. Knowing it’s probably the group chat again, I hit the brake and snatch it up, only to frown.

It’s Heat Tracker.

According to our calculations, you are dangerously close to your heat. Stay indoors, stay hydrated, stay safe—and enjoy!

I read it again and again, but the words never change.

This can’t be right.

A week after getting the storefront, I went on a shot for my heat suppressant. I liked that I only needed to get it every three months, but the side effects were killer. Migraines, weekly periods, bloating so bad nothing fit. And the mood swings. Oh my god, the mood swings.

After the second shot expired, I switched to a daily dose instead. I already have a birth control implant, so it was only going to be one pill in the morning. No problem.