Page 12 of Crown of the Mist (The Ether Chronicles #1)

I hesitate at the edge of the room, my bare feet sticking to the cool tiles, but Rhett's steady gaze grounds me. He's the only one at the table, slicing strawberries into neat piles with an ease that makes me ache with something I don't have words for.

"Sit," he says, his tone calm but firm. "I'll grab you some coffee."

Before I can protest, he's already standing, heading for the counter where the pot sits steaming. My legs feel shaky as I move toward the chair nearest to him, pulling Rhett's shirt lower over my legs and crossing my arms against the sudden urge to retreat.

Jace glances over his shoulder from the stove, still brandishing the spatula like a conductor leading an orchestra. "You're gonna love this, Bree. Best pancakes of your life. Guaranteed."

The sound of footsteps draws my attention to the hallway, where Wes appears, moving with that quiet grace of his. His dark eyes meet mine for a moment, and something in his expression tells me he's been waiting, watching to make sure I didn't try to slip away again.

"Morning," he says simply, leaning against the doorframe.

"Morning," I manage, my voice quieter than I mean for it to be.

"Did you save me some of the masterpiece, or are you hoarding it all?" Gray's voice carries from near the coffee pot, his sharp green eyes sweeping the room before landing on me. He doesn't say anything, but the tension in his shoulders eases as he moves to lean against the wall.

"Masterpiece?" Wes asks from his spot by the counter, arching a brow.

"Perfection," Jace corrects, pointing the spatula at him. "And yes, I saved you some. But Bree gets the first plate."

"Lucky me," I murmur, staring at the empty plate in front of me like it might fill itself if I wish hard enough.

The guys settle in one by one, the table filling with movement. Plates clatter, coffee mugs are filled, and Jace's voice carries over everything, filling the space with easy chatter.

Rhett sets a mug of coffee in front of me, the steam curling upward in soft spirals. "Here," he says simply.

"Thanks," I whisper, curling my hands around the warmth.

Jace finally sets a plate in front of me, piled high with pancakes, eggs, and bacon. "Et voilà," he says, grinning.

"It's a lot," I say, my stomach twisting at the sight of so much food.

"You deserve it," Jace replies, sitting down across from me. "We all do."

The table hums with life as the guys start eating, their banter light but steady. For the first time in what feels like forever, I let myself listen—really listen. The sound of their voices, the clink of forks on plates, the soft scrape of chairs against the floor.

It feels normal. Too normal.

I stare at my plate, pushing a piece of pancake around with my fork. The food smells amazing, but my stomach churns every time I try to take a bite. They're all being so careful—too careful. Like I'm made of glass. Like last night never happened.

But it did happen. I'm sitting here in Rhett's borrowed clothes while Phil is probably passed out in his apartment, planning God knows what. While Mrs. Henderson is—

The fork slips from my fingers, clattering against the plate. The sound cuts through the conversation, and suddenly five pairs of eyes are on me. I can feel the weight of their concern pressing in from all sides.

"Bree?" Rhett's voice is quiet, but it carries a current of something stronger.

"I'm fine," I say automatically, but the words feel hollow. Empty. Like everything else I've been telling them.

"You haven't touched your food," Jace says, trying to keep his tone light even though I can hear the worry underneath. "Not up to your standards?"

I shake my head, gripping the edge of the table. "No, it's not—I just—" My throat closes up around the words. How do I explain that I don't deserve this? Their kindness, their concern, their endless patience with my broken pieces?

"You don't have to talk about it," Wes says from his across the table, his voice steady. "But you do need to eat."

Something in me snaps. "Why are you all acting like this is normal?" The words burst out before I can stop them. "Like I didn't show up in the middle of the night, like I'm not wearing your clothes, like—" My voice cracks. "Like everything's fine when it's not. It's not fine. None of this is fine."

The silence that follows feels sharp enough to cut. I stare down at my hands, watching them tremble against the dark wood of the table. My heart pounds so hard I wonder if they can hear it.

"No," Gray says finally, his voice quiet but firm. "It's not fine."

I look up, startled by the edge in his tone. He's watching me with those sharp eyes of his, all pretense of casualness gone.

"None of this is fine," he continues. "You showing up scared in the middle of the night? Not fine. You being afraid to come to us? Not fine." His jaw tightens. "You thinking you have to handle everything alone? Definitely not fine."

"Gray," Rhett warns, but Gray shakes his head.

"No, she needs to hear this." He leans forward, his gaze holding mine. "We're not acting like everything's normal, Bree. We're trying to give you space to feel safe. But don't think for a second that we're okay with any of this."

My throat burns. "I didn't—I wasn't trying to—"

"We know," Theo cuts in gently. "But Gray's right. You don't have to pretend with us."

"And you don't have to run," Wes adds quietly from his seat. "Not anymore."

Jace sets his fork down, all his usual playfulness gone. "What happened last night, Bree?"

The question hangs in the air between us. I wrap my arms around myself, trying to hold in the tremors that threaten to shake me apart. "I can't—" My voice breaks. "Mrs. Henderson died."

The words fall like stones into still water. Ripples of shock cross their faces.

"And then Phil..." I swallow hard, the memory of his grip making my skin crawl. "He was waiting when I got home. He grabbed me, and I couldn't—" My voice cracks again. "I couldn't get away at first."

The mist coils around my feet, cold and agitated, as the room temperature seems to drop.

The shift is instant - Jace's fork freezes halfway to his mouth, his knuckles white.

Gray goes preternaturally still, like a predator catching a scent.

Theo sets his mug down with calculated precision, while Rhett's breath catches in a way that sounds like pain.

Even Wes, usually so controlled, straightens with a fluid motion that reminds me of a blade being drawn.

I can't look at any of them, but I feel the change in the air—like a match about to strike.

"He what?" Gray's voice is low, dangerous in a way I've never heard before.

Rhett's chair scrapes against the floor as he stands, but Wes's quiet voice cuts through the tension. "Let her finish."

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to steady my breathing. "I got away. The mist—" I stop, catching myself. They don't need to know about that part. About how strange it was, how Phil stumbled back like he was seeing something that wasn't there. "I just ran. And Rhett found me."

"I'll kill him." Jace's words are soft, matter-of-fact, like he's commenting on the weather. The fork in his hand trembles slightly, betraying the rage beneath his calm.

"Get in line," Gray mutters, his fingers white-knuckled around his coffee mug.

"Guys," Theo warns, but there's an edge to his voice too. He sets his mug down carefully, too carefully, like he's afraid of what his hands might do if he doesn't control every movement.

"You're not going back there." Rhett's tone leaves no room for argument. When I look up, his eyes are fierce, protective in a way that makes my chest ache. "We'll get your things today."

"I can't just—" The words stick in my throat as reality crashes back in. "My lease. The rent. I can't afford—"

"Stay here," Wes says simply.

My head snaps to him. "What?"

"Stay here," he repeats, leaning forward. "We have the room. You know we do."

"I—" The offer hits me like a physical blow. "I can't."

"Why not?" Theo asks softly.

Because I don't deserve it. Because I'll ruin everything. Because—

"Because I'm scared," I whisper, the truth slipping out before I can stop it.

The word hangs in the air between us—scared. Such a small word for something that feels like it's crushing my chest. I stare down at my untouched plate, waiting for them to laugh, to brush it off, to tell me I'm being ridiculous.

But they don't.

"Of what?" Theo asks gently, his voice soft enough that I have to look up. His blue eyes are steady, patient in a way that makes my throat tight.

"Everything," I whisper, the truth spilling out before I can stop it. "Of letting you down. Of being too much. Of—" I swallow hard, wrapping my arms tighter around myself. "Of ruining everything."

"Bree." Gray's voice is rougher than usual. When I glance at him, his jaw is tight, like he's fighting back words. "You couldn't ruin anything if you tried."

A bitter laugh escapes me. "You don't know that."

"Actually, we do." Jace sets his fork down, all his usual playfulness gone. "We've known you our whole lives, remember? Through everything. And you've never ruined a single thing."

"That's different," I say, my voice cracking. "This is—living here would be different."

"Why?" Wes asks simply, his dark eyes intent. "Because you couldn't hide from us anymore?"

The question hits like a physical blow. I flinch, but he doesn't back down.

"That's it, isn't it?" he continues, his voice gentle but unwavering. "You're scared because we'd see everything. All the parts you try so hard to keep hidden."

Tears burn behind my eyes. "You don't want that," I whisper. "Trust me."

"Don't tell us what we want." Rhett's voice is quiet but firm. He leans forward, his green eyes burning with an intensity that makes my breath catch. "We want you safe. We want you here, where we can protect you."

"I don't need protecting," I say automatically, but the words sound hollow even to me.

"Bullshit." Gray's response is sharp enough to make me jump. "Phil got close enough to grab you. To hurt you.” His hand shoots out toward the bruise peeking out of the shirt sleeve. “That's not happening again."

"And what about next time?" The words tumble out, bitter and afraid. "What happens when something else goes wrong? When I wake up screaming from nightmares? When I can't—" My voice breaks. "When I can't handle being touched, or when I just need to be alone? When everything becomes too much?"

"Then we'll be there," Rhett says quietly. "However you need us to be."

I shake my head, pressing my palms flat against the table to stop them from shaking. "You don't understand. I don't know how to do this."

"Do what?" Jace asks.

"Let people in. Let you help. I've spent so long trying to keep everything locked away, trying not to be a burden—"

"Stop." Rhett's voice cuts through my spiral. "You're not a burden. You've never been a burden."

"But—"

"No." He reaches across the table, his hand stopping just short of mine. An offer, not a demand. "You're family, Bree. You always have been. Let us be there for you, the way you've always been there for us."

The tears I've been fighting finally spill over. "I don't know how," I whisper again, but this time it's not a refusal. It's a plea.

"Then we'll figure it out together," Theo says softly. "One day at a time."