Page 3 of Crown of the Mist (The Ether Chronicles #1)

Each step toward Mercer's feels heavier than the last. My mind races with excuses to turn back, but I know Gray. He'd probably show up at my door if I bailed, and that would be worse. Having him there, in my space, seeing how I really live.

The café buzzes with morning conversation and clinking mugs as I push through the door. I tug my hoodie closer, scanning the room. I could still leave. Turn around now and avoid the inevitable questions, the concerned looks that make me feel like I'm drowning...

Gray catches my eye from the corner table, and the moment of escape is gone.

His sharp jawline and dark hair make him look like he belongs in a magazine spread, but the shadows under his eyes tell a different story.

He's watching me over his coffee cup, reading me like one of his car manuals - methodical, searching for problems to fix.

Theo sits across from him, grinning and waving like he hasn't seen me in days instead of yesterday. His light brown hair is its usual mess, looking more like he just finished a workout than heading to work. I drag my feet across the room, dropping into the seat across from them.

"You're late," Theo says, his broad shoulders shifting as he leans forward. "We almost sent a search party."

"Hey," I mumble, pretending to study the menu I've memorized. Anything to avoid Gray's steady gaze.

"You look tired," Gray says, his tone carefully neutral.

"Thanks for that." The words come out sharp, defensive. He doesn't flinch, just takes another slow sip of coffee.

Theo props his chin on his hand, blue eyes crinkling at the corners. "Ignore him. He's just mad because they ran out of scones."

Gray shoots him a look that would wither anyone else, but Theo just grins wider. "Seriously, though," he says, voice softening. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm fine." The lie rolls off my tongue with practiced ease. I hate how natural it feels.

Before Gray can challenge this obvious untruth, the door chimes and Jace strolls in like he owns the place.

His blonde hair is a mess, flour dusting his shirt like he's been in a baking war.

The morning light catches his golden skin as he slides into the seat next to me, close enough that I can smell vanilla and coffee on him.

"Morning," he says, flashing that trouble-maker's grin. "You look like you've been avoiding us."

"I have." My deadpan response only makes his grin wider, that damned dimple appearing on his left cheek.

The banter picks up from there, Theo and Jace trading quips while Gray occasionally cuts through with dry commentary. I don't join in, but their familiar rhythm washes over me, almost soothing. Almost.

The air changes when Rhett appears in the doorway, Wes a shadow behind him.

Conversations around us dim slightly - Rhett has that effect, commanding attention without trying.

His dark auburn hair catches the light as he scans the room, his broad frame filling the doorway.

Behind him, Wes moves with that predator's grace of his, all lean muscle and sharp angles in his usual black.

Where Rhett draws eyes, Wes seems to slip between them, noticed only when he wants to be.

The easy mood evaporates as Rhett stops at our table, jaw tight. "We need to talk," he says, voice quiet but carrying that fire-captain authority he never quite shakes off.

"Nice to see you too," Theo tries, but Rhett's focus is locked on me.

Wes settles next to Gray without a word, dark eyes taking everything in. There's concern there, hidden beneath his carefully neutral expression. It makes my stomach twist.

"What's going on?" I ask, though part of me already knows.

"Your landlord," Rhett says, and something in his voice makes me go cold. "I saw him outside your building last night."

My stomach drops. The café suddenly feels too warm, too crowded. "It's fine," I say quickly. "He didn't—"

"It's not fine." Rhett's voice is deceptively calm, but I recognize the rage simmering underneath. "That guy's a problem, Bree. He was just standing there, watching your window like he was waiting for something." His hands clench on the table. "Or someone."

The change in the group is instant. Gray sits up straighter, coffee forgotten.

Theo's easy smile vanishes, replaced by something harder.

Even Jace goes still beside me, his usual restless energy coiling into something dangerous.

Wes leans forward, his calculated stillness more threatening than any movement.

"It's handled." I hate how my voice shakes, betraying the lie. "I don't need you guys swooping in every time something happens."

"We're not swooping in." Rhett's eyes lock onto mine, green fire burning there. "We're watching out for you. There's a difference."

The weight of their concern crushes down on me. Five sets of eyes, five different versions of worry and protective anger. It's suffocating. Overwhelming. Too much.

"I don't need this," I mutter, but the words sound weak even to me.

Silence stretches between us, heavy with everything I won't say. Everything they want to say.

Finally, Rhett sighs, but there's no defeat in it. "We're not letting this go, Bree."

"Neither should you." Wes's quiet words cut deepest because he rarely speaks without purpose. His dark eyes hold mine, seeing too much, understanding too well. Like he knows exactly why I'm running, why I keep pushing them away.

And maybe he does. Maybe they all do. That's what scares me most.

Gray's eyes haven't left me since I snapped at him, dissecting every twitch, every breath. The worry in his gaze burns worse than anger would.

"You don't have to keep staring at me," I mutter, focusing on the scratched table surface. Years of stories are carved here—initials, hearts, random words etched by hands that needed somewhere to put their pain. I get that now more than ever.

Gray takes his time responding, each second heavy between us. "I'm trying to figure out what's going on in that head of yours."

"There's nothing to figure out." The lie tastes bitter, worse than the cold coffee.

Theo leans in, his gaze steady, his words measured. "Come on, Bree. We're just worried. You've been... different lately."

"I've been busy." Even I don't believe it anymore.

"With what?" Rhett's voice cuts through the café noise like a blade. "Your landlord?"

The words hit like a physical blow, sending heat rushing to my face. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

The table goes silent. Even Jace, who can joke his way through a funeral, freezes. Gray opens his mouth, probably to smooth things over, but Rhett beats him to it.

"That's not—" he starts, his tone carefully neutral, but something in me snaps.

"Do you think I'm sleeping with him?" My voice rises, trembling with rage and something darker. Heads turn at nearby tables, but I'm past caring. My chest feels too tight, like I'm trying to breathe underwater. "Because if that's what you're implying, just fucking say it."

Rhett leans forward, his green eyes dark with something that might be hurt. "I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to." My nails dig into the table edge, anchoring me against the storm building in my chest. The wood grain blurs as tears threaten.

"Bree—" Gray's voice carries that tone, the one that means he's about to be reasonable, about to make sense of things I can't face.

"You think you can just sit there and judge me?" The words taste like acid. "Like you've got it all figured out? I don't need this from you. Not from any of you."

Gray shifts closer, his voice gentle but relentless. "We're not judging you. We just—"

"I know," I cut him off, the words sharp enough to make the couple at the next table flinch. Heat crawls up my neck as I lower my voice. "I know you're trying to help. But I've got it under control."

"Do you?" Wes's quiet question slices through my defenses like they're paper.

I whip around to face him, meeting that steady, unblinking stare. His calm feels like an accusation. "Excuse me?"

He doesn't flinch. "You keep saying you've got it under control, but all I see is you shutting us out."

The truth in his words hits hard leaving me scrambling. "I... I don't need—"

"What?" Rhett's voice is taut, stretched thin over worry and frustration. "You don't need us? You don't need anyone?"

"I don't." The words explode out of me, too loud, too raw. They hang in the air between us, sharp enough to draw blood. The silence that follows presses against my chest until I can't breathe.

I shove back from the table, my chair screeching against the floor. "I've got to get to work."

"Bree—" Theo reaches for me, but I'm already moving.

"Don't." My voice cracks on the single word. My hands shake as I grab my bag, clutching the strap like it's the only thing holding me together. "Just... don't."

The cheerful bell above the door mocks me as I escape into the morning air. Behind me, I can feel their eyes, their concern, their disappointment. It follows me down the street, a weight heavier than my scrubs bag.