Page 16 of Crown of the Mist

“I…” My throat feels tight. “I need to go. I shouldn’t have stayed.”

His gaze doesn’t waver, and the silence stretches, heavy and expectant. “Why not?”

“Because…” The words stick, and I swallow hard. “Because I don’t belong here. You guys don’t need this—don’t need me.”

Wes stands slowly, his movements unhurried but deliberate, and steps closer. “Is that what you think? That you’re a burden?”

I look away, my fingers tightening around the strap of my bag. “It’s not what I think. It’s what I know.”

His sigh is quiet, almost imperceptible, but the weight of it presses against me. “Bree, we’ve been friends our whole lives. You know us. Do you really think we’d let you go through this alone?”

I shake my head, biting the inside of my cheek to keep the tears at bay. “I don’t want to drag you into my mess.”

“You’re not dragging us into anything,” he says firmly. “We’re already here. Whether you want us to be or not.”

“He’s right.”

The voice cuts through the stillness, making me jump. I spin around to see Gray standing in the hallway, his green eyes sharp and unreadable. He leans casually against the doorframe, but there’s nothing casual about the way he’s looking at me.

“You’re not dragging us into anything,” Gray continues, stepping closer. “And you’re not doing anyone any favors by pretending we don’t care.”

I take a step back, the strap of my bag slipping slightly from my shoulder. “I’m not pretending—”

“Yes, you are,” he interrupts, his tone unwavering. “You’ve been doing it for years. Andyou’re damn good at it. But you don’t get to shut us out anymore, Bree. Not after last night.”

The words hit harder than I expect, knocking the air out of my lungs. “You don’t understand,” I whisper. “You don’t know what it’s like—”

“Then tell us.” Gray’s voice softens, but the intensity in his gaze doesn’t waver. “Help us understand. Let us in.”

“Gray,” Wes says, his tone a quiet warning.

But Gray doesn’t back down. “She needs to hear this.”

I stare at him, my chest tightening. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” Gray says, taking another step forward. “We’re not going anywhere, Bree. No matter how hard you try to push us away, we’re still here.”

The weight of his words press down on me, the truth of them both comforting and terrifying. I feel the tears welling up, but I blink them back, refusing to let them fall.

“I should go,” I murmur, but even I can hear how hollow the words sound.

“No,” Wes says gently but firmly, stepping beside Gray. “You should stay.”

The two of them stand there, a united front against my instinct to run. My legs feel heavy, weighted by something that feels like exhaustion but might be surrender.

11. Bree

Steam clouds the small bathroom, curling around the mirror and softening the harsh light overhead. I let the hot water cascade over me, my muscles aching with relief as I lean against the cool tile wall. The heat seeps into my skin, washing away the rain, the cold, and the lingering feeling of Phil's grip on my arm.

I stayed.

The thought circles in my mind, startling every time it surfaces. I stayed. I didn't bolt.

What the hell is wrong with me?

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to focus on the steady rhythm of the water hitting the tub. It's safer to think about that than the fact that I'm standing here in their house, using their bathroom, doing exactly what I promised myself I wouldn't do.

A lump forms in my throat, and I bite it back. It's not like they're mad I stayed. If anything, they wanted me to. Wes and Gray practically said as much.