Page 37 of Crown of the Mist

I hesitate, glancing at the others, but they're already settling into a rhythm - Rhett washing, Wes drying, Theo putting things away while Gray wipes down counters. It should feelstrange, how naturally they work together, but something about it just feels... right.

The mist follows as Jace leads me upstairs to the guest room. He's uncharacteristically quiet, missing his usual swagger. When he pushes open the door, I freeze in the doorway.

Bags cover the bed - more than I can count at first glance. Not just Target, but other stores I'd never let myself shop at. A mountain of soft things in shades of green and blue, tags still attached.

"I might have gone a little overboard," Jace says, running a hand through his hair. The gesture makes him look younger, almost nervous. "But I saw this blanket, and it reminded me of your eyes when you actually smile, you know? And then there were these sweaters that seemed warm, and you're always cold, and..." He trails off, watching my face. "Too much?"

I step closer, running my fingers over the nearest item. The fabric is softer than anything I own. "Jace, I..." My throat tightens. "I can't accept all this."

"Sure you can." He bounces on his toes, that restless energy of his returning. "Look, this one's my favorite." He pulls out something impossibly soft and green. "Feel it."

The sweater feels like clouds in my hands. I check the tag before I can stop myself and my kneesgo weak. "This costs more than I make in two shifts."

"Good." His voice loses its playful edge. "Because you deserve nice things, Bree. Things that feel good. Things that keep you warm." He starts pulling out more items - pajamas, socks, things I haven't been able to replace in years. "And before you argue about money - this is nothing compared to what I spend on my hair products."

A laugh catches in my throat, coming out more like a sob. There's more clothing here than I've owned in my entire adult life. Things picked with obvious care - comfortable but pretty, practical but not cheap. Things chosen by someone who knows me, who sees me.

"I got you some books too," he says softer, gesturing to a stack on the dresser. "The ones you used to read until they fell apart. And this--" He pulls out a small lamp with a dimmer switch. "For late nights when you can't sleep. The light changes colors."

My vision blurs as I sink onto the edge of the bed. The mist curls around my ankles, calm and steady. "Why?" I whisper.

"Because we love you, dummy." He says it easily, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "And yeah, I know you're not ready to hear that. But tough luck - we're not going anywhere."

I press my face into the soft sweater, breathing in the new-clothes smell, trying to hold back tears. Jace sits beside me, close but not touching.

"You don't have to wear any of it," he says quietly. "We can send it all back if you hate it. But please... please let us do this. Let us help make this feel like home."

A tear escapes despite my best efforts, soaking into the sweater. Jace pretends not to notice, just starts showing me more things - pajamas with little stars on them, fuzzy socks in ridiculous patterns, a robe that feels like being hugged by a cloud.

And somewhere between his dramatic commentary on each item and the gentle way he handles things he picked just for me, I stop trying to fight the tears. Stop trying to pretend this doesn't mean everything.

The mist settles around us like a blanket, peaceful and content, as Jace's steady stream of chatter fills the space where my words can't reach.

For a long moment, I just sit there, surrounded by more kindness than I know how to process. Jace's voice washes over me, a comforting backdrop as I run my fingers over soft fabrics and try to breathe through the tightness in my chest.

"Oh, and check this out," Jace says, reaching forsomething on the nightstand. "It's one of those white noise machines. You can set it to rain or ocean waves or whatever. Thought it might help with..." He trails off, but I know what he means. The nightmares. The restless nights when sleep feels like a distant memory.

I nod, not trusting my voice. The thoughtfulness of it all threatens to overwhelm me. Each item feels like a piece of armor against the cold, empty life I've been living. A shield against the loneliness that's been my constant companion for so long.

"Jace," I manage finally, my voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know what to say."

He grins, but it's softer than his usual cocky smile. "You don't have to say anything. Just... maybe try some of it on? See how it feels?"

I hesitate, then nod. "Okay. I... I can do that."

"Great!" He bounces to his feet. "I'll give you some privacy. Take your time, okay? And if anything doesn't fit or you don't like it, we can exchange it. No pressure."

He's almost to the door when I find my voice again. "Jace?"

He turns, eyebrows raised in question.

"Thank you," I say softly. "For... for seeing me."

Something flashes across his face - too quick forme to name, but it makes my chest ache. "Always, Bree," he says, his voice uncharacteristically serious. "We see you. All of us do."

Then he's gone, closing the door gently behind him. I'm left alone with a mountain of gifts and a lump in my throat that won't seem to fade.

The mist swirls around my ankles as I stand, drifting over the piles of clothing like it's exploring too. I reach for the green sweater first, the one that reminded Jace of my eyes. It slips over my head like a cloud, impossibly soft against my skin.