Page 45 of Crown of the Mist

The kitchen hums back to life, Jace’s exaggerated commentary mingling with Theo’s quiet corrections and Rhett’s steady presence at thestove. But Wes stays where he is, watching with that calm intensity that’s always felt like a secret he’s waiting to share.

And for a moment, as the smells of garlic and spices swirl around us, I let myself imagine that this could be normal. That I could be part of this, part of them. Even though I know better.

Because sooner or later, I’ll have to leave. Sooner or later, this will have to end.

The dining table is chaos, but the kind of chaos that feels alive. Plates are passed back and forth, Jace narrating the "brilliance" of his contribution with exaggerated flair, while Rhett quietly refills everyone’s glasses. Theo settles into his seat like he’s orchestrating some grand feast, slicing the bread with careful precision. Gray sits at the head of the table, his eyes flicking between us, ever the quiet observer.

Wes slips into the chair next to me, his presence steady and grounding, though he hasn’t said much since he walked in. He glances at my plate, then at me, like he’s checking to see if I’ve eaten enough without actually asking.

I take a bite of whatever Jace slid onto my plate—something with chicken and a sauce that’s probably fancier than he lets on—and savor the warmth spreading through me. It tastes like effort. Like care. Like a version of family I haven’tlet myself believe in for a long time.

“This,” Jace says, pointing his fork at Rhett, “is why I should cook more often.”

Rhett snorts, leaning back in his chair. “You assembled ingredients, Jace. The oven did most of the work.”

“And yet, here you are, enjoying the fruits of my labor,” Jace fires back, flashing a grin. “Theo, back me up.”

Theo doesn’t even look up from his plate. “Your contribution was adequate.”

“High praise,” Wes murmurs, his voice dry but soft enough that it draws a flicker of a smile from me.

The banter carries on, warm and easy, but my stomach tightens as I sit there, my fork toying with the food on my plate. I should just say it. Rip off the bandage and deal with the fallout. But the words feel heavy, harder to push out than I’d expected.

Gray catches my hesitation first. His sharp green eyes narrow slightly as he leans forward, elbows resting on the table. “What’s on your mind, Bree?”

The table quiets, all their attention shifting to me in unison. It’s a weight I’ll never get used to—the intensity of their focus, the way they look atme like I’m something fragile and precious all at once.

“I’m going back to work tomorrow,” I say, the words tumbling out faster than I mean them to.

The reaction is immediate.

“What?” Jace blurts, nearly dropping his fork.

“You’re not ready,” Rhett says, his voice firm but not unkind.

“Bree,” Theo cuts in gently, setting his utensils down. “You’ve been through—”

“I know.” My voice is sharper than I intended, and I take a deep breath, forcing myself to meet their eyes. “I know I’ve been through a lot. I know you’re worried. But I need this.”

“Do you?” Gray asks, his tone even but edged with challenge. “Or do you think you need it because you’re afraid of leaning on us?”

“I can’t lean on you forever,” I say, the words burning in my throat. “I have to stand on my own.”

“We’re not asking you to lean on us forever,” Wes says quietly, his voice cutting through the tension. “Just... for as long as you need to.”

My chest tightens at the offer, at the steady way he looks at me, like he means it. Like he’d carry my weight forever if I let him.

“I appreciate everything you’ve done for me,” I say, my voice softer now. “Really, I do. But this is something I have to do. For me.”

The silence that follows feels heavy, but not hostile. Rhett runs a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply as if to steady himself. Jace looks down at his plate, his usual humor nowhere to be found. Theo’s brow furrows, his lips pressing into a thin line.

Gray is the first to break the silence. “If you’re going to work, you’re not going alone.”

“Gray—”

“Don’t argue,” he cuts me off, his tone brooking no room for debate. “You’re not walking into that place by yourself. Not until we know everything’s secure.”

“I’ll drive her,” Jace says, finally looking up. “I have a showing near there tomorrow anyway.”