I write about hope—tentative and fragile, but growing stronger every day. Hope that maybe I don't have to choose between healing and happiness. That maybe I can have both, here, with them.
The sound of a gentle knock on my door interrupts my flow. I look up, blinking in confusion. When did it get so dark outside? The bedside clock reads 8:47 PM. I've been writing for over ten hours.
"Eliana?" Fen's voice, concerned. "You missed dinner. Can I come in?"
I save the document—over fifteen thousand words, I realize with shock—and call out, "Come in."
He enters carrying a tray with a bowl of soup, fresh bread, and another cup of that perfectly brewed coffee. His hazel eyes take in my disheveled state with gentle concern.
"You've been at this all day," he observes, setting the tray on my desk. "Everything okay?"
I stare at the screen, at the words I've poured onto the page like blood from a wound. "I'm writing," I say, and the wonder in my own voice surprises me. "I'm actually writing again."
His expression softens. "That's good. Really good." He pauses, studying my face. "What are you writing about?"
Heat floods my cheeks. I can't exactly tell him I've been documenting every moment of our time together, every feeling, every barely suppressed desire. “I’m just thinking about it all.”
He nods like he understands. Maybe he does. Fen has always been perceptive, always seemed to see straight through to the heart of things.
"The roads are clear," he says gently. "Kael checked an hour ago. You could leave tonight if you wanted to."
The words hit me like a physical blow. I could leave. Right now. Walk away from this place, from these people who've become my anchor, and go back to existing in that gray half-life I'd been living before the storm?
"Do you want me to leave?" The question slips out before I can stop it.
Something flickers in his eyes—surprise, maybe. Or pain. "Want you to leave? Eliana, we've been walking around like ghosts all day, trying to figure out how to let you go."
"Let me go?"
He runs a hand through his hair, messing the usually neat strands. "We don't want to pressure you. Don't want to make you feel obligated to stay just because we care about you."
The words settle into my chest like seeds in fertile soil.
"What if I don't want to go?" I whisper.
His eyes widen. "What?"
"What if I want to stay? What if this—" I gesture vaguely at the room, at him, at the life we've built together, "—what if this is exactly where I'm supposed to be?"
For a moment, he just stares at me. Then his face breaks into a smile so bright it takes my breath away.
"Then you stay," he says simply. "You stay as long as you want, and we figure out the rest as we go."
I laugh, and it comes out watery with tears I didn't realize were falling. "It's that simple?"
"It's that simple." He reaches out, his thumb gently wiping the tears from my cheek. "We're not going anywhere, Eliana. We're your pack now, if you'll have us."
If I'll have them. As if there's any question. As if I haven't been falling in love with all three of them, one quiet moment at a time.
"I'll have you," I manage to say through the tightness in my throat. "All of you."
Fen's hand is still on my cheek, his touch warm and steadying. I lean into it, closing my eyes and breathing in his scent—that earthy, grounding presence that's become as essential to me as air.
When I open my eyes, he's watching me with an expression I've never seen before. Soft and wondering and full of something that makes my heart race.
"You should eat," he says quietly, but he doesn't move his hand. "And maybe get some sleep. Tomorrow we can talk to Kael and Rhys, figure out the details."
I nod, suddenly aware of how exhausted I am. The emotional purge of writing, combined with the revelation that I'm choosing to stay, has left me wrung out but oddly peaceful.
