The Flavor of Us (Beta Accepted)

27. TATI

Chapter twenty-seven

TATI

The past few days have been perfect.

I wake up surrounded by warmth and the lingering scents of my Alphas. My nest has never felt more like home, and it’s not even fully mine. But with them curled around me, tangled in soft blankets and pillows, it feels right .

Every day starts with a kiss from Carleen or Ashton pressing a warm cup of coffee into my hands. Ryder usually gives me one of those quiet smiles, the kind that feels like it’s reserved just for me. It makes my heart stutter every single time.

I’ve been floating— thriving.

At Euphoria, my sets have been on fire. I feel lighter, more confident, and when I step off stage, I know I’m coming home to them. To all of them. But even as the days blur into each other, a routine forming effortlessly, something’s been nagging at the edges of my mind.

Carleen.

She’s been working herself raw in the kitchen. From sun-up to long past sunset, she’s hunched over counters, sleeves rolled up, her brow furrowed in concentration. Ashton and Ryder try to keep her in check—bringing her water, stealing bites of her creations to make her laugh, pulling her into fleeting moments of rest.

But it’s not enough. She's stressing over the final touches—as if nothing we’ve done all week has loosened her up in the kitchen. I’m at my wit's end and I don’t know what to do.

And today, as I’m curled up on the couch with an oversized sweater swallowing me whole, watching Carleen dart around the kitchen while Ashton chops something and Ryder stirs a pot, I feel that worry gnawing at my chest. The bond is tight, rigid, compared to the warmth from when Carleen and I first bonded. I don’t know what’s wrong.

I’m munching on something citrusy and sticky—an orange-glazed pastry that Ashton practically shoved into my mouth earlier with a playful wink. But my appetite’s fading as I watch Carleen pause, one hand braced against the counter, the other pressing into her lower back.

She looks tired . Her cheeks are a little pale, the glow of her peaches-and-rain scent duller than usual. Ashton notices too. His knife stills against the cutting board, his head tilting as he watches her. Ryder catches on seconds later, setting down the wooden spoon and stepping closer. But before either of them can reach her, Carleen takes one step back from the counter—then stumbles.

The plate in my hand drops onto the coffee table with a loud clink.

“Carleen!” Ashton’s voice is sharp as he lunges forward, catching her before she hits the floor.

Ryder’s there too, his strong arms wrapping around her waist as they ease her gently onto one of the kitchen stools. I’m off the couch before I can even think, my bare feet slapping against the hardwood as I rush over. My breath is caught somewhere in my chest and my hands are trembling.

Carleen’s head is tilted back, her eyes squeezed shut as she tries to steady herself. Ryder’s kneeling in front of her, one large hand braced on her knee, the other hovering near her cheek. Ashton is crouched on her other side, his brow furrowed, his hand clutching hers tightly.

“Alpha…” My voice comes out small, shaky.

Her eyes flutter open, brown meeting hazel, her lips pulling into a faint smile. “I’m okay, sunshine. I just… got a little lightheaded.”

“No,” Ryder growls. “You’re not okay, Carleen. When was the last time you actually ate something? Or sat down for more than ten minutes?”

Ashton’s jaw ticks as he exhales sharply through his nose. “He’s right. You’ve been pushing yourself way too hard. The menu is fine. ”

Carleen tries to wave them off, but her hand trembles in Ashton’s grip and it only makes my stomach twist harder.

“Enough,” Ryder says, standing and crossing his arms over his chest. His blue eyes are hard as they lock onto Carleen’s. “You’re done for today. That’s not a suggestion.”

Carleen’s lips press into a thin line like she’s about to argue, but then she catches my expression. My hands are clutched to my chest, my lower lip trembling as I try to keep the tears from spilling over.

Her shoulders sag. “Okay,” she whispers.

Ryder nods once, his sharp gaze softening slightly before he looks at Ashton. “Get her some water. And something to eat. I’ll get her settled on the couch.”

Ashton moves quickly, grabbing a glass from the counter and filling it with water while Ryder bends down, one arm sliding under Carleen's knees, the other supporting her back. Carleen grumbles under her breath, something about not being an invalid, but she doesn’t fight him as he lifts her effortlessly.

I step back, wringing my hands as Ryder carries her to the couch and gently sets her down. Her head falls back against the cushions, her brown eyes briefly closing before fluttering open again to look at me.

“Tati, sweetheart,” she says softly, her voice weaker than I want it to be. “Don’t look so worried. I’m okay.”

“You’re not okay, Carleen,” I whisper, stepping closer until I’m perched on the arm of the couch. “You scared me.”

Ryder takes a blanket from the back of the couch and drapes it over her lap, his movements careful, precise. Ashton appears a second later with the water and a small bowl of something—soup, maybe? I can’t quite tell because my focus is locked on Carleen’s pale face.

“I’ve been watching you for too long, Carleen,” Ryder begins as Ashton hands her the bottle of water. “You push yourself. Over and over. Until you’ve got nothing left to give. And it’s too much.”

“I’m fine,” she insists, but her voice wavers just enough to betray her words.

Ryder shakes his head, his thumbs brushing lightly against her knees. “No, you’re not. And it’s okay not to be. But what’s not okay is you thinking you have to earn your place here by exhausting yourself.”

Carleen opens her mouth, probably to snap back, but Ryder’s already leaning in closer, his gaze locked onto hers as they snap open to meet his.

“You don’t have to prove yourself to anyone. Not to me. Not to Ashton. Not to Tati. You’re ours, Carleen. And we’re yours. No one here is keeping score and no one here is going to let you run yourself into the ground just to feel like you’re enough.”

The words hang heavy in the air and I can see Carleen’s shoulders start to relax, just slightly. Her gaze drops to Ryder’s hands on her knees and her lips part as if she’s going to argue again, but she doesn’t.

Ryder’s voice softens, but the steel remains. “It’s hard for you to sit still. I know that. But you’re going to do it today. You’re going to sit here and you’re going to breathe and you’re going to let yourself be . Hell, I don’t care if you go to the movies or something but no work.”

Carleen swallows hard, her eyes flicking to mine briefly before landing back on Ryder. “And if I don’t?”

Ryder raises a brow, a faint smirk ghosting across his lips. “Do you really want to test me on that?”

Some part of me loves this fierce exchange and the other part is terrified that Carleen thought she had to work so hard. Carleen huffs out a breath, her arms dropping from her chest as she sinks back into the couch cushions and takes the bowl of soup from Ashton.

“There you go,” Ryder murmurs, his thumbs still stroking slow circles against her knees. “That’s it. You’re not going into that kitchen today. Not for anything. You’re going to let someone else handle things for once.”

Something flickers in Carleen’s eyes—something soft, something vulnerable—and before she can pull away or put her walls back up, Ryder leans in and presses a feather-light kiss to her lips. It’s brief. Soft. Barely a whisper of contact. But it’s enough to make Carleen’s eyes flutter shut, her breath catching in her throat. When Ryder pulls back, he rises to his full height, his hand lingering on her cheek for just a moment longer before he steps back.

“I’m sorry,” Carleen whispers to me. “I get so into my head sometimes. Ellie was always the one to drag me out of it because she was here.”

“Then I’ll be the one to drag you out of it.”

She snorts, ungracefully shoveling some of the soup into her mouth. “How about we go visit Ellie then since I can’t step into my own damn kitchen?” There’s no bite behind her words there, a playful but tired edge to her voice. I agree, only because it’ll keep her away from the menu, the kitchen, and whatever else is bothering her.