Chapter 29 Nova
Nova
I stare at the stairs.
Everyone’s inside. The door is closed. Locke is doing a sweep of the windows and that doesn’t surprise me one bit. Kyron is already mapping something in his head — I can see it on his face, the way his eyes go unfocused when he’s processing.
I’m standing at the bottom of the stairs looking up and I can’t move.
Four doors up there. Four rooms. I’ve been rotating between them for two weeks like it’s normal, like knocking on someone’s door at two in the morning is just a thing I do now.
And tonight I can’t. Not because I don’t want to.
Because I want all of them and I can’t pick one and the idea of choosing feels like the hardest thing anyone’s ever asked me to do.
Which is insane. I literally just flew over a forest on fire and fought off bears and this is what breaks me. Stairs.
I can feel them watching me. Nobody’s saying anything. They’re waiting for me to pick a direction and I’m just standing here like an idiot with a crow still on my shoulder and a blanket that keeps slipping.
“Hey.”
Trey. He’s beside me. I didn’t hear him come over.
“I got you,” he says.
He doesn’t wait for me to answer. Which is good since I don’t know what he’s talking about.
“Vaelor, she hasn’t eaten. Can you make her something?”
Vaelor’s already moving toward the kitchen before Trey finishes the sentence.
“Locke, Rane — start moving the furniture in the living room. Push it to the walls.”
Locke looks at him. Then at me. Then back at Trey. And nods.
“Beckett, Kyron — go grab mattresses. All of them. Every pillow and blanket in this house.”
“All of them?” Kyron raises an eyebrow.
“All of them.”
Nobody argues. Nobody asks why. They just move.
Locke and Rane push the couch against the far wall. The armchair goes to the corner. The coffee table gets carried to the kitchen. In three minutes the living room is empty except for the fireplace and the rug.
Trey crouches in front of the fireplace and adds wood. The flames catch and the room goes warm and gold.
Beckett and Kyron come down the stairs carrying mattresses. Two trips. Then armfuls of blankets. Then every pillow in the house, which is more than I realized we had because someone — probably Mara — has been quietly adding to our supply.
They lay the mattresses side by side in front of the fireplace. It’s not neat. The edges don’t line up. One is thicker than the other and there’s a gap in the middle that someone stuffs a folded blanket into. Pillows get thrown on without any system. Blankets piled on top.
It looks like a nest. A ridiculous, oversized, completely impractical nest in the middle of a living room.
It’s perfect.
Vaelor comes out of the kitchen with a plate. Bread, cheese, leftover soup warmed up. He sets it on the edge of the mattress and sits down next to it.
I’m still standing at the bottom of the stairs. Still holding the blanket. Still staring.
“Nova,” Trey says, gentle. “Sit down.”
The crow makes a sound like it’s not happy with me and flies over to the mantle. I guess it lives here now too.
I sit. On the mattress, next to Vaelor, and I eat because he made it and because I’m starving and because if I don’t do something with my hands I’m going to cry again.
They settle around me. Not all at once. Just drifting into position like it’s gravity.
Locke by the wall closest to the door. Kyron on the far side where he can see everything.
Rane sprawled out taking up more space than necessary.
Beckett quiet and close. And Vaelor beside me, making sure I finish the soup.
Trey is the last to sit down. He takes the edge. The spot that’s furthest from center. He does that a lot, gives everyone else room first.
“Trey,” I say.
He looks at me.
I scoot over. Make space beside me. Right in the middle of this ridiculous pile.
“Get over here.”
Something crosses his face that I’ve never seen on him. He doesn’t move for a second. But he finally does. Settles beside me and his shoulder presses against mine and he lets out a breath like he’s been holding it all night.
Maybe longer.
The fire crackles. Someone pulls a blanket up. Rane makes a comment about Locke’s feet being cold and Locke threatens to put them on his face. Kyron tells them both to shut up and Beckett’s hand finds mine under the blanket.
I lean my head against Trey’s shoulder. He goes still. Then his arm comes around me and I feel him relax. Like something finally unlocked.
“Thank you,” I say. Quiet enough that maybe only he hears it.
“For what?”
“For knowing.”
He doesn’t answer. Just tightens his arm.
Seven people on a pile of mattresses in front of a fireplace.
It’s not a bed. It’s not permanent. It’s not even comfortable — Rane’s elbow is in my ribs and someone’s foot is on my ankle.
But everyone is here. And nobody had to choose.
I didn’t have to choose.
I close my eyes.
For the first time in my life, I don’t have to knock on anyone’s door.
They’re all already here.