19. Mara
Mara
I'm walking through a field of wildflowers, but the petals are made of glass, shattering under my feet with every step I take.
A voice calls my name, deep and familiar, but I can't place it.
It's neither Jonathan's cold command nor Mason's cheerful demand.
It's something else, something warmer, and it pulls me forward through the field of broken glass.
I reach out, my fingers brushing against the stem of a flower—
My eyes flutter open to the dim glow of my own room.
The dream fragments, disappearing like mist in the morning sun.
The sheets are twisted around my legs, damp and clinging.
A sheen of sweat coats my skin, and my hair sticks to my temples.
A familiar vise clamps around my temples, a dull, persistent throb that matches the rhythm of my heart.
My headache is back.
Noises drift up from downstairs, a low murmur of voices, punctuated by Tess's bright, unmistakable laugh. I sit up, my body protesting with a groan. I glance at the window, expecting to see the afternoon sun, but instead, I'm met with the deep, bruised purple of twilight.
Fuck.
I swing my legs over the side of the bed, my muscles stiff. I was only supposed to come up for a little nap, a quick escape from the world for an hour or two. The world, it seems, had other plans. I've slept the entire afternoon away.
Another cramp twists in my lower belly, a faint echo of an ache in my thighs. I press a hand to my stomach, frowning. It's probably just from sleeping so long, in such a weird position. I stumble toward the bathroom, my head feeling fuzzy and disconnected.
The spray of the shower is hot, almost punishing against my skin. I stand under the water, letting it cascade over my shoulders, hoping it will wash away the headache and the strange, restless energy humming beneath my skin. My hand skims down my stomach, and I freeze.
A slick, unfamiliar warmth greets my fingertips.
I'm… wet. Not from the shower, but a natural, internal slickness that shouldn't be there. Not with the suppressants. Not now.
My breath hitches. I quickly wash myself, my movements clumsy and rushed, trying to ignore the evidence of my body's betrayal. The slight cramping returns, a dull throb deep inside.
This is a complication I can't afford.
I shut off the water, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs. I need to get downstairs. I need to act normal.
I pull on a pair of jeans and a soft, oversized sweater, anything to feel contained, to feel like myself again. I run a brush through my damp hair and take a deep breath before descending the creaky stairs.
The scent of chocolate and cinnamon wafts up to meet me, a comforting blanket that almost, almost, calms the jittery feeling in my veins.
In the main part of the café, everyone is gathered around the large table near the fireplace.
Mugs of cocoa are cradled in their hands, steam curling into the air.
"Oh, Mara, honey, I hope we didn't wake you," Margaret says, her voice soft with concern. She's sitting beside Henry, who's nursing his own mug with a contented sigh.
Tess is practically vibrating in her seat, her face alight with joy. "I got it! I got the job!" she exclaims before I can even answer Margaret. "Professor Alden called me right before we left the diner! I'm the new TA for Behavioral Dynamics!"
A genuine smile touches my lips, the first one that's felt real all day. "Tess, that's incredible! I knew you'd get it."
I scan the table. Gray is there, looking tired but happy for Tess. Daniel is sitting next to him, and Leo… Leo is not here.
A sharp, unexpected pang lances through my chest. He must be on his date. The thought feels like a small stone in my shoe, an annoying, persistent discomfort I can't shake off. Why should I care? I'm done with men. All of them.
My gaze finds Daniel's. He's looking at me, and his lips curve into a smile, but the warmth doesn't travel to his eyes. They remain distant, shadowed pools of green, filled with a weight I don't understand. He tilts his head slightly, his expression questioning.
What's wrong? he mouths, the words silent but clear.
I shake my head, forcing a brighter smile. Nothing, I mouth back.
There's an empty space on the bench beside him, and I slide into it.
Our shoulders brush and a strange heat prickles under my skin, a feverish feeling that has nothing to do with the sweater I'm wearing.
I press my thighs together, a subtle, restless motion.
The feverish feeling is a low hum beneath my ribs, a warning bell I'm trying to silence.
I'm okay.
"We should all go to the Bluejay to celebrate!" Tess declares, raising her mug in a toast. "My treat!"
Gray groans, leaning his head back against the wall. "Tess, I love you, but I'm exhausted. Can we please do that tomorrow? My brain is basically soup right now."
"Yeah, tomorrow would be better," Daniel chimes in, his voice a low rumble that I feel more than hear. "We're all running on fumes."
"Okay, okay, tomorrow it is," Tess concedes, though her pout is playful. "But we're staying until they kick us out."
"It's a date," Gray says with a tired grin.
Margaret sets her mug down with a soft clink. "Henry and I were talking. With this influx of bookings for the ski season, we're thinking we need to hire more people. Especially for housekeeping and maintenance. We just can't keep up."
Daniel sits up straighter, his lawyer-mode expression falling into place.
"Mom, we're here for a bit. Gray, Leo, and I can help out.
There's no need to spend the money on new staff right away.
We can cover the gaps while you look for permanent hires.
" He pauses, his tone practical and firm.
"You should put that money into savings.
Reinvest it later if you need to, but don't rush into new payroll. "
Margaret looks at him, her expression a mix of pride and exasperation.
"You always were the sensible one." She sighs softly.
"It would be a relief to have some trusted hands around, even if it's just for a little while.
" She pushes her chair back, stretching.
"Well, I'm heading to bed. These old bones don't recover like they used to.
You all can lock up once you're done with your drinks. "
She and Henry say their goodnights and head out into the snow toward home, leaving the four of us around the table. The fire crackles in the hearth, casting dancing shadows on the walls. The low hum of the refrigerator is the only other sound. The air feels thicker now, more intimate.
Tess is chattering about her plans for the TA position, Gray is nodding along with a half-smile, and Daniel is quiet again, his presence a heavy, warm weight beside me.
I wrap my hands around my cocoa mug, the ceramic a comforting warmth against my palms, and try to ignore the feeling that's slowly taking over my body.
"I'll get these," Tess says, already starting to stack the empty cocoa mugs, her movements still buzzing with the energy of her good news. "You guys go on."
"No way," I counter, reaching for the cups. "You're the one with the new job and an early start tomorrow. Go get some sleep. I've got this."
From across the table, Gray and Daniel share one of those silent, weighted looks that passes between pack members, a whole conversation in a single glance. It's a look I've seen a hundred times between them, a language I don't speak.
Gray pushes his chair back, the legs scraping softly against the old floorboards. "I'm heading to sleep too," he says, his voice thick with exhaustion. "See you in the morning, Mara."
"'Night, Gray," I reply, managing a small smile.
Daniel stands as well, but instead of heading for the door, he walks over to me. "I'll help," he says, his voice low. "It'll go faster."
Together, we carry the collection of cups and saucers to the large porcelain sink in the corner of the kitchen. The clinking of ceramic is the only sound in the quiet café. The moment we set them down, the space between us feels charged, humming with an unspoken current.
I turn to him, and the air shifts. A magnetic pull, an inevitability. His mouth is on mine, hungry and desperate, and I meet him with equal force. All the confusion, the feverish ache in my body, the strange pang from Leo's absence—it all melts away under the heat of this.
"I missed you," I murmur against his lips, the words muffled, breathed into him. I don't know where it comes from, but it's true. I missed this feeling, this connection that obliterates everything else.
His hands slide into my hair, tilting my head back as his lips trail down my jaw to my neck. He nuzzles the sensitive skin there, inhaling deeply. "God, you smell so fucking good," he groans, the vibration of his voice sending a shiver straight through me. "Like honeysuckle and rain."
My hands are fisted in the front of his shirt, clutching the soft cotton. "How was your drive?" I ask, the question a flimsy attempt to ground myself, to remember there's a world outside of this kitchen, outside of his touch.
"Okay," he says, his voice muffled against my skin. A lie. He pulls back just enough to look at me, his green eyes searching mine in the dim light.
I look at him. The shadows under his eyes are darker than before, his mouth set in a tight line despite the passion of a moment ago.
"Are you okay?" I press, my voice softer now.
"I am," he says, his thumb stroking my cheek. "I promise."
I don't believe him, but I want to. I lean in and kiss him again. He responds instantly, his arms wrapping around my waist, pulling me flush against him. He curses under his breath, and then he's lifting me.