44
Phoenix
The nightmare tore me from sleep, my heart pounding in my chest, the ghostly echoes of Zephyr’s betrayal and my own relapse still haunting the edges of my mind. Sweat clung to my skin, and the sheets felt too warm, too suffocating, like they were trapping me in my own shame. I sat up quickly, breathing heavily as I pushed the blankets away, desperate for air.
I’d been having these nightmares for days now, maybe even weeks, though time blurred when every night felt like a battle I couldn’t win. I hated that I couldn’t shake the memories, that they’d taken root so deep inside me. It was like my mind wouldn’t let me forget how badly I’d fallen, how I’d let everyone down—especially myself.
I threw on a hoodie and padded quietly down the hall, hoping that maybe some fresh air or tea would help calm the storm inside me. As I descended the stairs, the soft glow of the kitchen light filtered into the hallway, and I hesitated. Parker was up again.
I almost turned around, not wanting to burden him with my sleeplessness, but the weight of my thoughts was too much to carry alone. I stepped into the kitchen, and there he was, leaning against the counter, staring down at a cup of tea like it held the answers to everything.
“You’re up again?”
I asked softly, my voice breaking the stillness of the house.
Parker looked up, his expression softening when he saw me. He gave a small, tired smile. “Yeah, I don’t sleep as much now that I’m not drinking.”
His words hit me harder than I expected, a wave of guilt crashing over me. I’d noticed that he wasn’t reaching for the bottle as much lately, but I hadn’t realized just how much it had changed his life—his nights. All because of me. I shifted uncomfortably, crossing my arms over my chest as if I could protect myself from the guilt gnawing at my insides.
“You don’t have to quit on my account,”
I mumbled, my voice thick with shame. “I don’t want to be the reason you can’t sleep.”
Parker set down his cup and crossed the room, stopping just in front of me. He gently lifted my chin with his fingers, forcing me to meet his eyes. There was something tender and unwavering in his gaze, something I hadn’t allowed myself to fully accept before.
“Phoenix,”
he said softly, his voice a quiet promise. “There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you, Sweetheart. But this… this isn’t just for you. It’s for me too.”
His words settled over me like a balm, soothing the ache I didn’t realize had been there for so long. I wasn’t used to someone showing up for me like that, putting me first, and meaning it. Not since… well, not since before everything fell apart.
I didn’t know what to say, so I just nodded, swallowing back the lump in my throat. Parker seemed to understand. He didn’t push, didn’t expect anything more from me. Instead, he turned and moved back to the counter, quietly putting on the kettle to make me some tea, just like he had on other sleepless nights. The silence between us was comfortable, not awkward like it used to be.
Once the tea was ready, he set a cup in front of me and sat down beside me at the small kitchen table. For a while, we just sat there, the warmth of the tea seeping into my hands, grounding me. I could feel Parker’s presence beside me, steady and calm, like an anchor in the storm I’d been fighting for so long. And for the first time in a long time, I felt safe. I didn’t feel the need to run or hide.
Slowly, the walls I’d built around myself started to crack.
“I feel… scared,”
I admitted quietly, barely above a whisper. The words tasted foreign on my tongue, like I wasn’t supposed to say them out loud. “And broken.”
Parker didn’t say anything, didn’t try to fix it. He just listened, his eyes never leaving mine. His silence made it easier to keep talking, to let the truth spill out.
“I don’t know how to come back from this,”
I continued, my voice trembling. “The relapse… the drinking… I feel like I’m sinking, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t find solid ground. I don’t even know if I want to try anymore.”
There it was, the ugly truth I hadn’t let myself acknowledge until now. The part of me that wanted to give up, that felt like I wasn’t worth saving, not after everything I’d done.
But Parker didn’t flinch. He didn’t pull away. Instead, he reached across the table and gently took my hand in his, his thumb brushing lightly over my knuckles. It was a small gesture, but it felt like a lifeline.
“You’re not broken, Phoenix,”
he said softly, his voice steady and sure. “You’re just… healing. And it’s okay to be scared. It’s okay to feel like you don’t have all the answers right now.”
I blinked back the tears that burned in the corners of my eyes, trying to keep it together. But the gentleness in his voice, the way he didn’t try to minimize what I was feeling, broke something inside me. I hadn’t realized how much I needed to hear that, how much I needed someone to just sit with me in the dark without trying to pull me out of it.
“I don’t know if I can do this,”
I whispered, my voice cracking. “I don’t know if I can keep fighting.”
Parker squeezed my hand a little tighter, his gaze never wavering. “You don’t have to do it alone, Phoenix. We’re here. I’m here.”
I looked at him then, really looked at him, and for the first time, I let myself lean into his support. I let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t as alone as I’d always felt. And in that moment, something inside me softened. The fear was still there, but it wasn’t as paralyzing as it had been before. Because I wasn’t facing it on my own anymore.
I nodded slowly, unable to find the words to express the mix of emotions swirling inside me. But Parker didn’t need words. He just sat there, his hand in mine, quietly reassuring me that it was okay to lean on him, that it was okay to be vulnerable.
◆◆◆
Wren arrived like a whirlwind, as she always did. The moment she stepped through the door, her arms flew around me, pulling me into a tight hug that nearly knocked the wind out of me. I couldn’t help but smile into her shoulder, her familiar scent grounding me in a way I hadn’t felt in weeks. But even as she held me, I noticed her eyes flicker over my shoulder, shooting wary glances at the Alphas lounging in the living room.
She didn’t say anything, but the tension in her grip was enough to tell me that she wasn’t exactly thrilled about their presence. Typical Wren—always protective, always ready to go to war for me, even when there was no battle to fight.
“Come on,”
I said, pulling back and offering her a smile. “Let’s get you settled.”
Wren shot one last glare toward the Alphas before following me up the stairs. As we reached my room, I opened the door and motioned for her to step inside, eager to have a moment alone with her. But the second Wren crossed the threshold, something strange washed over me. It was like a possessive knot tightened in my chest, an unfamiliar sensation curling in my gut. I froze in the doorway, my breath catching.
Wren took a few steps into the room, her back to me as she set her bag down on the floor. I watched her, feeling that tightness intensify, my hands beginning to wring together in nervous confusion. What the hell was happening? This was Wren, my sister, the one person who’d always had free reign in my life. We’d shared everything—clothes, rooms, even secrets. There had never been any boundaries between us.
But now, seeing her in this room—my room—it felt wrong. Territorial. Like she was crossing a line I hadn’t even known existed.
Wren turned around after a moment, her brows knitting together as she saw me standing in the doorway, frozen in place. “Phoenix?”
she asked gently, her voice filled with concern. “You alright?”
I tried to speak, to reassure her, but the words got stuck in my throat. My hands twisted together, the nervous energy crackling through my fingers as I struggled to make sense of what I was feeling. Why couldn’t I just step inside? Why was I acting like this?
Wren’s eyes narrowed slightly as she studied me, her head tilting in that way it always did when she was piecing something together. She was quick to read me, quicker than anyone else, and it wasn’t long before her expression softened with understanding.
“Oh, Nix…”
she whispered, her voice filled with gentle sympathy. “Of course this would be upsetting. This is the room your Alphas gave you.”
My Alphas. The words hit me like a punch to the gut, stirring up a mix of emotions I wasn’t ready to deal with. She was right—this was the room they had given me, a space that was meant to be mine, a place I had begun to associate with them. Even though I wasn’t ready to admit it, a part of me did see this room as something connected to them, something sacred, something I wasn’t willing to share—not even with Wren.
Before I could say anything, Wren offered me a soft smile and continued, “I’ll stay in the guest room, like I had planned. It’s no big deal.”
“But you’re my sister,”
I protested, finally finding my voice, though it came out shaky. “It’s never mattered before.”
Wren stepped toward me, placing a hand on my arm and giving it a gentle squeeze. “I know, Nix. But neither of us have had Alphas in the mix before. It’s different now.”
I swallowed hard, my mind racing. She was right again, as much as I hated to admit it. Things were different. I had never had anyone like them in my life—anyone who could affect me so deeply without even being in the room. This possessiveness I felt, this strange instinct to protect my space, wasn’t something I understood yet. But it was there, and Wren could see it just as clearly as I felt it.
“They aren’t mine,”
I muttered under my breath, the words bitter and defensive.
Wren chuckled softly, her eyes twinkling with affection. “Yes, they are, Nix. Whether you want to admit it or not, they’re yours. And you’re theirs. That’s why you’re feeling like this.”
I stared at her, my mind spinning. Was she right? Had I already started to claim them in some way, even if I wasn’t ready to acknowledge it? The thought made my chest tighten, a confusing mix of fear and something else—something warmer, more comforting.
Before I could spiral further into my own thoughts, Wren clapped her hands together and gave me a bright smile. “Alright, come on. Show me to the guest room, and then we can get those dipshits downstairs to make us some food. I’m starving.”