Page 43 of Forget-Me-Nots and Apricots

“I’ll eat with you,” I say softly, a choice made more out of need than desire.

Lucas nods, a slight relief in his posture. He steps back, motioning for me to follow. “Alright then, let’s get you some food.”

As we walk through the corridor, I can feel the weight of the day pushing against my chest, but his presence allows a sliver of light to cut through the heaviness. I wonder, as we make our way to the kitchen, if this is the balm I’ve needed—a moment to stitch together the tattered edges of my heart, if only for a while.

The kitchen greets me with the smell of food, making my stomach growl with hunger. I hesitate at the threshold, acutely aware of the dampness still on my cheeks, a dissonance between my internal storm and the laughter spilling from the table. I take a deep breath before stepping into the kitchen, Lucan beside me not saying anything as if he knew I needed a minute to compose myself.

The room comes alive as I enter, a swirl of movement and sound. Conversation quiets momentarily, replaced by the flutter of my heart in my chest. Faces turn toward me, a gathering of familiar warmth and kindness that cuts through the weight of my emotions.

“Hey, look who finally decided to join!” Dakota says with a teasing grin, his tone lighter than I am used to hearing.

I force a smile, but I can feel the redness blooming on my cheeks—probably a mixture of the lingering effects of my tears and the embarrassment of being on display. As I move closer to the table, I notice the spread of food laid out, a colorful display that clashes violently with the heaviness of my mood.

"Come, sit," Gabriel gestures to an empty chair next to him, his eyes meeting mine with an understanding that makes me wonder if he can sense my emotional state. I slide into the seat, grateful for the normalcy of the moment despite everything.

Theo sets a plate in front of me, already filled with what looks like some kind of pasta dish with roasted vegetables. "You need to eat," he says quietly, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Especially after today."

"Thank you," I murmur, the simple kindness nearly bringing fresh tears to my eyes. I take a bite, surprised by how good it tastes—rich and savory with hints of herbs I can't quite identify. My hunger awakens fully with that first bite, and I realize I haven't eaten since our lunch at the café.

"Good, right?" Lucas says, noticing my expression. "Theo is the one with the culinary skills in this house.”

Theo adjusts his glasses, a hint of a smile on his lips. "Someone had to learn to cook properly. Otherwise, we'd all be living on takeout and protein shakes."

I take another bite, letting the flavors distract me from the emotional turmoil still churning inside. The normalcy of this dinner scene—four Alphas and me, eating pasta and talking about cooking skills—feels surreal against the backdrop of what's happened in the last twenty-four hours.

"How are you holding up?" Gabriel asks quietly, his voice pitched low enough that only I can hear him over Dakota and Lucas's banter about some case they worked on last year.

I hesitate, fork suspended midway to my mouth. The automatic "I'm fine" hovers on my lips, but something in Gabriel's expression stops me from saying it. Maybe it's the genuine concern in his eyes, or maybe I'm just too tired to maintain the facade.

"Honestly? Not great," I admit, keeping my voice equally low. "It's... a lot to process."

Gabriel nods, no judgment in his expression. "That's understandable. You've been through more in the past few days than most people experience in years."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" I ask, a hint of wry humor breaking through my melancholy.

"No," he replies with surprising candor. "Just acknowledging reality."

I take another bite, grateful for his straightforward response. There's no empty platitude, no Alpha assurance that everything will be fine. Just recognition of the situation for what it is—difficult, frightening, overwhelming.

"The food is really good," I say, changing the subject. "I didn't expect..."

"What? That Alphas could cook?" Theo asks, apparently having over heard my comment. There's a teasing glint behind his glasses.

"That you'd have time for proper meals," I clarify, offering a small smile. "With everything going on, I half-expected microwave dinners."

"We make time for real food," Theo says, passing a basket of garlic bread my way. "It's one of our non-negotiables. Pack dinners, whenever possible."

"Pack dinners," I repeat, the concept foreign yet oddly appealing. My meals have been solitary affairs for so long—quick bites between customers at the shop, takeout eaten at my kitchen counter while scrolling through social media.

"It's important," Gabriel says, his voice carrying a weight that suggests deeper meaning. "Sharing meals, checking in with each other. Especially in our line of work."

Dakota snorts, reaching for his water glass. "What he means is,

, if we don't force family dinner, we'd all disappear into our work and forget to eat or sleep," Dakota clarifies with a wry smile. "Especially Gabriel and Theo."

"I'm not that bad," Theo protests mildly, adjusting his glasses.

"You once worked for thirty-six hours straight and only realized when you fell asleep face-first in your keyboard," Lucas points out, grinning. "We found you with the letter 'J' imprinted on your forehead."

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