Page 144 of Faith and Fury

Because they love me.

“Oh hey,” Micah says, putting things away in the kitchen. “I just got an email from the judge’s assistant. Apparently they need to move the next hearing back a couple days. Is everyone okay for Thursday at nine?”

“Works for me,” Jaxon sighs. Caleb nods.

Micah looks at me. “What do you think, baby? That work for you?”

I want to groan, or pout, or shake my head. These hearings have been relentless—one after the other, drawn out by tiresome legal jargon and aggravating defenses. But I knew what I was signing up for when I agreed to act as a key witness. And, exhausting as it is, I don’t regret my decision.

Micah softens. “Faith? You okay?”

Instantly, Jaxon and Caleb are looking at me as well. Jaxon grumbles, returning to wrap me in his arms. “I think you made her grumpy,” he says.

You’re grumpy, I sign back, stubbornly.

Caleb hums. “We can ask them to push it to next week, if you need a longer break.” He regards me with concern. “You must be exhausted.”

No, I sign. It’s fine.

I can put up with another hearing. And several more after that. It’s like my alphas keep assuring me—no matter how slow progress might seem, it’s still progress. That counts for something.

Besides, a part of me feels like I owe this much to the world. After what I did … who I hurt, or got hurt …

“Hey.” Caleb takes my face in his hand. “Talk to us. What’s eating you?”

I could tell him. It would take a while, and probably a couple references to the AMERICAN SIGN LANGUAGE FOR DUMMIES, but I know he’d be patient.

Even so … it’s nothing we haven’t discussed before. And honestly, right now, I’m not sure I want to dwell on these things more than I have to.

Later, I sign at last. Please.

Caleb glances down. “I’m holding you to that, omega.”

He starts to drift away when an idea dawns on me. I pinch his shirt, bringing his attention back to my hands.

Can we see Fang tonight?

Thankfully, Caleb doesn’t darken, as he sometimes does when I mention Fang. “Sure,” he says. “How about dinner?”

I smile. Nod.

“Ooh …” Jaxon teases, lifting another box—this one headed for the living room. “Another dinner date with Fang. Maverick will be thrilled.”

I roll my eyes again, though this time it’s to hide my blush.

Being separated from Fang, so soon after I got him back, has definitely been a blow. At first I was so angry I wanted to shut down completely—tell him to enjoy his life without me—but I couldn’t do it. I need him too much for that.

The RDF couldn’t, ‘in good conscience’, set him up in independent living. Nor could they stick him in a refuge.

And so, Maverick put his hand up for the job.

It’s worked out better than any of us expected. Maybe Fang’s time in the arena, bunking with difficult rogues, has made him an ideal roommate. Or maybe Maverick just likes the company.

“He likes being close to you,” Jaxon explained his own theory a few nights ago. “Staying with Fang means he has a piece of you, almost literally, by his side … I think that helps.”

I asked him what exactly it helps with, and Jaxon went quiet, and didn’t answer.

“That actually works out well!” Micah calls out. “I probably wasn’t going to be able to cook tonight, anyway.” He gestures around all the boxes in the kitchen. “Bit of a mess.”

---