Page 37 of Rescue Me

“You shouldn’t have gone outside during your pre-heat,” she says, narrowing her eyes at him. “What did I tell you about that?”

Ethan waves her off with a dramatic flourish, trying to squirm out of her grip. “I’m fine, I’m fine!” he insists, his voice muffled but still somehow loud enough to fill the room. “I had to get the good stuff for Reid!”

They’re wrestling now, Ethan twisting and turning in Zana’s arms while she keeps him pinned with ease. She’s laughing, her teeth flashing in a way that makes her look almost feral, but there’s so much warmth in her eyes that it’s impossible to take her seriously. Ethan finally breaks free, flopping against the other end of the couch with a triumphant huff, his curls a wild mess.

I watch them, my chest tightening in a way that has nothing to do with pain. They’re ridiculous. Loud and messy and unapologetically themselves. And then there's a flicker of something I don’t quite recognize. It’s not envy. It’s not even longing. It’s something deeper, something quieter, like the faintest hum of a melody I’ve forgotten.

This. This is what I’ve wanted. Not the picture-perfect, polished version of a family I used to dream about, but this chaos. This warmth. This love that spills out in every laugh, every playful shove, every half-muttered complaint that’s really just code forI love you.

Ethan catches me staring and grins again, his cheeks flushed from exertion. “Reid!” he says, scooting closer until he’s almost in my lap. “Do you like pancakes? Because I got, like, three different kinds—chocolate chip, blueberry, and plain—just in case.”

I blink at him, caught off guard by the sheer intensity of his enthusiasm. “Uh... yeah,” I manage, my voice rough. “Pancakes are good.”

The chaos continues as Ethan bolts for the kitchen, his bare feet skidding on the hardwood floor, Zana letting out a huff of amusement. I half expect her to go after him again, but instead, she just leans back against the couch, her hand resting on my arm like she’s keeping me tethered to reality.

“He’s a menace,” Zana mutters, but there’s no heat in her words. She’s grinning, the kind of smile that softens her usually sharp edges. “Bet you anything he’s about to bring back half a grocery store.”

Sure enough, it starts. Ethan reappears a minute later, a plate in each hand, stacked high with scrambled eggs and what looks like every piece of bacon that ever existed. He sets them down on the coffee table, his curls bouncing as he straightens up, only to dart back into the kitchen.

“You weren’t kidding,” I muse, leaning back into the cushions. This is a far cry from Hailey. Ethan’s enthusiasm is contagious and even more so, the delight he has in being around me is a welcome change. “Does he always go this hard?”

Zana chuckles, shaking her head. “Always. It’s even worse during pre-heat—unstoppable. Best to just let him tire himself out.”

Ethan returns with more plates—pancakes, toast, and an assortment of pastries that could rival a bakery display. He hums under his breath, oblivious to the way Zana and I are watching him like he’s some kind of phenomenon. Another trip yields a pitcher of juice and a pot of coffee, along with mugs and glasses that clink against the plates as he sets them down.

When the coffee table is finally, impossibly full, he steps back with his hands on his hips, beaming like he’s just solved world hunger. “Ta-da!”

Zana raises an eyebrow, her lips quirking. “Did you make all this?”

Ethan gasps, clutching his chest like she’s insulted his honor. “Absolutely not,” he says, his nose in the air. “I would never subject you tothat. You know I’m a disaster in the kitchen.”

I chuckle, the sound bubbling out of me before I can stop it. “You mean to tell me you didn’t whip all this up from scratch at five in the morning?Shocking.”

He narrows his eyes at me, but his grin betrays him. “You’ll eat it, though,” he says, wagging a finger. “You’ll eat every bite and you’llloveit.”

Zana snorts, pushing herself up to her feet. She grabs her shirt from where it was discarded last night and pulls it on, her muscles flexing in a way that’s almost distracting. Then she turns to me, her expression softening. “Let’s get you fully sitting up, yeah?”

I nod, thankful that either she or I dragged my shorts back up last night. As much as I loved fucking Zana and then locking meseveraltimes, sitting around eating breakfast naked is a touch too much, too fast. There’s also the small matter of the pain shooting through my side, telling me that I absolutely shouldnothave moved like that last night.

Zana’s careful as she slips an arm behind my shoulders and lifts me onto the cushions. Pain shoots through my ribs and I can’t help the wince that escapes. Ethan notices immediately, his brows knitting together as he leans forward. “Wouldn’t you be more comfortable in my nest? It’s warm and cozy, and it’s—”

“No.” The word comes out sharper than I mean it to and Ethan flinches, his eyes widening. I sigh, rubbing a hand over my face. “Sorry. I just... I’m not ready for that.”

Ethan nods quickly, but the disappointment in his eyes is impossible to miss. He sits back on his heels, his hands twisting together in his lap. “I get it,” he mumbles. “I just thought... never mind.”

Zana glances between us, her jaw tightening slightly. “It’s fine, Ethan,” she says gently. “Reid needs time. We’re not rushing anything.”

Time. That’s the thing, isn’t it? Time to adjust, time to believe that this—whateverthisis—might be real. But every time I start to let my guard down, every time I think maybe I can trust them, the specter of Jackson and Lyle rears its ugly head. Their voices are etched into my brain, reminders of what happens when I think I’m safe.

“You’re not going back,” Zana says suddenly, her voice cutting through my thoughts like a blade. Her hand tightens on my shoulder, her dark eyes locking with mine. “You hear me, Reid? You’re not going back to them.”

“I didn’t even say anything, Zana.” I want to believe her. God, I want to believe her. But I’ve been a pawn in this game for so long, it’s hard to imagine anything else. Her fierce expression doesn’t let up, though. “You don’t know them like I do,” I say quietly, my throat tightening. “They don’t let go.”

“They don’t get a choice,” Zana replies, her voice steel. “Not anymore.”

Ethan scoots closer, squeezing my hand in his much smaller one, the earnest look in his eyes telling me to trust them—to stop thinking so hard, to let myself enjoy what they’re offering.

The smell of bacon and eggs hits me again, teasing my stomach even though I swear I’m still too sore to eat. Ethan’s sitting on the floor, carefully piling a plate with what looks like a little bit of everything from his buffet spread. He’s humming under his breath, totally in his element and I swear he even gives the bacon a little pat of approval before he stands and moves toward me.

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