Page 38 of Rescue Me

He plops down beside me on the couch, the plate balanced in one hand and a fork in the other. His eyes are bright, full of something I don’t know how to describe. Happiness? Excitement? It’s like he’s glowing, like all of this—the food, the chaos, me sitting here like a broken doll—is exactly what he’s been waiting for.

“Here,” he says, holding up a forkful of eggs. “Open up.”

I blink at him, trying to process what’s happening. “What?”

“Open up,” he repeats, his voice as light as the smile on his face. “You need to eat and I’m going to help.”

I laugh, more out of confusion than anything. “I can feed myself, you know.”

He shakes his head, his curls bouncing. “Nope. This is for me. It’ll bring me joy, Reid. Let me serve my Beta.”

My brain screeches to a halt. Serve his Beta? Did I hear that right? “Wait,” I say, staring at him. “You... want to serve me?”

Ethan tilts his head, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Of course. You’re mine, aren’t you?”

I don’t know what to say, how to process this. I’ve never had anyone put me first. Not like this. Not with such ease, like it’s second nature. Hailey made sure I knew exactly where I stood—beneath her, always beneath her—and yet here’s Ethan, acting like this is the most normal thing in the world.

“Ethan...” My voice is rough, choked. I clear my throat and shake my head, trying to push the lump down. “You don’t have to do this.”

“I want to,” he insists. Ethan giggles—actually giggles—and pops the fork into my mouth. The eggs are warm, buttery, and somehow exactly what I need. I chew slowly, watching as his face lights up like I’ve just given him a gift instead of the other way around.

“This is ridiculous,” I say once I’ve swallowed, but there’s no heat in my words. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You love it,” he shoots back, already loading the next bite onto the fork.

I’m about to argue, but the truth is... maybe I do. Maybe, for the first time in years, I feel like someone actually sees me. Like I’m not just a tool, not just a thing to be used and discarded. It’s overwhelming, this attention, this care, but it’s not unwelcome. It’s... nice. Strange, but nice.

Zana joins us a moment later, a plate of her own balanced in one hand. She settles on my other side, the couch dipping slightly under her weight.

“Look at you,” she says, teasing as she reaches over to run her fingers through my hair. “Letting my Omega dote on you like a prince.”

I groan, but it’s half-hearted at best. “Don’t start.”

She laughs, her fingers moving gently, soothingly, through the tangles in my hair. “You’re not fooling anyone, Reid. You’re enjoying this.”

I hate that she’s right. I hate how much I’m enjoying it, how much I’m leaning into this attention, this care. It feels too good, too perfect, like it’s not meant for someone like me. But here they are—Ethan, humming softly as he feeds me another bite, and Zana, her touch steady and grounding, her presence a constant shield against the shadows that still linger in the corners of my mind.

Chapter twenty-four

REID

The smell of coffee and bacon lingers in the kitchen, mixing with the faint citrus and honey scent that Zana leaves behind. She’s freshly showered, her dark hair pulled into a tight bun, the sharp lines of her forest green pantsuit making her look every bit the fierce Alpha she is. She presses a kiss to my temple before grabbing her keys from the counter.

“You don’t have to do anything today. Relax. Take it easy. You’re still healing.”

I offer her a wry smile, leaning back against the counter. “Relaxing isn’t exactly my specialty, Zana.”

She straightens, one eyebrow arching as she smirks. “Yeah, I noticed. Try anyway. And don’t let Ethan spoil you too much. He’ll have you in his nest by lunchtime if you’re not careful.”

That earns a snort from me, and she grins, leaning in for one last kiss before heading out the door. The moment it clicks shut behind her, the house feels quieter, heavier. Ethan’s off in his own little world somewhere, probably re-fluffing pillows or reorganizing the linen closet for the fifth time this morning, leaving me alone in the kitchen.

I glance around, my hands itching for something to do. The dishes from breakfast are still scattered across the counter, and without thinking, I start stacking plates and scrubbing pans. It’s muscle memory at this point—cleaning, organizing, keeping busy so I don’t have to think too hard about everything else.

No matter how hard I scrub the counter, my thoughts keep creeping back, like they’re on a mission to ruin my day. Hailey’s texts have been relentless, buzzing every few minutes. Every single one of them is some variation of the same tune.

Where are you?, You’re contracted to be my pack Beta., That Alpha that took you away is just going to bring you right back.

Yeah, because threatening me always worked so well in the past.

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