Page 79 of Citius

I would have lied to anyone else. Told them I was fine, all systems normal, nothing to worry about. That my control wasn’t unraveling before I’d even made it out the door.

“No,” I said, choking on the word as I tried to catch my breath. “But there’s too much to do.”

Not wanting to worry her further, I grabbed the gift bag and retreated to my wreck of a nest, untouched since my most recent detonation. Idropped everything but the business card on the nearest flat surface, stashing Wyatt’s thoughtful gesture in the darkest physical recess I possessed.

When I returned to the foyer, Kelsey sat on the bottom step with Kip in her lap.

We regarded each other for a tense moment, each waiting for the other to say something—probably the wrong thing—and upset the tenuous balance that my accident injected into every aspect of my life.

Kelsey defaulted to her characteristic tact. “Call me if you need anything.”

“Don’t I always?” I recapped the hibiscus tea and picked up my work bag, slipping my phone and Wyatt’s business card into the front pocket.

As the words hung in the air, I tried to convince myself that I hadn’t just said the brattiest, most ungrateful thing possible.

Kelsey looked down at Kip, stroking his back as he purred softly, exposing the bruise-like shadows beneath her eyes and the deepening lines around her mouth. Weariness weighed down her shoulders.

Pretending she’d been up late, packing orders and restocking inventory would be easy. But I knew better.

I’d done that to her.

All the stress and worry of keeping me properly medicated and in operational shape had eaten away at her day by day, year after year, for a thankless decade. Kelsey was exhausted—because I was an exhausting person to deal with.

She deserved so much better.

I’d stolen my sister’s youth, and I could never make it up to her. Ever.

“Thanks for putting up with me, Kels.” I bent to wrap an arm around her shoulders, pressing my cheek against her mussed blonde hair. “I’d be lost without you.”

Twenty-Three

Morgan

“Are you sure about having us stay with you? It’s not too late to book a hotel, and Audra might need help with the girls,” Papa said for the third time, prolonging our goodbyes. He ignored the gentle pressure of Mom’s hand rubbing his back, silently urging him to wrap up our video call. She could tell I was running out of steam.

“It’s fine, Papa.”

“Okay,” he said, his tone softening, “but only if you and Kelsey are both sure.”

Dad leaned forward, his deep brown hand reaching for the laptop keyboard. His larger frame dwarfed Mom and Papa, the springy salt-and-pepper curls of his natural hair dominating the screen. “I’m hanging up, Martijn.”

“Wait, Keon, we’re still talking,” Papa protested, his smaller, rounder hand batting at Dad’s much longer fingers. “Remember, honey, don’t get upset about those silly articles—”

“Night, squirt,” Pops called from the kitchen in the background. He was preparing Papa’s bedtime tea, though only a sliver of his dark brown hair and olive-toned skin was visible between the shoulders of the trio on the couch.

Papa plastered himself against Dad’s side, as harmless as a kitten, completely oblivious to Dad’s silent laughter. My fathers never tired of alternately irritating and indulging their precious tyrant.

“Keon! This is important.”

“Love you, Morgan. Sweet dreams,” Mom said, reaching between her mates with a deft hand to hit the disconnect button.

Silence settled over the living room for a few blessed moments, only to be interrupted by Kelsey’s giggles from the reading chair in the corner, where she was busy reconciling invoices.

“I wasn’t second-guessing your offer for them to stay with us for marathon weekend, but now…”

I laughed and angled to face her, careful not to disturb Tenny, who was sleeping on my ankle. “Like you haven’t already started stockpiling food.”

“That’s for the sibling pack invasion, not the parents.” She stacked her papers neatly and closed her laptop with a decisive snap. “I don’t mean to sound bossy, but could you go to bed now?”

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