Chapter 37 CHAPTER 37

Chapter 37 CHAPTER 37
Vivienne's POV
The cab ride home was quiet. Emma tried to make conversation a few times, asking if I was okay, if I needed anything, but I couldn't really form coherent responses. My brain felt like it was running on fumes.

When we pulled up to the Steele house, Mr. Cole was already at the door. He must have heard the car.

"Miss Emma, Miss Vivienne," he greeted us with that formal but warm tone he always had. "Welcome home."

"Thanks, Mr. Cole," Emma said, linking her arm through mine as we walked inside.

The house felt different now. Safer, somehow. Like the walls themselves were protecting me from everything outside.

"Come on," Emma said gently, guiding me toward the stairs. "Let's get you upstairs."

We made our way to the guest room—my room, I guess, for now. Emma flopped onto the bed while I grabbed some clean clothes from the dresser.

"I'm gonna take a shower," I said quietly.

"Take your time. I'll be right here."

I nodded and slipped into the bathroom, closing the door behind me.

The moment I was alone, everything from today hit me all over again.

I turned on the water, letting it heat up while I peeled off my clothes. My hands were shaking. Everything felt heavy—my body, my thoughts, all of it.

I stepped under the spray and let the hot water pour over me.

Uncle Martin had been at the school. He'd walked into Principal Morrison's office like he had every right to be there, like he was the victim in all of this. And for a few horrible seconds, I'd thought it was over. That he'd find a way to make me go back with him.

But Rafael had shown up.

I closed my eyes, letting the water run over my face.

Rafael had sat in that office and admitted everything. He'd told Principal Morrison exactly what he'd done—breaking down the door, pulling Uncle Martin off me, putting him in the hospital. He'd confessed to all of it without hesitation.

And when the principal asked if he understood the consequences, Rafael had just said he didn't care.

"Vivienne's life is worth more than a hockey scholarship or a clean record or any of it."

My chest tightened at the memory.

He'd meant it. I could see it in his eyes, hear it in his voice. He would've thrown everything away—his future, his scholarship, all of it—just to keep me safe.

I grabbed the shampoo, working it through my hair mechanically.

No one had ever done anything like that for me before. No one had ever put me first after my parents had died. Not my relatives, Not Uncle Martin. No one. 

But Rafael had.

And earlier, when I'd been crying about him potentially losing everything because of me, he'd looked at me with those intense blue eyes and told me I was more important. That school didn't matter to him. That none of it mattered compared to me.

The way he'd said it—so certain, so absolute—like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

I rinsed the shampoo out, my thoughts spinning.

I was falling for him.

The realization hit me like a physical thing, making my breath catch.

I was falling for Rafael Steele.

Maybe I'd been falling for him since that first night, when he'd broken down the door and pulled Uncle Martin off me. When he'd looked at me with those red glowing eyes and I should have been terrified but somehow wasn't.

Or maybe it had been building slowly—every time he checked on me, every gentle touch, every moment he made me feel like I mattered.

I didn't know when it started. I just knew it was happening.

And it was terrifying.

Because Rafael wasn't just some guy from school. He was a werewolf. A high ranking one from the looks of it. He had this whole supernatural life that I barely understood, with rules and traditions and dangers I couldn't even begin to comprehend.

And I was just... me.

A broken human girl with no family, no money, no future. A girl who'd spent the last three years being told she was worthless, that she was a burden, that no one would ever want her.

What could I possibly offer someone like Rafael?

I turned off the water and stood there for a moment, dripping, trying to get my thoughts under control.

This was stupid. I was being stupid.

Rafael had saved me because that's who he was—someone who protected people. It didn't mean he had feelings for me. It didn't mean anything except that he was a good person.

And even if he did have feelings—which he probably didn't—it wouldn't work. How could it? I was human. He was a werewolf. Those were two completely different worlds.

Plus, I had enough problems without adding complicated feelings into the mix.

Uncle Martin was still out there. CPS was getting involved. I was living in someone else's house, dependent on their generosity. I needed to focus on surviving, on getting through this, not on developing a crush on my best friend's brother.

I grabbed a towel and dried off, trying to push the thoughts away.

But they kept coming back.

The way Rafael had looked at me today. The way he'd held my hand in Principal Morrison's office. The way he'd promised he'd do it all again if he had to.

I pulled on clean clothes—soft sweatpants and an oversized hoodie that Emma had lent me—and took a deep breath.

I needed to get it together. Needed to stop being so dependent on the Steeles' kindness. They'd already done so much for me—too much. I couldn't just keep taking and taking without giving anything back.

I had to figure out how to contribute somehow. To be useful instead of just a charity case living in their guest room.

Maybe I could help with chores around the house. Or find a part-time job once things settled down. Something—anything—to show that I wasn't just a burden.

Because I refused to be that again. Refused to be someone who existed only because other people were kind enough to tolerate them.

I was going to prove I was worth keeping around. Even if I didn't fully believe it yet.

I opened the bathroom door, steam following me out.

Emma was still on the bed, scrolling through her phone. She looked up when I emerged.

"Feel better?" she asked.

"A little." I sat down next to her, toweling my damp hair. "Thanks. For everything today. For being there."

"You don't have to thank me, Vivi. That's what friends do." She bumped her shoulder against mine. "Besides, you're stuck with me now. Hope you realize that."

Despite everything, I smiled. "I can live with that."

"Good." Emma grinned. "Now that that's settled—"

"Emma," I interrupted, my hands twisting the towel nervously. "I need to talk to you about something."

Her smile faded slightly, replaced by concern. "Okay. What's up?"

"I can't just... stay here and do nothing." The words came out in a rush. "I can't be a freeloader. I need to contribute somehow. Help around the house, or get a job, or something. I can't just take and take without giving anything back."

Emma's expression shifted to something between exasperated and sympathetic. "Vivi, we've already talked about this—"

"I know we have, but I'm serious." I set the towel down, meeting her eyes. "Your family has done so much for me already. The clothes, the food, letting me stay here—it's too much. I need to do something to earn my keep."

"You don't need to earn anything—"

"Yes, I do." My voice came out firmer than I expected. "I can't just live off your family's generosity forever. It's not right. And I—I need to feel like I'm doing something. Like I'm not just... dead weight."

Emma sighed, running a hand through her hair. "You're not dead weight. Nobody thinks that."

"But I feel like it." My hands clenched into fists in my lap. "Please. I know you're trying to help, and I appreciate it more than you know. But I need this. I need to feel like I'm contributing something."

"Vivi—"

"Even if it's just doing the dishes or laundry or helping Mr. Cole with grocery shopping. Something. Anything."

Emma looked at me for a long moment, clearly torn between arguing and understanding where I was coming from.

"You're really not going to let this go, are you?" she said finally.

"No."

She let out a long breath. "You're stubborn, you know that?"

"I've been told that before."

"Fine." Emma held up her hands in surrender. "When my parents get back from their trip, we'll all sit down and talk about this properly. Figure out what works for everyone. Okay?"

Relief flooded through me. "Okay. Thank you."

"But," she added, pointing at me, "you have to promise me you won't stress yourself out about this in the meantime. You've been through enough without adding more pressure."

"I promise." It was a lie, but a small one.

Emma didn't look convinced, but she nodded anyway. "Alright. Deal."

"When are they coming back?" I asked. "Your parents?"

"Should be sometime tomorrow," Emma said, checking her phone. "They're wrapping things up today, so—"

A knock on the door interrupted her.

"Come in," Emma called.

The door opened, and Mr. Cole stepped inside with that perfectly polite expression he always wore.

"Miss Emma, Miss Vivienne," he said with a slight nod. "I wanted to inform you that Mr. and Mrs. Steele have just arrived. They're currently coming through the front entrance."

My stomach dropped.

"Wait, what?" Emma sat up straighter. "They're here? Now? I thought they weren't coming back until tomorrow."

"It appears they've returned early," Mr. Cole said. "I just saw their car pull into the driveway."

Emma glanced at me, and I could see my own panic reflected in her face.

"Okay," Emma said, standing up quickly. "Thanks, Mr. Cole. We'll—uh—we'll be down in a second."

"Very good, Miss Emma." Mr. Cole gave another small nod and left, closing the door behind him.

The moment he was gone, my heart started racing.

"They're here," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "Your parents are here."

"Yeah." Emma ran a hand through her hair, looking slightly frazzled herself. "Okay. This is fine. This is good, actually. We can get everything sorted out sooner."

"What if—" I swallowed hard. "What if they're mad? What if they think I'm causing too much trouble for your family?"

"They're not going to think that," Emma said, but she sounded less certain now. "They probably just heard what happened at school and wanted to come back early to make sure you're okay."

"Or to decide if they still want me here."

"Vivi—"

"I'm serious, Emma." My hands were shaking. "What if they changed their minds? What if they don't want some random girl with a psycho uncle living in their house?"

Emma grabbed both my hands. "Listen to me. My parents are good people. They're not going to kick you out. They're probably just worried about you."

I wanted to believe her. But the fear was still there, coiling in my chest.

"Come on," Emma said gently, pulling me toward the door. "Let's go down. Better to get this over with than sit up here freaking out."

She was right. I knew she was right.

But my legs still felt like jelly as we left the room and headed for the stairs.