Chapter 291 Book 2 ~ Chapter 56

Chapter 291 Book 2 ~ Chapter 56
Poppy’s POV

Leo sets a glass down in front of me far more carefully than necessary. He’s slow, deliberate, as if he’s half expecting it to explode the second it leaves his hand. My eyes flick to Jake across the kitchen, only to catch him watching me too.

The rest of the day passes in a strange sort of blur. Not peaceful exactly, just careful. Like everyone is moving around me with one eye on the nearest breakable object and the other on my face, waiting for me to either explode or start speaking in creepy riddles. Which is a bit rude, but probably necessary.

I want to see Paige, to sit in front of her and tell her everything I saw. If anyone can look me in the eye and tell me none of that happened, it’s her. But I can’t. Not until we figure out what the hell is happening between us, because whatever this is, it feels too big and too dangerous to say over a shaky phone call. And a huge part of me is terrified she’ll look at me after hearing all of this and realise I was there, and the reason our parents died. That whatever was inside me back then caused the crash.

A cold tingling spreads through my entire body, and I screw my eyes shut before the thought fully settles in. I absolutely can not deal with that. It is nowhere near my current emotional capacity to unpack right now.

The voice stays silent, which should make me feel better, but it doesn’t. If anything, the silence feels deliberate now. Like it knows it revealed too much and has retreated somewhere deep inside me to sulk… or plan. I don’t know which option is worse.

Jake refuses to let me out of his sight for the rest of the evening. He doesn’t say it, but it’s obvious. He brushes it off as just monitoring my condition. It’s funny how a doctor can make obsessive hovering sound professional.

Leo doesn’t even bother pretending. He just follows me everywhere. Kitchen. Bathroom door. Sofa. Back to the kitchen when I decide I’m starving, even though my stomach feels like a washing machine stuck on a spin cycle.

“You know I can still pee by myself, right?” I ask him at one point.

Leo leans against the hallway wall with his arms folded, expression completely unbothered. “Congratulations.”

I stare at him, and he stares back, unflinching.

“I’m not watching,” he adds.

“That is not the reassurance you think it is.”

His mouth twitches into a smirk, and despite everything, I laugh. For a second, the weight in my chest eases. Jake looks over from where he’s pretending not to listen, and the softness in his expression nearly undoes me all over again.

I look away first. Because apparently surviving a power outburst, a memory of my dead parents, and a possible childhood haunting is easier than letting my mates look at me like they’re relieved I’m still capable of laughing.

By the time night comes, none of us really talk about sleeping arrangements; we just end up in bed together. Leo is behind me, and Jake is in front. A living wall on either side, holding me in the middle as if they can keep the whole world out if they press close enough, and maybe they can.

Because for the first time since the memory hit, my mind goes quiet. At some point in the night, I wake with my heart racing and my hands gripping the sheets. I don’t remember the dream, only rain on glass and the feeling of being too small to stop something terrible from happening.

Jake and Leo wake up instantly, but neither of them asks if I’m okay, which is good because I’m sick of lying. Jake’s hand slides over mine. Leo’s arm tightens around my waist, and just like that, the panic fades.

I don’t need reassuring words or grand declarations. I just need them: solid, warm, and real. I fall back asleep before I can think too hard about how quickly they’ve become such a vital part of me.

The next morning arrives grey and wet; it’s the kind of miserable weather that makes the whole world look like it’s in mourning. Rain taps softly against the windows, throwing me straight back into a memory I’m trying to forget.

Rain… Headlights… Control it, Poppy. I push the thought down hard.

Leo is already dressed by the time I sit up, pulling on his boots near the edge of the bed. His hair is damp from a shower, and his expression is locked into the serious mask he wears when he’s pretending not to be worried. It does not suit him; he’s much better when he’s being annoying.

“You’re leaving?” I ask, my voice still rough with sleep.

His eyes lift to mine immediately. “Patrol.”

The word hits me harder than it should. Of course he has to go. He has duties, responsibilities, and a pack that doesn’t revolve around me. That doesn’t stop my insides from trembling and every worst - case scenario running through my mind.

Jake obviously notices my internal panic; his hand quickly covering mine from where he lies beside me.

“I’ll take her to the clinic with me,” he says before I can say anything. “Ronnie’s meeting us there.”

Leo nods, but he doesn’t look happy about it.

“Mind link me if anything feels off,” he says, eyes fixed on Jake before shifting to me. “Anything.”

I force a smile. “You sound paranoid.”

“I am paranoid.”

Well. At least he’s honest.

He crosses the room, crouches in front of me, and presses a kiss to my forehead. It’s quick and gentle, nothing like his usual kiss that steals my breath and common sense. Then he tips my chin up with two fingers.

“No pretending you’re fine today,” he says, voice low.

I blink innocently. “I would never.”

Jake snorts and Leo’s mouth curves slightly, but the concern doesn’t leave his eyes. “I mean it, Poppy. If you feel anything off, you tell Jake immediately.”

“I know,” I whisper.

His thumb brushes along my jaw once, then he stands before I can do something embarrassing like cling to him. The second he leaves, the room feels colder, and I hate that.

Jake is quiet for a moment after the front door closes downstairs. Then he looks at me. “Ready to get up?”

“No.”

He holds out his hand anyway, and I take it.

The clinic is too quiet when we arrive. Usually, there’s someone waiting. Someone with an injury, a fever, a limp, or a child who has decided that swallowing something weird is a fun activity.

Today, there’s no one. Just the hum of lights and the faint sterile scent of disinfectant.

Jake guides me into his office with one hand resting lightly on my back. He keeps touching me like that now, always making sure we have small points of contact. 

Ronnie is already waiting when we get there, sitting at Jake’s desk with a folder open in front of him and a frown on his face. That alone makes my head spin.

“Good morning,” he says gently.

“Is it?” I mutter.

His mouth twitches. “That’s still to be decided.”

Jake pulls out the chair beside him, but I don’t sit straight away. My eyes lock onto the folder.

“Are those the blood results?”

Jake’s expression shifts into his serious doctor face. I immediately hate the doctor face.

“Yes,” he nods.

I finally sit, mostly because my knees feel like they’ve been replaced by jelly. Ronnie turns one of the pages around slowly. Most of it means absolutely nothing to me, because these are not any kind of tests I’ve seen before. There are little flagged sections by my name that make my pulse creep higher even though I don’t know what they mean.

Jake sits on the edge of the desk beside me, close enough that his leg brushes mine.

“There are similarities to Paige’s results,” Ronnie says carefully.

The tension in my shoulders eases slightly. Light, dawn, Goddess-level weirdness. If I’m like Paige, then they know what this is. But then Ronnie’s eyes soften, which immediately tells me I am not going to like the next sentence.

“But you’re not the same,” he says.