The Three Who Chose Me-Chapter 44: What’s Left Unsaid

Josie

My head was pounding.

A slow, throbbing ache that pulsed through my skull with every breath I took. The dull fluorescent light overhead didn’t help either. I wanted to keep my eyes closed, to slip back into the numb quiet of unconsciousness, but my chest felt tight—like something essential was missing.

Varen.

I didn’t even have to say it. The moment the thought formed, I felt him. His scent. His aura. Like sunlight cutting through the fog.

"Josie," he murmured, and his hand found mine.

That was all it took.

My fingers curled into his like they were made to. My body sagged into the thin mattress, every muscle unclenching at once. My eyes fluttered open, and the first thing I saw was his face—drawn, shadowed, but still so devastatingly familiar.

"You’re safe now," he said softly, brushing his thumb across my knuckles.

I wasn’t sure if it was the words or his voice, but I melted.

The pain in my head receded a little. My breathing slowed. The storm of fear and confusion quieted inside me because Varen was there. He always made me feel like the world couldn’t touch me when he was around.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement.

Thorne stood near the window, his arms crossed, jaw clenched. He wasn’t looking at me, not really. Just staring out into the garden like it would give him answers. Kiel hovered at the door, his posture stiff, eyes downcast.

But it was Varen’s presence that rooted me. Kept me from unraveling.

"You should rest," he whispered, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "We’re not going anywhere."

I tried to nod, but it hurt too much. I gave a weak blink instead.

And somehow, that was enough.

The room fell into silence, the kind that wrapped around you like a blanket. I let my eyes drift closed, grounding myself in the warmth of his hand and the low rumble of his voice as he murmured something I couldn’t quite hear.

Then... darkness again.

---

When I woke the second time, I wasn’t alone.

But it wasn’t Varen beside me anymore.

It was Marcy.

Her head was bent, shoulders shaking. Her fingers were clutched around the edge of my blanket like it was the only thing holding her together.

I blinked. My throat was dry. "Marcy?"

She jolted, lifting her head with wide, teary eyes. "You’re awake."

Her voice cracked. She scrubbed at her cheeks, but the tears kept coming.

"Why are you crying?" I asked softly, my own voice hoarse.

She sniffled. "Because I was so scared, Josie. When I heard what happened—I thought—I thought I was going to lose you."

I swallowed, the lump in my throat rising. "I didn’t think I’d make it either."

She let out a ragged breath, and I could see she was barely holding it together. I hated seeing her like that. Marcy was always the strong one. The one who teased me out of my moods and shoved me into cute outfits when I was too tired to care.

"I wanted to talk to you," I said quietly.

But before I could say another word, Marcy cut me off. As usual.

"I know what you’re going to say," she said quickly, waving a hand. "You want the boys to stop being so distant. You want to fix things. You want everyone to be one big happy mate-circle again."

I blinked. "No, Marcy—"

"Josie, listen," she interrupted, standing up and pacing now. "You’ve been through hell. You almost died. And now you’re right back to worrying about how they feel about you? What about you? What about how you feel?"

I stared at her, thrown off.

"You always come last," she continued, eyes wild. "Ever since you found out they were your mates, you’ve been putting them before yourself. Every damn time. And for what? For them to act like you’re some fragile glass doll they don’t know what to do with?"

I tried to sit up more, but the pain in my side stopped me.

"Marcy..."

"No," she snapped. "You need to focus on you. Just once. Don’t you think you deserve that?"

My head spun. "You’re not listening to me."

"I am!" she said, throwing her hands up. "You just don’t want to hear the truth."

"Enough!" I rasped.

She froze.

"I know you’re trying to protect me. I know you care. But I don’t need you shouting at me right now, okay?"

Her face twisted like she was trying to hold something back. "I’m sorry," she mumbled. "It’s just—I was so scared, Josie."

I exhaled slowly. "I’m scared too."

Her eyes snapped to mine.

"I keep thinking... what if it happens again? What if I’m alone next time? What if someone tries to hurt me again and I’m not strong enough to stop it?"

Marcy let out a breath and rolled her eyes, trying to lighten the mood. "That’s been handled."

I frowned. "What?"

She blinked. "I mean—uh—it’s taken care of."

"What is?" I pushed.

Marcy suddenly looked like she’d swallowed a rock. "Nothing. I mean... I just meant that you’re safe now."

"No, you said it’s been handled. What did you mean?"

Her lips parted like she wanted to take it back. "Forget it. It’s nothing."

"Marcy."

She gave a nervous laugh. "Really, it’s not—"

"Stop lying to me!"

I hadn’t meant to shout.

But the frustration, the confusion, the pain—it all crashed into me at once.

Marcy’s face fell.

"I’m not lying," she said weakly.

"Yes, you are," I said, staring straight at her. "You know something. You’re hiding something from me."

She looked away. "I’m not."

I didn’t believe her. I could see it in her eyes, in the way her fingers twisted the hem of her shirt.

But I didn’t have the strength to push.

Not now.

So I leaned back, the ache in my head pulsing again, and closed my eyes for a second.

She tried to say something else, but I held up a hand.

And then I said it.

The truth I’d been choking on since the moment I woke up.

"Michelle attacked me."

Marcy’s breath caught. I didn’t look at her.

I just let the words hang in the air like smoke.

And for the first time since I opened my eyes, I felt a shift.

Something real.

Something that couldn’t be taken back.

Not now. Not ever.

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