As much as she hated the work, she opted into it. That was the big, underlined difference between the Crowleys and her father’s pride or Jasper’s consortium. She wasn’t ordered or expected to clear away the dishes or scrub everything till it shined. Helping wasn’t compulsory.
Besides, she didn’t like leaving things unsaid. Even if that was all she seemed to do these days. She was—used to be—the type of person who needed an argument resolved before crawling into bed. An angry itch took hold in her stomach otherwise, and she turned over every word and inflection until sleep was impossible.
She’d never forgive herself for spouting off rotten words and leaving Hailey to deal with the mess.
“I’m sorry I caused you and Trent to argue,” Sage murmured as she dropped the silverware back in a drawer. “I don’t actually believe this pride is as bad as others. I just…”
Just got carried away. Just let her mouth run away with her. Just didn’t trust anyone.
Hailey waved a hand to dismiss her concern. “Oh, please. If I don’t keep him on his toes, who will? Besides, I’m the mother of his cubs. I get some say in the safety of our pride.”
Sage winced. Bearing cubs hadn’t given her mother any special treatment. She’d died at her father’s hands the same as anyone else who caught him in his darkest moods.
Which was unfair to Trent and Hailey. Again.
“You know,” Hailey paused, fingers running along the edges of a bowl waiting indefinitely for some chips, “it was nice what you said. About still needing to get to our jobs and run errands and live our lives? I appreciate you looking out for us.”
She paused again, but her scent turned hesitant. That put Sage on edge as much as Trent turning his displeasure on her. Hailey spoke her mind. Sometimes to groans, sometimes at the danger of sparking an argument, always with love in her heart. There wasn’t any of the slyness she knew from her father’s pride. No threat of an imminent stab in the back. She just wanted the best for the people around her.
Her cubs were going to be so lucky to have her.
“Sage, what are you doing with yourself during the day?”
Sage blinked with surprise. “There’s nearly always someone home,” she said quietly, setting the plates back in a cabinet. “And I don’t mind being on my own when everyone is busy.”
“That’s not what I mean,” Hailey said with a frown. “Do you have anything that’s your own?”
Her own. Like her dancing, then later her time as an instructor. Like the happy mated pairs carving out their own futures.
She had a den that felt too big, a lioness who wouldn’t show herself, and no idea where she truly fit in the world. Even before, when her only problem was avoiding her father’s moods, she didn’t feel like she had anything she could really call her own.
“I…” she trailed off. Claws scratched at her insides, urging her to run, but she ignored her inner beast.
Hailey filled the silence with a kind smile. “I think it’s important, no matter how dire everything seems, to find something that makes you happy. We need to hold on to the things that bring us even a hint of joy.”
“I don’t even know what that looks like anymore,” Sage admitted in a small voice.
“That’s fine. There’s no rush so long as you aren’t letting yourself stay stuck.” Hailey jerked her chin toward the door. “Those people out there, they’ll do everything in their power to give you the space you need to figure it out.”
Like promising to stand with her.
Sage flashed Hailey a tight nod of understanding while her lioness paced through her head.
She was still deep in her thoughts when she let Hailey’s door close behind her. The Crowleys and Ashfords still hammered out details in the middle of the space between dens; she skirted around them with her eyes on her toes and went straight for her own space.
Trapped. She was trapped. It started as shock from her unlikely rescue from Jasper’s pride, which turned to hesitation and caution the longer she waited for the other shoe to drop. A part of her always suspected someone would try to drag her back to her personal hell. That same part kept her at arm’s length from the others. Instead, she reasoned, better to stay alone and unsettled than have anything she enjoyed ripped away again.
It wasn’t any way to live. It was survival at its very basic level. Eating, drinking, running on anxiety.
Pressure built under her skin. In her stomach. Around her heart. She wanted to breathe freely, but that was impossible when every inch of her wanted to bolt.
She had nothing of her own.
Sage peeked through the crack in the curtains. Still daylight, even though she already knew what her eyes needed to see. She longed for the darkness and walking off the restless energy coursing through her limbs. Not that she’d be allowed out on her own. Safety. Protection. Caution. Whatever word used kept her trapped in body and in spirit.
She scoffed and shot a glare toward her front door. She really shouldn’t be so hard on Trent and the others. Her back was up for reasons that had nothing to do with them.
She kicked her leg out to the side and rolled her ankle, then repeated the stretch on the other side. Her head was next, lolling around in a circle one way, then the other. Even her shoulders and back straightened under the familiar motions.
Skies above, how long had it been? Years since she had anyone correcting her posture and positions. She’d given up on her own, private practice not long after her father ordered the Levine pride females to stay within their territory. The movement had been too painful knowing what she’d been forced to give up.
Arms coming down to an oval at her waist,
