I shook my head. “I honestly don’t need it. I didn’t go off on you and then come sit up here, expecting you to come to me with your tail between your legs.”

“Well.” He looked down, the beginning of a playful grin tugging at his mouth. “It’s there.” He moved his hips from side to side. “I can let my hair grow longer, if you want, so there’d be a real tail.”

“No.” I laughed a little at that. “Ryan’s letting everyone have it down there?”

His hips stopped moving, and he nodded. “Yeah. I feel like a dumbass. Erin never told me any of that stuff. She just said that Ryan had changed since you came into the picture. I’m protective of him, and it isn’t just because of my cousin. If you hadn’t noticed, Ryan’s loved. By a lot of people.”

I was getting that.

I shook my head. “It’s fine. Don’t jump down my throat again, okay?” I laughed. “I think I’ve reached my quota of confrontations. There’ve been more the past few months than ever in all my life.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

I could imagine Willow standing next to me, her arms crossed over her chest as she rolled her eyes. Yeah, because that was my job. You’re stepping into my shoes, sis.

Kirk rubbed his hand over his face. “Look. I might be overstepping, but I get what you’re going through. I thought I was going crazy. After Derek died, I saw my cousin everywhere—or, I thought I did.”

I didn’t know what to say. “Did he go away?” I finally asked.

He didn’t reply at first. A second passed, and a hollow look entered his eyes. He was staring at me, but he wasn’t seeing me.

“Not really, no,” he replied softly.

Great. I should just go ahead and reserve my room in the mental hospital.

“But I don’t want him to.” He nodded to me. “You won’t either, if it’s the same for you.”

I sighed. “I’m sorry for going off on you.”

“I’m sorry for being the asshole you had to go off on. And for the record, I deserved it. You don’t have to apologize for anything.”

Willow grunted next to me. Damn straight.

Kirk motioned for the door, grabbing the doorknob again. “Ryan sent me up here to grovel and see if you wanted the spaghetti he promised. He’s heating some downstairs. Guess pizza got shot down.”

I thought of the forgotten one at my house. I hadn’t been hungry then, but my stomach rumbled. Spaghetti sounded good.

I motioned for the door. “Lead the way.”

He paused before opening the door. “We’re good, right? I can tell him we’re good? He won’t kick my ass then.”

“He said that?”

“His exact words were, ‘Get up there, apologize, and mean it, asswipe, or I’ll kick your ass.’”

That made me smile.

Ryan glanced my way when I returned with Kirk, a question in his eyes as to whether I was okay. I nodded and moved to sit in a chair behind the table. I was the new girl to this group. I’d fought for my place twice—and I would continue if needed—but as I observed everyone, I saw there was no more resistance. The only one unhappy with me was Erin, but everyone ignored her, including her friends. They seemed more eager to flirt with the guys, Kirk most of all.

When the food was heated, everyone got up and filled a plate before returning to the table. Someone pulled out drinks and passed them.

Ryan made sure everyone had food before grabbing his own plate.

He headed for the empty chair by Kirk, but before he could sit, the guys all moved down a spot, emptying the chair to my left. So Ryan took that one. Cora sat to my right, and no one paused their conversation as all of this happened.

I got it then.

All the resistance against me from the girls, from Peach, from Kirk—it was because they depended on Ryan. No one started eating until Ryan sat. And no one said a word about it. It was an unspoken rule. Once he touched his fork, so did everyone else.

Whether he knew it or not, Ryan was the core of this group. He was the glue.

A different emotion filled me. Warmth. It combatted that cold and almost-dead sensation, making me feel something I wasn’t sure I wanted to feel.

“You okay?” Ryan asked quietly.

I nodded. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

I felt proud of him, but I didn’t know why. He wasn’t my boyfriend. Yet, I’d laid claim to him somehow, and he’d reciprocated. I knew he’d had a choice, but in some ways, he hadn’t—I’d crawled into his bed that night and woven a spell over him, never letting him go. The sane part of my mind knew that wasn’t the case. He would’ve kicked me out, rejected me if he didn’t want anything to do with me, and he hadn’t.