Third-Person Limited – Kendra, then Dominic, then Kendra
By the third day in casts, Kendra had two new enemies:
ZippersGravity
Her wrists throbbed with a low, constant ache that flared every time she forgot and tried to use her hands like normal. The cast itched. Her shoulders ached from doing literally everything with her elbows.
She was tired of asking for help.
Tired of needing it.
That morning, Sofia had to thread her ponytail through the back of a baseball cap because every attempt at getting her hair up had ended in pain and curses.
"Hold still," Sofia said, tucking a stray curl under the brim.
"If one more person tells me to hold still, I'm biting somebody," Kendra muttered.
Sofia smirked. "You'd miss and chip your tooth."
"Worth it."
Downstairs, the girls fell into their usual morning chaos—looking for lost socks, complaining about tests, fighting over the last Pop-Tart.
"Arms?" Erica asked, coming up beside Kendra with her backpack.
"Attached," Kendra said. "Barely."
"We'll carry your stuff," Jennie said, her voice firm in that quiet way that shut down arguments before they started. "At least until we get to the front."
"I have a designated school mule," Kendra replied. "You don't have to fight him for the job."
"Gross way of saying it," Jeah said, "but fair."
School felt different with casts.
Not just because of the stares, though there were plenty of those. Some pitying. Some curious. Some calculating, like people were deciding whether accidentally injured foreign girl was worth befriending.
It was the way every hallway became a hazard.
A jostle from behind sent a jolt up her arm. A too-heavy door threatened to drag her forward. Her balance felt off when she couldn't swing her arms naturally.
By the time she made it through first period, she felt like she'd run a marathon.
Second period brought a new humiliation.
She needed the bathroom.
"Be right back," she told the teacher, heading down the hall.
The bathroom was mercifully empty. She shouldered the door open, shuffled into a stall, and stared at the metal latch.
It was small. Simple. Just a sliding bolt.
She tried to hook the edge with her cast and push it across.
Pain flared.
She hissed, teeth sinking into her lip.
She tried again, using the side of her arm instead of her hand.
It budged.
Barely.
Her fingers tingled in protest.
"Come on," she muttered. "You're losing to a door. This is sad."
She could leave it unlocked. People rarely barged in.
But the idea of someone swinging the door open while she was, you know, mid-situation, made her stomach knot.
She wasn't that desperate.
Yet.
She tried again.
The latch resisted.
Her wrists throbbed.
For the first time since the fall, something hot pricked the back of her eyes.
Absolutely not, she thought fiercely. She was not going to cry in a bathroom stall over a piece of hardware.
"Need help?"
The voice came from the other side of the door.
Deep.
Annoyingly familiar.
Kendra froze.
"Go away," she snapped.
"Kendra, it's me," Dominic said. "Doors cracked open. I can see your foot."
"Then un-see it," she growled.
There was a pause.
"I'm not going to open it," he said. "I just… heard you fighting the latch. I can slide it from this side. You keep your foot there, so no one pushes it in. Deal?"
She wanted to tell him to choke.
Instead, she stared at the stupid latch, flexed her fingers inside the cast, and weighed her pride against the possibility of the door flying open at the worst possible moment.
"Fine," she bit out. "Do it. And if you open this door more than an inch, I swear to God, I'll find a way to haunt you alive."
"Got it," he said.
The metal scrapped.
The latch slid smoothly into place.
There was a soft knock against the door—his knuckles, maybe. "Locked," he said. "You're good."
"Congratulations," she said. "You beat the boss battle I couldn't. Feel proud."
"Just keeping my debt list updated," he replied. "I'll wait out here."
"I don't need a babysitter outside the bathroom," she snapped.
"I'm not leaving you alone with the door," he said simply.
"Are you serious right now?"
"Yes."
She cursed in patois under her breath and decided she didn't have the energy to argue with a door guard.
A couple minutes later, she nudged the latch with her elbow. It was stuck.
Of course it did.
Before she could start round two with the stupid metal, his voice came again.
"Step back."
"What?"
"Move back from the door," he repeated. "I'll crack it."
"This is the worst thing that's ever happened to me," she muttered, but she shuffled back anyway.
The latch clicked, the door opened just enough for her to squeeze out without touching it, his body blocking most of the gap.
He did not look inside.
He did not smirk.
He just stepped back as soon as she was through and nudged the door shut behind her.
"Happy now?" she asked.
"Not remotely," he said. "But you didn't injure yourself on a bathroom door, so I'll take the win."
She hated that it made the corner of her mouth twitch.
"Don't make a habit of this," she said. "I can handle doors."
"I know you can," he said.
His gaze flicked to her wrists, then back to her face.
"You shouldn't have to do it alone," he added quietly.
She pretended she didn't hear that last part.
Dominic
By midweek, Dominic had discovered three things:
Guilt was exhausting. The mate bond made guilt ten times worse. He was very, very bad at pretending he didn't care.
He felt her before he saw her most mornings now.
Not in a crazy, stalker "I can smell her from a mile away" way—though he technically could if he tried.
More like… a tug.
A quiet pull in his chest that said: She's here.
His wolf paced around in his head constantly.
Protect. Fix. Soften.
He was trying.
His dad had not let him forget that he needed to.
"How is she?" Theatus asked that evening at home, pouring himself a drink.
"Angry," Dominic said. "Tired. Stubborn."
"In other words, the same," his father said dryly.
"She can't do basic things," Dominic said, the words spilling out before he could dam them up. "Tying shoes. Zipping her jacket. Carrying her stuff. She almost lost a fight with a bathroom door today."
Theatus' expression flickered. "Did she?"
"No," Dominic said. "I… helped. Without dying. Or getting punched. So that's something."
His father studied him.
"This is what I meant," he said. "Strength is not about how hard you can hit, Dominic. It is measured by how gently you can carry what you have broken."
Dominic looked away.
"How far does your responsibility extend?" Theatus asked.
"School," Dominic said. "You assigned me to her here."
"And do her injuries cease to exist the second she steps off school property?" Theatus asked mildly.
"No," Dominic admitted.
"I received a message from the program coordinator," Theatus said. "The girls live a fifteen-minute drive from here. They manage well. But stairs, bathtubs, stairs at night… those are risks now."
He let that hang for a moment.
"I am not telling you to invade her home," he said. "But I am asking you: can you do more? Before school. After school. Subtly. Respecting her boundaries."
"She already hates needing me during the day," Dominic said. "If I show up outside of school, she'll probably set me on fire."
"Then find a way she can't easily refuse," his father said. "Talk to Sofia. To the coordinator. Ask what's needed. Offer quietly. Do not announce it. Do not make a show. This is not about being seen as a hero. It's about being useful."
The wolf in him calmed a fraction at that.
Useful.
He could do useful.
He left his father's office with a tight chest and a plan forming.
It turned out Jeah was much easier to talk to than Kendra.
He caught her after last period the next day while Kendra was in the bathroom again (hopefully not wrestling with the door this time).
"Jeah," he called.
She turned, her braid swinging. "Yeah?"
He jogged up to her, holding Kendra's bag.
"Got a second?" he asked.
She looked at him warily but waited.
"I spoke to my dad," he said. "About… all this."
Her gaze flicked to the bag, then back to him. "Okay."
"He asked how far my responsibility goes," Dominic said. "We agreed I handle everything at school. But he suggested I… check if you need anything after."
"At the house?" she clarified.
He nodded. "I'm not trying to barge in. I just… stairs, doors, carrying stuff, groceries. You're all new here too. He said if you were okay with it, I could help. Quietly. A few days a week. At least at first."
Jenna studied him for a long moment.
"She's not going to like that," she said honestly.
"I know," he said. "She doesn't like any of this. But she also can't open a juice bottle without help."
A reluctant smile tugged at Jeah lips. "Yeah," she said. "She swore at a jar of pasta sauce for five minutes yesterday."
He couldn't help it: he laughed.
"I'm not trying to… replace you or anything," he added quickly. "You're her… people. I just… owe her more than school hallways."
Jenna tilted her head.
"Program lady did say the principal offered to 'assign additional support,'" she said slowly. "Didn't realize he meant you."
"Lucky you," he said dryly.
"Lucky her," Jeah shot back. "Your guilty conscience is useful."
He winced. "I deserve that."
She sighed.
"Alright," she said. "You can come by. But we set rules."
"Rules are my specialty," he said.
"First," she said, ticking them off on her fingers, "no just showing up unannounced. Text me first. We'll set days. Maybe Tuesdays and Thursdays to start."
He nodded. "Done."
"Second," she continued, "you help with practical stuff. Bags. Doors. Maybe homework if she lets you. You do not suddenly try to be her best friend or therapist."
"I wouldn't dare," he said.
"Third," Jeah said, eyes sharpening, "if at any point she says stop—"
"I stop," he finished.
She held his gaze for another beat, then nodded once.
"I'll text you the address," she said. "But I'm warning you: if you hurt her again, I'm not above keying your car."
"Fair," he replied.
She smirked and walked away.
His phone buzzed thirty seconds later.
Unknown number: This is Jeah. Don't make me regret this.
After School – House Visit
Kendra didn't know about the agreement until he showed up at the house.
They'd just got home.
The girls spilled in first, dropping bags by the door. Kendra was last, maneuvering in carefully as Sofia held the door open with her foot.
"Watch that mat," Erica said. "You nearly tripped on it last week."
"Nearly tripping is just my brand now," Kendra said.
The house smelled like home—well, the closest thing to it. Someone had left a candle burning earlier, something with vanilla and spice. The living room was its usual mess of blankets, cups, and half-finished homework.
Kendra was halfway to the couch when someone knocked.
Three firm raps.
All the girls froze and looked at each other.
"We expecting anyone?" Jeah asked.
Sofia winced. "Right," she said. "I… forgot to mention something."
"Oh, that sounds promising," Kendra said. "Who is it? Immigration? Did they finally come to deport us for bad life choices?"
Sofia didn't answer.
She just went to the door and opened it.
Dominic stood on the porch.
In jeans, a hoodie, and a slightly uncomfortable expression.
Kendra's stomach dropped and flipped at the same time.
"You've got to be kidding me," she said.
"Hi," he said lamely.
What is he doing here?" Erica demanded, stepping immediately between him and Kendra.
"It's okay," Sofia said quickly, hands raised. "Kind of. Maybe."
Jeah folded her arms. "Explain 'kind of.'"
Sofia exhaled. "Principal Garrison talked to the program lady," she said. "They, uh… offered extra support while Kendra's in casts. I told him we could use help with carrying and stuff. At least for a bit."
"You told who?" Kendra asked, voice flat.
"Me," Dominic said. "Guilty party number one."
"Cancel it," Kendra said immediately. "Return to sender. Tell your dad thanks but no thanks. I don't need home delivery Garrison."
"You can barely open a drawer," Sofia said gently. "We spent twenty minutes getting your hoodie off last night."
"That was a team-building exercise," Kendra snapped.
"Kendra," Jennie said softly. She'd been quiet up to now, eyes flicking between them, taking it all in. "It's not about you needing him. It's about there being more hands to help so the rest of us don't stretch too thin."
Kendra opened her mouth.
Closed it.
Because that landed.
She hated it.
She looked at the couch, the kitchen, the stairs.
Every corner of the house was full of invisible little battles she was losing.
Jars.
Doors.
Shoelaces.
Shampoo bottles.
She swallowed hard.
Dominic stood there, awkward and still on the porch, hands half in his pockets like he wasn't sure if he was allowed to fully be inside their space yet.
"You're not coming in my room," Kendra said finally.
"I wasn't planning to," he replied.
"And I'm not saying please," she added.
"Didn't expect you to," he said.
"I still hate you," she said, heat climbing her neck.
He nodded once. "You're allowed."
Silence.
Then she sighed, long and annoyed.
"Fine," she muttered. "You can be… backup muscle. For a while. Trial basis."
Erica looked like she wanted to argue.
Jennie touched her arm. "We'll be here," she murmured. "We're not leaving her alone with him."
Erica subsided, glaring at Dominic like she wished death upon him but maybe not today.
Sofia stepped back, opening the door wider.
"Shoes off," she said briskly. "House rule."
Dominic toed off his sneakers obediently.
Stepping into their house felt… wrong and right all at once.
Wrong because he didn't belong here.
Right because every instinct in him screamed that he needed to be wherever she struggled.
"Living room," Sofia said. "We've got homework. And I am not writing three essays for this girl just because she can't hold a pen."
"I can type," Kendra protested.
"You type like you're in a fight," Jeah said. "Every key is a victim."
They migrated to the living room.
The coffee table was already covered in textbooks and notebooks. Kendra's open laptop sat in the middle, cursor blinking on a blank document.
She dropped onto the couch with a huff, arms sticking out like stiff wings.
"This is ridiculous," she muttered.
Dominic sank into an armchair across from her, perched on the edge. He looked out of place among the mismatched cushions and bright throws—like someone had dropped a wolf into a nest of parrots.
"Okay," Sofia said, clapping her hands once. "Here's the plan. We divide and conquer. Kendra dictates. Somebody types. Somebody looks up stuff. Somebody pretends to understand American government."
"I'll type," Dominic said automatically.
All eyes swung to him.
"You?" Erica asked skeptically.
"You got better handwriting?" he shot back.
Jennie half-raised her cast-free hand. "I can type some too," she offered. "We can switch off if it's a long assignment."
"Fine," Sofia said. "Tag-team typing. Let's start with English. What did Hayes assign you?"
"Compare the themes of identity and belonging in the story," Kendra said, grimacing. "Five paragraphs. Double-spaced. Blah blah blah."
"Identity and belonging," Dominic repeated, fingers already on the keys of her laptop. "Okay. Go."
Kendra narrowed her eyes at him. "You really gonna just… write my essay?"
"No," he said. "You're going to talk. I'm going to type what you say. You still do the work."
She huffed. "Bossy."
"Efficient," he corrected.
It was weird, at first.
She spoke in stops and starts, stopping to rephrase as she went. He tapped quickly, occasionally pausing to ask, "Comma there?" or "You want that as one sentence or two?"
The other girls chimed in with random suggestions.
"That line's good, keep it."
"Say 'struggle' instead of 'fight'; teachers love that."
"Don't write 'shit' in the essay, Kendra."
Slowly, the screen filled with her words.
Her ideas.
Her voice.
Except now they were neatly organized, spelled correctly, double-spaced.
"Read it back," she said when they hit the last paragraph.
He did.
Hearing her thoughts in someone else's voice was… strange. Good strange.
"That actually sounds… smart," she said when he finished.
"It is smart," he said. "You came up with it."
"Yeah, but you made it sound like I wasn't ranting," she said.
He almost smiled.
Sitting here, listening to her unpack literature and identity and belonging—foreign girl in a foreign place writing about characters who didn't quite fit in anywhere—did something uncomfortable to his chest.
She wasn't just loud. Or angry. Or the girl who had broken his friend's nose and ruined his girlfriend's outfit.
She was… sharp.
Funny.
Thoughtful.
Complex.
His wolf hummed with quiet satisfaction.
Mate.
"Okay," Sofia said, tearing into a bag of chips. "One essay down. Two more subjects to go before our brains give out."
They moved on to history.
Then science.
Somewhere in the middle of a debate about whether mitochondria being the powerhouse of the cell was relevant to their lives, Kendra yawned.
"Don't you dare fall asleep," Erica said. "We're not carrying you to bed."
"I'm not tired," Kendra lied, blinking heavily.
Dominic glanced at the clock.
They'd been at it for almost two hours.
"I should go soon," he said. "Before my dad starts tracking my phone."
"Alpha dad?" Erica muttered under her breath, then corrected herself. "I mean… Principal dad."
Kendra shifted on the couch, trying to get comfortable.
Her casts felt like anchors.
"You know," Sofia said, watching her try and fail to cross her arms, "once a week isn't going to cut it."
"What?" Kendra asked.
"This," Sofia said, gesturing between them. "Homework. Carrying stuff. The works. You're drowning already. We're all going to burn out if we don't split the load."
"And your solution is… more Garrison?" Kendra said.
"He types fast," Jeah offered. "And he didn't correct your grammar once. That's solid ally behavior."
"Yet," Kendra muttered.
Jennie smiled softly. "You have help now," she said. "You don't have to like where it comes from for it to be useful."
Kendra glanced at Dominic.
He was watching her, expression serious, fingers tapping idle patterns on his knee like they were still searching for keys.
She remembered the way he'd looked when she'd fallen—the panic that had torn through his face.
The guilt that seemed glued to him now.
She didn't forgive him.
Not yet.
Maybe not ever.
But right now, she could either drown in stubbornness… or tread water with help she hated needing.
"Two days a week," she said at last. "Tuesdays and Thursdays. That's it."
"Deal," Dominic said immediately.
Sofia nodded. "Works for me."
"So he's just… part of the group now?" Erica said. "We adopting a stray?"
"Temporary foster," Kendra said. "Once my arms work again, we put him back in the wild."
His lips twitched.
"I'll try not to trash the place while I'm here," he said.
"Good," she said. "Because if you break anything else—"
"You'll haunt me alive," he finished.
Their eyes met.
Something tugged in the air between them again.
Small.
Electric.
Unwanted.
She looked away first.
"Whatever," she said. "We've got homework. Less staring, more typing."
He bent over the laptop without arguing.
Later, after he left and the house quieted—girls drifting to showers and beds, lights flipping off one by one—Kendra lay stiffly on her back, arms in their plaster prisons, staring at the ceiling.
Today, Dominic had:
helped her with a bathroom door carried her bag gotten her lunch typed her essay not insulted her once
It was confusing.
Infuriating.
Disarming.
She didn't know what to do with a version of him that wasn't constantly attacking her.
So she did the only thing she could think of.
She filed it away under a new category:
Things I Don't Trust Yet.
Then, finally, she let herself sleep.
Down the street, in his own room, Dominic lay awake longer.
The mate bond hummed quietly, a low, constant buzz in his bones.
She was alive.
She was in pain.
He was helping.
It wasn't enough.
But for the first time since the fall, he felt like maybe—just maybe—he was walking in the right direction.
Even if she still hated him.
Even if she never knew why it mattered so much.
He rolled onto his side, stared at the wall, and made himself a promise.
If it took all six to eight weeks of her healing, if it took the rest of the year, if it took longer—
He'd keep showing up.
Carrying what he broke.
Until, someday, maybe she'd let him carry more than just her bag.