Gather The Ashes || Stilinski || Book Three

Forty

Stiles's face softened. "Oh, Mal, I'm sorry. Are you okay?"

"I'll, uh, I'll be fine," she said, glancing at Sierra. "I just wanted to tell you that because I think...I think that the memory triggered doesn't necessarily have to be about the Dread Doctors. It could be about anything."

Stiles offered her a small smile. "I guess we'll just wait till tomorrow then to find out. Are you sure you're okay? You know you can talk to me--and Sierra for that matter."

"No, I know," Malia replied with a nod, "but it's already late so, I'll, um, I'll just go home."

She turned on her heel and left the room abruptly, not giving Stiles a chance to get her to stay. "Mal," he tried, but she was already gone. Stiles sighed deeply, and rubbed his temples as he thought the conversation over.

Malia had already been acting distant, and though Stiles didn't know what he said wrong, he feared he made the situation worse.

"Stop thinking."

A soft voice grumbled from the bed.

Stiles turned his head to see Sierra waking up slowly, a yawn falling from her lips. "Hey, string bean," he greeted gently, moving closer to her side. He brushed a loose strand from her face and smiled. "Did you hear everything?"

"Everything from when she mentioned Theo," she answered and he winced.

"So basically everything then."

"Yeah," she breathed, resting her head against the pillow. "I know you're worried about her, Stiles. I am too. But she made a really good point."

Stiles looked at her, confused. "What point?"

"It's really late," Sierra stated and shifted to the right side of her bed so he could lay beside her. "Come on, you need sleep just as much as I do."

Stiles didn't bother arguing, and stood up from the chair. His muscles ached as he stretched his arms over his head and flicked off the lamp. Then, he accepted Sierra's invitation and climbed underneath the blankets.

Sierra opened her arms and he cuddled closer to her without hesitation. A content sigh escaped him as she pressed a kiss to his head and started to run her fingers through his hair.

"Stiles?"

"Yes?"

"I need you to promise me something," she said seriously, her gaze locked on the ceiling.

Stiles furrowed his brows from her tone. "Promise you what?"

"I need you to promise me," Sierra took a breath, almost afraid to continue. "I need you to promise me that you're going to tell him. That's you're going to tell Scott about Donovan."

Stiles tensed, and Sierra noticed. But she went on, "I know you think that he is going to be mad and won't forgive you, but you're underestimating just how much he cares about you. And I can't help but have this feeling...like something bad is going to happen because of the Dread Doctors. And if I'm right, the last thing we need is for all of us to break apart."

"I know," Stiles whispered, releasing a heavy sigh. He knew Sierra was right; she was always right when it came to situations like this.

"So can you promise me?" Sierra asked, her voice quiet. "Please."

The potential reaction from their best friend rattled Stiles with fear. He didn't want to lose Scott. And he didn't want to lose Sierra. He didn't want to get left behind.

Like his girlfriend, he felt things shifting—even in the most subtle of ways. Malia was just one example. And if things were changing, for better or worse, they needed to stick together.