(MAYA)
The long oak table is covered in food. Roasted meats, platters of vegetables, baskets of warm bread, bowls of steaming soup. It smells like heaven, rich and buttery and so comforting that my knees nearly buckle.
"Come. Sit. Eat." I catch Erik looking at his older brother, the corner of his mouth tensing, and I wonder if it's because of how thin Griffin looks.
Griffin's hand, warm and steady, finds the small of my back and nudges me gently forward. I let him guide me, too dazed by the sheer amount of food to speak.
We sit near the center of the table. Before I can even reach for a spoon, Griffin plucks one up and starts serving me. "Griffin—" I protest weakly as he heaps a thick slice of roast onto my plate, then piles potatoes next to it like he's been appointed my personal caretaker.
"You're too thin," he mutters, not looking at me.
