She tilted her head, her gaze searching. “Good thinking?”
“Of course.” I offered a smile that felt steadier than I actually was.
Before Selene could press, the sound of small feet pattering overhead pulled both of our gazes toward the stairs. A second later, Winnie appeared, clutching a plastic container filled with barrettes and her hairbrush.
Her grin was wide and conspiratorial. “Austin! You didn’t leave yet!”
“You were right.” Selene’s lips twitched. “Shehasbeen plotting.”
“I’m terrified.” I chuckled as Winnie marched straight into the kitchen like a tiny commander with her finger pointed in my direction.
“I need your head,” she declared solemnly, holding her hand out to me.
Selene choked on a laugh, covering her mouth with her hand.
“My head?” I repeated, brows raised.
“For practice.” Winnie held up her brush. “I’m learning High Fae hair design. My friends say I’m getting good.”
Selene leaned her hip against the counter, mug in hand now that the coffee had finished brewing, her expression soft and warm.
“Looks like you’re booked for the morning,” Selene teased, sipping her coffee.
“Booked?” I mock grumbled, holding Winnie’s hand and allowing her to guide me to a chair. She climbed onto the table behind me.
I looked over my shoulder. “I better get a five-star review for this.”
Winnie giggled as she set to work, tugging gently on my hair. “Hold still! You’re too squirmy.”
I shot Selene a look. “Your kid’s a tyrant.”
“She gets it from her mom,” Selene said, smiling into her mug. “Besides, you love it.”
Winnie clipped barrettes into my hair as she babbled about the new drama unfolding in her make-believe fairy kingdom. Selene’s eyes lingered on me longer than I expected, something unreadable flickering there.
And hell, Ididlove it.
I loved the way this felt—easy and domestic, like I’d always been part of their mornings. Like I wasn’t just a guy Selene had let into her bed, but a man trusted with small, tender pieces of her life.
This feels so damn good. Easy. Right.
But even as Winnie anchored a clip into place with her tiny fingers and Selene’s quiet laughter washed over me, I felt the flicker of unease in my gut.
The memory came unbidden, sharp as glass.
I couldn’t have been much older than Winnie—maybe six or seven—when it happened. Mom had taken me to the park for the afternoon, her smile tight as she trailed me from bench to bench, pretending she didn’t notice the way I kept craning my neck toward the walking path.
And then I saw him.
My dad.
He wasn’t alone. A woman held his arm, laughing at something he’d said. A boy trailed beside them, years older than me and looking like the coolest kid I ever remembered seeing—Brody. My half brother.
My chest had tightened, but I raised my hand anyway, a reflex more than anything.
“Dad!” I called out, loud enough for it to carry.
His head jerked up. For the briefest moment our eyes locked. Recognition flickered—quick and almost reluctant.
