A thought occurs to me, and I lean forward slightly. "How are you faring? Having your sister in the house, I mean. That's got to be an adjustment."
I remember Amelia vaguely from when we were kids, back before life got complicated and responsibilities piled up. She'd been this bright, cheerful thing, always laughing, moving around, constantly exploring new things. She couldn't have been more than fourteen or fifteen the last time I saw her, all gangly limbs and wide smiles. Dylan had been fiercely protective of her even then, the kind of big brother who made sure everyone knew she was off-limits.
Hunter had been the same way about Evie until Silas and I broke down his defenses and married her.
Dylan's expression shifts, a spark of pain flickering across his features before he schools them back to neutral. "A lot of things have changed since then," he says quietly, his hands wrapping around his coffee mug. "She's not the same person she used to be."
The way he says it immediately makes me worry. "What happened?"
"Her ex tried to break her." The words are blunt, delivered with barely controlled fury. Dylan's knuckles go white around the mug, and I wonder if he's imagining it's the ex's neck instead of ceramic. "Some Alpha named Vincent. Real piece of work. Controlling, manipulative, violent. She finally got out a few weeks ago, showed up at my place in the middle of the night looking like she'd been through hell."
The protective anger in his voice is unmistakable, and I understand it completely. If someone hurt my sister like that, if I had a sister, I'd want to tear them apart with my bare hands.
"I'm sorry. That's awful."
"She's safe now. That's what matters." But Dylan doesn't sound entirely convinced, and I wonder what he's not saying. “We’re actually having a bit of a movie night and I came to grab some of the muffins she likes. The owner is making a fresh batch so I said I’d wait.”
Movement catches my eye, and I turn to see Silas approaching with two large bags of takeout, the paper darkening with grease spots. His glasses are slightly fogged from the heat of the kitchen, and he's got that particular exhausted-but-satisfied look of someone who's accomplished a basic task and is unreasonably proud of themselves for it.
"Dylan," Silas says warmly, his whole face lighting up when he sees who I'm sitting with. He sets the bags down on the table and reaches out to clasp Dylan's hand, pulling him into a brief. "Good to see you, man. How've you been?"
"Hanging in there," Dylan muses. "You?"
"Same." Silas slides into the booth next to me, his thigh pressing against mine in the cramped space. "Work's been kicking my ass, but that's nothing new."
Dylan looks between the two of us, something thoughtful crossing his face. He drums his fingers on the table, chewing on his bottom lip for a few seconds before clasping his hands together. "Actually, I think we might be able to help each other."
I feel Silas tense beside me, wariness creeping into his posture. We've heard offers like this before. People who think they know what we need, who want to insert themselves into our lives and our pack under the guise of helping. However, Dylan is basically family. Unfortunately, we’ve had so many disasters, I’m not even sure we can trust that.
"We can't..." I start, shaking my head. "I'm not sure we can handle a little..." I trail off, not wanting to be rude but needing to be honest. We can't handle another failed attempt at finding an Omega. We can't handle another person who seems perfect until they're not. The kids can't handle it.
Dylan's eyebrows shoot up, and then he laughs. "I'm not offering you my sister, dipshit." The words are affectionate despite the insult. "Jesus, no. I just know she'll be well taken careof, she fucking loves kids, and it'll give her something to do. Get her mind off everything she's been through."
I blink, reorienting my understanding of where this conversation is going. "You're talking about us hiring her? As a nanny?"
"Or tutor, or whatever you want to call it. Summer's coming up and school's ending. She needs something to occupy her time, and you guys need help." Dylan spreads his hands, the offer seemingly simple and straightforward. "Look, I'm not forcing you. But let's meet at the coffee shop across from the school during lunch tomorrow, yeah? It's one of the last days before summer break. It will give you guys time to meet each other, see if it's a good fit."
My mind is already turning over the logistics, the possibilities, and the potential disasters. Another nanny. Another person in our house, in our space, and around our kids. The last time we did this, it ended with Riley having nightmares and Isaac's separation anxiety getting worse.
But Dylan's right. We need help.Desperately. And if his sister is anything like I remember, if she genuinely loves kids and isn't looking for anything beyond a job, maybe it could work.
"Hunter is going to want to be there too," I say slowly, already imagining how that first meeting will go. "And he's... fuck, he might terrify your sister."
It's not an exaggeration. Hunter in full head-Alpha mode is intimidating as hell. Six-foot-one of controlled intensity, grief carved into every line of his face, walls up so high you'd need climbing gear to get over them. He doesn't mean to be scary, but when he's protecting what's his, when he's evaluating a potential threat, he's intimidating.
Dylan rubs his fingers across his jaw, though there’s a smile forming on his face. "I'll talk to her. She's tougher than she looks right now. Let's say eleven-thirty?"
"Yeah, sure. Thanks." I slide out of the booth, grabbing one of the takeout bags. Silas grabs the other, standing and giving Dylan one more nod of farewell.
"See you tomorrow," Dylan says, something hopeful in his expression that makes me want this to work out even more.
The drive home is quiet, both of us lost in our own thoughts, the radio playing some country station at low volume, background noise to fill the silence. Riley's broccoli casserole is making the car smell like cheese and vegetables, and Isaac's noodles are probably getting cold, but it doesn't matter. Food is food.
We’re barely inside as the sound of chaos greets us, the front door barely open. Isaac's high-pitched giggle, Riley's exasperated voice, and Hunter's deeper rumble all blend together in a cacophony that somehow sounds like home. The only thing missing is Evie’s soft laughter and her honeyed scent that would have made this moment perfect.
We find them in the kitchen. Hunter has both kids corralled at the table, Isaac in his booster seat and Riley in the chair next to him, while he watches from the other side, those deep hazel eyes holding some of the warmth I miss so much.
"Reinforcements have arrived," Hunter announces when he sees us, relief evident in his voice. "And they brought food, which means I don't have to figure out if we have anything that constitutes a meal in this house."
