Isaac tugs on my hand. "Does this mean you're going to be here all the time? Like every day?"
"Looks like it," I tell him, and his whoop of joy echoes through the house.
Even Riley's serious expression cracks a little, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth before she forces it away. I think we need each other, even if none of us want to admit it out loud.
So when Hunter extends his hand for me to shake, finalizing the agreement, I take it.
And I don't pull away quite as quickly this time.
Amelia
I've been awake since five this morning, lying in my nest and staring at the ceiling while my stomach tied itself into progressively tighter knots. Today is my first official day with the Kane pack. Summer has officially started, school let out two days ago, and now I'm supposed to show up at their house and take care of their kids like I'm a functioning human being instead of a mess of anxiety and trauma responses.
They sent over a list of expectations yesterday, all of them surprisingly reasonable. Nothing overwhelming. Nothing I can't handle.
The pay they’re offering for basically babysitting is generous. More than generous, actually. When Dylan saw the number, his eyebrows had shot up. But this is good. I can throw myself into this. I need to throw myself into this. Having a purpose, having something to focus on besides the constant fear that Vincent is going to find me, is exactly what I need right now.
So why does walking to their house feel like I'm walking to my own execution?
The bus drops me off three blocks away, the walk to their front door just under a mile. I'd mapped it out carefully last night and traced the route on my phone a dozen times. I know exactly where I'm going. I know how long it takes. I've eliminated as many variables as I can.
But I'm still nervous as hell.
I keep adjusting my clothes as I walk, smoothing down my shirt, checking that my jeans aren't twisted, and making sure my hair is still in its braid. It's a compulsion I can't seem to shake, this need to make sure everything is perfect, that there's nothing Vincent could criticize if he were here.
Except he's not here. He doesn't get to have an opinion anymore.
I repeat that to myself like a mantra, but it doesn't stop my hands from fidgeting with the hem of my shirt. I stop just at the edge of the driveway, forcing myself to stay put and breathe rather than take off.I can do this,I tell myself over and over again.They’re Dylan’s friends. They can’t hurt me.
Three seconds later, I’m at their front door, knocking on the wood and hoping that this won’t be a disaster in the making.
The door opens almost immediately, Wyatt standing there with a soft smile on his lips. He's wearing jeans and a darkcolored t-shirt, his blond-brown curls slightly damp like he just got out of the shower, a fresh wave of his citrus scent hitting my nose.
"Hey. Right on time. Come on in."
I step inside, noticing that the house is cleaner than it was during my interview, but there's still that lived-in quality. Toys in a basket by the stairs, small shoes lined up by the door, and a backpack hanging on a hook.
"The kids are just getting up," Wyatt explains, closing the door behind me. "Isaac's an early riser but Riley likes to sleep in when she can. They'll probably be down in about ten minutes. Do you want some coffee? I just made a fresh pot."
"That would be great, thank you," I manage to say, following him toward the kitchen.
That's when I hear footsteps on the stairs. I turn just as Hunter appears, and he's somehow more intimidating in casual clothes than he was in his suit. Tattoos that were covered up before line his arms and his long hair is pulled back in a low bun, his hazel eyes landing on me immediately.
"Morning," he says, his voice that same deep rumble as the day we met. "Glad you made it."
"Morning," I echo, wrapping my arms around myself.
Silas appears from what must be his study from around the back of the stairs, a coffee mug in one hand and his glasses in the other, but he smiles when he sees me.
"Good morning, Amelia," he says. "Welcome to the chaos."
I manage to mirror his smile, about to say good morning for the second time, when I notice that all three Alphas go stiff. Simultaneously. Like someone hit a pause button on the entire scene. Three pairs of eyes lock onto me with an intensity that makes my skin prickle as the realization sinks in.
Oh god. Oh no.
I forgot my scent blockers.
In all my nervous energy this morning, all my obsessive preparation and route-planning and clothes-adjusting, I forgot the single most important thing. The cream is sitting on my bathroom counter at Dylan's house, and I'm standing here in a house full of Alphas with my scent on full display.
