Dylan waits until I'm on the porch before he pulls away. I raise my hand to knock and then remember Wyatt said to let myself in. It’s nerve-racking just to walk inside but I do anyway, the house already awake, sounds of movement coming from upstairs. Small feet patter across the upstairs carpet, Isaac’s laughter ringing through the open space followed by the low rumble of an adult voice that must be Hunter. I set my bag down by the door and head toward the kitchen, figuring that's the best place to start.
The kitchen is cleaner than it was two days ago during our meeting, the small signs of effort very noticeable. Dishes are drying in the rack instead of piling up in the sink. The counters have been wiped down. Someone's even put fresh flowers ina vase on the windowsill, though by the crumpled stalks and several petals missing, I’m going to assume they came from Isaac or Riley.
I start rummaging through the refrigerator, taking stock of what's available for breakfast, when I hear the thunder of small feet on the stairs. Isaac bursts into the kitchen like a tiny tornado, still in his pajamas, his curly hair sticking up in every direction.
"Miss Sterling!" His whole face lights up when he sees me, and he runs over to wrap his arms around my legs. "You came back! Dad said you would, but I wasn't sure and I really wanted to show you my trucks and—"
"Breathe, buddy," I say, laughing as I reach down to smooth his wild hair. "I'm here. I came back, just like I said I would."
Riley appears in the doorway a moment later, moving slower than her brother, not as easily impressed by my presence. She's already dressed for the day in shorts and a t-shirt with a cartoon character I don't recognize. Her long dark hair is tangled, like she slept on it wet and no one brushed it this morning. My first instinct is to sit her down and help her with it but it’s not my place and we’re not at that stage yet.
"Good morning, Riley," I say gently, not pushing for more than she's willing to give.
"Morning," she mumbles, sliding into a chair at the kitchen table. Her eyes track my movements as I turn back to the refrigerator, and I'm hyperaware of that the real test I have to pass ishers.
"What do you guys normally have for breakfast?" I ask, keeping my voice as light as possible.
"Cereal," Riley says at the same time Isaac yells, "Pancakes!"
I look between them, then smile. "How about we compromise? Riley can have cereal, and I'll make pancakes for Isaac. Does that work?"
Riley shrugs, which I'm beginning to think is about as much enthusiasm as she shows for anything else. Or maybe it’s because the last few nannies failed in being what she needed. Isaac, on the other hand, does a little victory dance that makes me laugh again.
"Can you make the ones with the chocolate chips?" he asks, his hazel-green eyes widening with hope. "Mama used to make them with chocolate chips."
The mention of their mother makes the air in the kitchen shift. Riley goes very still in her chair, suddenly staring down at the table. Isaac doesn't seem to notice the change, still bouncing with excitement about the prospect of chocolate chip pancakes.
"I think I can do that," I say softly. "Why don't you go wash your hands and face, and by the time you come back, breakfast will be ready?" Wyatt mentioned that the kids didn’t need help getting changed or washing up, just the... everything else that happened during the day. I’m hoping the bit of silence will give me a few moments to understand Riley a bit better.
Isaac races off, his footsteps pounding back up the stairs. Riley stays where she is, still staring at the table, her shoulders hunched inward. I move around the kitchen quietly, gathering ingredients, giving her space to feel whatever she's feeling without forcing her to talk about it.
I start mixing the pancake batter when Hunter appears in the doorway. He's already dressed for work, his long hair pulled back in a neat bun, his eyes walking around the kitchen.
"Morning," he says, his voice a deep rumble. My heart flutters against my will but I quickly dismiss it as just nerves. "You made it."
"I did," I confirm, focusing on the batter instead of looking at him directly. "I hope it's okay that I started on breakfast. Isaac requested pancakes."
"More than okay." He moves into the kitchen, heading straight for the coffee maker. "Thank you. We usually just do cereal or pop-tarts in the morning. Actual breakfast is..." He trails off, and I don't need him to finish the sentence to understand. Actual breakfast is too much work when you're barely keeping your head above water.
"It's no problem," I say, and mean it. This is what I'm here for. This is what I can do to help.
Hunter pours himself a cup of coffee and leans against the counter, watching me work. It should make me nervous, being observed like this, but there's something about the way he's watching that doesn't feel threatening. He's not leering or making me uncomfortable. He's just...watching. Making sure I'm real, maybe. Making sure his kids are safe with me.
I can understand that.
Maybe it’s also because Vincent never did that. He would lurk or stand just around a corner. Only when he needed something would he pop up and grab me. But Hunter is just... here. And I can see him. And the most threatening thing he’s doing is drinking his coffee while his throat works...
No.
Isaac comes thundering back down the stairs, his face and hands damp from what was probably the world's quickest and least thorough washing. He climbs into his booster seat and immediately starts chattering about his trucks and the game he wants to play later and can we go to the park and do I like dinosaurs because hereallylikes dinosaurs.
I answer his questions while I fumble around for the pan and then a spatula before flipping pancakes and trying not to burn them. Riley still hasn’t moved from her spot as I plate the pancakes and then move toward the fridge to grab the krispy flakes and the whole milk from the fridge. I twist around three times before finding the bowls, Isaac happily pointing to everycabinet except the right one. Hunter smirks as I finally find the right one but can’t reach it,short Omega be damned.
He steps up next to me as I scurry out of the way and put my hands out for the porcelain. As much as I used to dream about beingthatwoman where I could blush with a big, tall, handsome Alpha over me... it doesn’t bring the same fluttering response anymore. Hunter frowns at me as he hands me the bowl, obviously confused about my reaction but he doesn’t need to understand.
Now, that I have what I need, I pour a healthy serving of flakes into the porcelain and then slide it toward Riley before preparing a small cup with milk in it and handing that to her as well. She stares at both items in front of her and then me before glaring at the bowl. “Why... why would you do that?”
“It’s how I always eat cereal. I can never figure out how much milk I want and I always want some at the end after... everything. So, I get a cup.”
