"Morning," he says, his voice rough and deeper than usual. "You snuck out."
"I wanted to make breakfast," I explain, gesturing at the mixing bowl in front of me. "And I thought you could use the sleep."
He crosses the kitchen in a few strides, coming up behind me and wrapping his arms around my waist. His chin rests on my shoulder, and I can feel the warmth of him all along my back. "I'd rather have woken up with you still there."
My hands still on the spoon I'm holding, my heart doing that stupid fluttering thing it does whenever he touches me. "I'm not very good at the morning after part. I never know what I'm supposed to do or say."
"You're supposed to wake me up with kisses," he murmurs against my ear, his breath warm on my skin. "And then we're supposed to lie there for a while being lazy before we have to adult and take care of kids."
I laugh despite my nerves, leaning back into him. "That sounds nice. Maybe next time."
"Next time," he agrees, and the certainty in his voice makes my chest warm. He's not treating last night like a one-time thing or a mistake. He's already planning for next time, already assuming there will be more nights together.
He turns me in his arms, his hands settling on my hips, and kisses me properly. It starts soft, just a gentle press of lips, but quickly deepens into something more heated. His tongue slides against mine and I make a small sound in my throat, my hands coming up to grip his shoulders.
Before I quite know how it happens, he's lifting me onto the counter, stepping between my legs, his hands sliding up my thighs in a way that makes my brain go fuzzy. I thread my fingers through his hair, pulling him closer, losing myself in the feeling of his mouth on mine and his body pressed against me.
I'm so lost in the kiss that I almost miss the movement in my peripheral vision. Almost. But years of hypervigilance, of constantly watching for threats, means I catch it. Someone standing in the doorway, frozen.
Silas.
I break the kiss, my eyes finding his across the kitchen. He's wearing pajama pants and a t-shirt, his glasses already on, his dark hair still rumpled from sleep. And he's staring at us with an expression that makes my breath catch.
He doesn't look angry. Doesn't look judgmental or disgusted or any of the things I might have expected. He looks hungry. Longing. And underneath that, devastated, like he's watching something he desperately wants but thinks he can't have.
Our eyes meet and hold. The moment stretches out, heavy with tension and want and confusion. Wyatt has noticed him too, I can tell by the way his body has gone still against mine, though he doesn't pull away.
Then Silas moves. Slowly, deliberately, crossing the kitchen toward us with his eyes locked on mine the entire time. My heart is pounding so hard I can hear it in my ears, my hands tightening in Wyatt's hair without meaning to. I don't know what's happening, don't understand the dynamics at play here, but I can't look away from Silas' dark eyes.
He stops right in front of us, close enough that I can smell his rain scent mixing with Wyatt's citrus. Close enough that if I leaned forward just slightly, I could touch him. His hand comes up slowly, cupping my face the way Wyatt had last night, his thumb stroking across my cheekbone.
Then he leans in, hovering just above my lips. Not kissing me, not taking, just waiting. Giving me the choice to close the distance if I want to. Giving me the power to say yes or no, to accept or reject him.
I close the distance.
His kiss is different from Wyatt's. Hungry but hesitant, like he's been starving for this but is still half-convinced I'm going to push him away. Like he's waiting for rejection even as he's kissing me, his hand trembling slightly against my face.
I kiss him back harder, trying to communicate without words that I want this, that I'm not going to reject him. His other hand comes up to frame my face and the kiss deepens, becoming more confident, more sure. When we finally break apart, we're both breathing hard.
He manages a small smile, something genuine breaking through the uncertainty. "Good morning, sweetheart."
Then he does something that makes my brain short-circuit completely. He reaches for Wyatt's hand, the one that's still resting on my thigh, and brings it to his lips. The gesture is intimate and familiar, speaking of history and connection that I'm only just beginning to understand. A kiss pressed to Wyatt's knuckles, tender and full of meaning, before he releases him and steps back.
"I should..." Silas gestures vaguely toward the hallway. "I have a call with the base at seven. I'll let you two finish your morning."
He disappears down the hallway before either of us can respond, leaving me sitting on the counter with Wyatt still standing between my legs and my thoughts spinning in about fifteen different directions at once.
I slide off the counter, my legs feeling unsteady, my heart racing with a mixture of excitement and confusion and something that feels dangerously close to hope. Wyatt watches me with knowing eyes, not trying to stop me as I put some distance between us, needing space to think.
The pack dynamics are so much more complicated than I understood. I'd known they all loved Evie together, that she was their Omega, their center. But I hadn't really processed what that meant. How Wyatt and Silas must have shared her, beenwith her, loved her together. How Hunter fit into that as head Alpha and her brother, protective but also part of the pack structure.
And now I'm here, kissing one and then the other, and they're kissing each other, and I feel like I've stepped into the middle of something intricate and beautiful that I don't quite know how to navigate.
Is this what they want? All three of them with me? Am I supposed to fit into the space Evie left behind, to be the Omega that connects them all? Can I even do that? Do I want to?
My heart gives me the answer before my brain can catch up. Yes. God help me, yes. My heart is big enough for all of them. For Wyatt's easy affection and Silas' quiet intensity and Hunter's steady presence. For Riley's fierce protectiveness and Isaac's boundless energy. For this whole complicated, broken, beautiful family.
But wanting something and being brave enough to reach for it are two different things entirely.
