I want to argue, want to insist that I need to be alone, that I need space to process everything churning inside me. But the truth is I'm terrified that if I hide away in my nest, I'll convince myself that everything Raven said was true. That I'll talk myself out of this before I even give it a real chance.
"Okay," I whisper.
Silas guides me to the living room with a gentle hand on my lower back, announcing his presence before he touches me in a way that Dylan must have coached him on. The kids are absorbed in their movie, curled up together on the couch under a blanket. We settle in the adjacent sitting area, far enough away that they can't hear us but close enough that I can see them, reassure myself they're okay.
I sink onto the couch, my whole body shaking. The room feels too warm, my skin prickling with heat that has nothing to do with the temperature. My shirt sticks to my back with sweat that shouldn't be there, and there's a restless energy crawling under my skin that I can't quite shake.
Silas appears with a glass of water, pressing it into my hands with gentle insistence. "Drink. Slowly."
I take a sip, then another, the cool liquid helping ground me back in my body. The glass is cold against my palms, almost too cold, making me shiver despite the heat. He settles beside me on the couch, not touching yet, just present. Waiting for permission the way they all do now, the way they've learned I need.
"She's wrong," Silas says quietly after a moment. "About everything she said. You know that, right?"
I want to believe him. God, I want to believe him so badly. But Raven's accusations hit every insecurity I have, every fear I've been trying to push down and ignore. What if I am just temporary? What if they realize I'm not worth the complications I bring? What if the kids get attached and then I have to leave and I hurt them the way losing their mother hurt them?
"I don't know what I know anymore," I whisper, staring down at the water glass. My hands are shaking so badly the water ripples. "Everything's moving so fast. Two weeks ago I was just the nanny. Now I'm sleeping in Wyatt's bed and kissing you in the kitchen and holding Hunter's hand at the park and I don't know what any of it means. I don't know where I stand or what you want from me or if this is real or if I'm just convenient until something better comes along."
The words tumble out in a rush, too honest and too vulnerable, but I can't hold them back anymore. The uncertainty is eating me alive, making it impossible to just accept the good things happening without waiting for them to be ripped away.
Silas is quiet for a long moment, and when I finally work up the courage to look at him, his expression is pained. Dark circles shadow his eyes, visible even behind his glasses. His jaw is tight with tension, but his hand when it reaches for mine is steady and warm.
"I'm sorry we've made you feel uncertain. That wasn't our intention."
"Then what was your intention?" The question comes out sharper than I mean it to, frustration bleeding through. "Because right now I feel like I'm in the middle of something I don't understand, trying to navigate dynamics I'm not equipped for, and I'm terrified of messing everything up."
"Silas?" Hunter's voice comes from the doorway, and I jump slightly despite myself. He notices, his expression tightening with something that looks like guilt. "Sorry. Didn't mean to startle you. Wyatt's getting the kids their snacks. We should all talk."
I nod, even though the idea of having this conversation with all three of them makes my stomach twist with nerves. Another wave of heat washes over me and I resist the urge to fan myself. But I need answers. I need to know what this is, what they want,what I'm allowed to want without being too much or asking for too much.
Wyatt joins us a few minutes later, settling on my other side while Hunter takes the chair across from us. The leather creaks under his weight, and the sound makes me flinch before I can stop myself. They're all watching me with varying degrees of concern, and I have to look away before the intensity of their attention makes me lose my nerve entirely.
The silence stretches, heavy and expectant, until I can't stand it anymore.
"I can't handle the uncertainty anymore," I say, my voice steadier than I feel. "I need to know what this is. What we're doing. What you want from me."
"We want to court you," Wyatt says immediately, like he's been waiting for permission to say it out loud. His hand finds mine, threading our fingers together. "Properly. All three of us."
The words should make me feel relieved, should answer the questions churning in my head. Instead, they just create new ones. "Court me how? Like a traditional pack courtship? Like what you had with Evie?"
The mention of her name shifts something in the room. Hunter's expression closes off, those hazel eyes going distant. Silas looks down at his hands, his jaw working like he's chewing on words. Wyatt's hand tightens around mine, his thumb stroking circles that are probably meant to be comforting but just make me more aware of how warm my skin feels.
The ghost of her is still so present here, in every photo on the walls, in the kids upstairs, in the way these men move around the empty space where she used to be.
"We haven't dated anyone since Evie died," Silas says quietly. "Not really. Raven was a disaster that happened about five months after we lost her. We were all drowning, the kids needed care, and she presented herself as the solution. But she didn'twant the kids. She wanted us, wanted the status and security of being with a pack, and when we couldn't give her what she wanted—when we realized how she was treating Riley and Isaac—it ended badly. She left two months later and has been bitter about it ever since."
"We've been scared," Hunter adds, his hazel eyes finding mine. There's vulnerability there that I've never seen before, like he's deliberately lowering his walls. "Scared of moving on too fast, of betraying Evie's memory. Scared of the kids getting attached to someone new and then losing them again. They've already lost so much. We can't do that to them again."
The raw honesty in his admission makes my chest ache. These aren't just three Alphas trying to fill the Omega-shaped hole in their pack. They're grieving fathers trying to protect their children while also trying to figure out how to live again.
"I'm scared too," I whisper, my free hand twisting in my lap. "Of all of that and more. I'm scared of not being enough, of being too broken to fit into what you need. I'm scared of betraying Evie's memory by trying to take her place. I'm scared of hurting the kids if this doesn't work out. I'm scared of falling in love with all of you and having it turn into another nightmare like Vincent."
"We're not him," Wyatt says firmly, both hands cupping my face now, making me look at him. His blue eyes are blazing with intensity. "I know you know that intellectually, but I need you to really understand it. We will never hurt you the way he did. Never."
"I know." And I do know that, on some level. But knowing and believing are two different things, and my body still remembers Vincent's cruelty even when my mind tries to trust these men.
Hunter leans forward in his chair, his elbows on his knees. The movement draws my attention and I watch as he drags a hand through his hair, loosening strands from his bun. "I strugglewith guilt," he says, his voice rough and low. "Every single day. Evie was my baby sister. I was supposed to protect her, keep her safe, and I failed. She died and I couldn't stop it. And now I'm sitting here wanting someone else, wanting you, barely a year later, and it feels like a betrayal."
The vulnerability in his confession breaks something open in my chest. I've been so focused on my own fears and insecurities that I haven't fully considered what this means for them. For Hunter especially, who loved Evie in multiple ways, who's been drowning in grief and guilt.
