By the time we get home, the kids are sugar-buzzed and exhausted in equal measure. They go down for a nap without much protest, both of them worn out from the game and the excitement. I'm cleaning up the kitchen when Silas appears, his laptop tucked under his arm.
"I've got them," he says, nodding toward the stairs. "If they wake up, I'll handle it. Why don't you take Hunter some lunch? He's been at the construction site all day and I know he probably hasn't eaten."
The suggestion is casual, but something in his expression tells me it's more than that. Like he knows Hunter's been distant and thinks maybe I can bridge whatever gap has formed.
I pause before answering, leaning against the counter as another wave of heat washes through me. My heat is definitely getting closer. Another day, maybe two at most. I need to call Dylan about taking the kids soon.
"Okay," I agree, already mentally going through what I can pack that will travel well.
I make sandwiches and add fruit and cookies, packing everything in a container with care. The drive to the construction site takes twenty minutes, and I spend the whole time trying to figure out what I'm going to say. How to ask why Hunter's been pulling away without sounding accusatory or needy.
The construction office is a small trailer at the edge of the site, and when I knock, Hunter's voice calls for me to come in. He's sitting at a makeshift desk covered in blueprints and paperwork, still in his work clothes with dust on his jeans and a hardhat hanging on the wall behind him.
He looks up when I enter, surprise flickering across his face. "Amelia. What are you doing here?"
"Brought you lunch." I hold up the container. "Silas said you probably haven't eaten."
Something in his expression softens, but it's gone so quickly I almost miss it. "That's thoughtful. Thank you." He takes the container but sets it aside without opening it. "You didn't have to drive all the way out here, though."
"I wanted to." I shift my weight, suddenly nervous. "And I wanted to talk to you."
His jaw tightens slightly. "About?"
"About why you've been avoiding me." The words come out more direct than I intended, but I can't take them back now. "Ever since last night with Silas and Wyatt, you've been... distant. And I need to know if I did something wrong. If you don't want this. If I'm pushing where I'm not wanted."
"You didn't do anything wrong." His voice is tight, controlled in a way that makes me think he's holding something back.
"Then what is it?" I take a step closer, frustration bleeding into my voice. "Because it feels like you're pulling away and I don't understand why. I thought you wanted this too."
He stands slowly, his chair scraping against the floor. "It's complicated."
"Then explain it to me." My hands twist together in front of me, that nervous habit I can't break. "Help me understand."
"Is it about Evie?" I force myself to ask the question I've been avoiding. "Are you feeling guilty about last night? About wanting this when she's only been gone a year?"
Hunter goes very still, his hands flattening on the blueprints in front of him. When he looks up, his hazel eyes are filled with something that looks like pain.
"Don't," he says, his voice tight. "Don't do that."
"Don't do what?" Confusion makes my voice rise slightly.
"Don't you dare hide behind my sister." The words come out harsh, almost angry, but his eyes are anguished in a way that makes my chest hurt. "Don't use Evie as an excuse for why I might not want you. Because that's not what this is about."
"Then what is it about?" I'm trembling now, fear and hurt warring in my chest.
He drags both hands through his hair, loosening his bun completely so dark strands fall around his face. "She was everything to me." His voice cracks on the words, raw and broken. "My baby sister. The person I was supposed to protect, supposed to keep safe. And she's gone. She's been gone for a year and I still wake up some mornings forgetting she's dead, reaching for my phone to call her before I remember."
Tears are streaming down my face now, my heart breaking for him, for the grief he's carrying that's so much more complicated than what Silas and Wyatt have been dealing with.
"And I feel like I'm betraying her every time I want you," he continues, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "Every time I imagine a future with you in it. Every time I let myself think about having you in my bed, in my life, in my pack. It feels like I'm replacing her, like I'm moving on too fast, like I'm being disloyal to her memory."
His voice breaks completely on the last word and I see his eyes fill with tears he's been holding back. The sight of this strong, controlled Alpha breaking down in front of me cracks something open in my chest.
"Then maybe I should go." The words tear out of me, pain making them sharp. "Maybe I should leave before I hurt you more, before I make everything worse—"
"Don't." He's around the desk in seconds, moving faster than I've ever seen him move. "Don't you dare finish that sentence."
He crowds me back against the desk, his hands coming down on either side of me, caging me in. I should feel trapped, should feel threatened by the intensity of his presence. But I don't. I just feel safe, held, like he's creating a space where only we exist.
