I brace myself for them to say no, to tell me that's too much, that they need their own space and their own bed.
But Maddox just laughs. "Oh, I was already planning on it, little sis. You have all the comfy stuff in the house. Your brother likes those flat pillows on the bed."
Dylan makes an affronted noise. "They're not flat, they'refirm. There's a difference."
"They'repancakes," Maddox counters, throwing my brother a wild grin. "Literalpancakes."
"You're both sleeping on the floor if you keep this up," I threaten, but there's no heat in it.
Dylan waves over his shoulder as he heads out. "Be back soon. Don't let Maddox steal all the good pillows."
And then he's gone, his footsteps receding down the hallway, and it's just me and Maddox in the soft glow of my fairy lights. Maddox looks at me, his expression gentling. "Permission to enter?"
"Permission granted," I whisper.
He carefully steps into my nest, mindful of the arrangement I've created. He doesn't try to rearrange anything or make it suit him better. He just settles into the space I've made, fitting himself around the edges of my sanctuary.
Wyatt
I push through the front door, my shoulders aching from a long day of consulting work with the local PD. The case had been straightforward enough, but sitting in those uncomfortable plastic chairs for hours while going over evidence reports has left my back stiff and my patience thin.
I roll my shoulders a few times before chuckling at the state of the living room as it greets me with its usual chaos. Toys are scattered across the floor like a minefield. Action figures sprawled in death poses, building blocks creating hazards forbare feet, and a coloring book is splayed open with crayons rolling loose. But it's the scene on the couch that makes me pause, my emotions settling a little.
The kids are passed out on either side of Hunter, their small bodies slumped against him in complete abandon. Isaac's mouth is open slightly, a small wet spot forming on Hunter's shirt where he's drooling. Riley has her arm thrown over Hunter's lap, her long dark hair falling across her face.
Between them, Hunter is sitting back against the cushions, studying a blueprint spread across his thighs, his reading glasses perched on his nose. He's still in his work clothes, suit jacket discarded somewhere but his dress shirt is still buttoned, sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
When I take another step forward, mercilessly crushing whatever lego structure that was, Hunter looks up, those hazel eyes finding mine over the tops of his glasses. "How was the day?"
I shrug, toeing off my boots by the door and lining them up neatly against the wall. It's one of the few organizational habits that's survived the past year of barely keeping our heads above water. "Normal. Routine case, nothing exciting."
"Good," Hunter says, but his attention is already drifting back to the blueprint. I can see the tension in his shoulders, the way he holds himself rigid even with two sleeping kids using him as a pillow.
My gaze sweeps the living room again, really taking it in this time. The toys are just the beginning of the chaos in our house. There are juice boxes on the coffee table, half-empty and probably warm by now. A bowl of what looks like cereal sits abandoned on the arm of the chair, the milk long since absorbed by the soggy flakes. Someone's backpack has exploded near the stairs, papers and books and what might be yesterday's lunch container spilling out.
We need to do laundry. The hamper in the hallway is probably overflowing again. We need to make dinner, though looking at the time on the microwave clock, it's already past six-thirty and none of us have started anything. No doubt all three of us are overworked, running on fumes and stubbornness. It'll probably be takeout tonight because we all need the rest, even if none of us will admit it out loud.
I stretch, rolling my shoulders again, the satisfying crack of my spine popping in three places making me relax a little. The sound makes Isaac stir slightly, but he just burrows deeper into Hunter's side without waking.
"Where's Silas?" I ask, though I already have a pretty good idea.
Hunter nods toward the study without looking up from his blueprint. "See if you can get him to take a break."
My shoulders droop at the confirmation. The study. Of course. Where else would he be?
We're all still healing in our own way, I know that. But God, our ways are so unhealthy it keeps me up at night sometimes. Hunter doesn't, correction,won’ttalk about it. He bottles everything up inside until I'm surprised he doesn't just explode from the pressure. He throws himself into work, into being the strong one, into making sure everyone else is okay while completely ignoring his own grief.
Silas buries himself in work at the base, bringing home files and case reports and photographs, disappearing into the study for hours at a time. The military has been gracious about it, understanding even, giving him extensions on deadlines and letting him work from home more often. We all have the same security clearance, so it's not against protocol. But it's killing us anyway. It's almost a death sentence to the pack because now Silas is always in that room, hiding away from the inevitability of Evie being gone.
And me? I spend all my time focusing on everyone else. Making sure Hunter eats. Checking on Silas. Reading to the kids every night even when I'm so exhausted I can barely keep my eyes open. I schedule playdates and doctor's appointments and parent-teacher conferences. I handle the logistics of our broken little family while carefully avoiding looking at my own grief too closely, either.
Over the last year, losing our Omega, Evie, wrecked us. Completely and utterly wrecked us.
We haven't functioned the same since the night Silas got the call from the hospital. Since we rushed there to find out she was already gone, that the car accident had been so sudden and that she never had a chance. Since we had to figure out how to tell Riley that Mommy wasn't coming home and watch her little face crumple as she tried to understand something that none of us could make sense of.
Isaac had been too young to really understand. He'd been three, just barely verbal enough to ask where Mama was, not old enough to grasp the concept of forever. Now he's four and his memories of her are already fading, and sometimes I catch Silas watching him with this devastating expression, like he's watching Evie disappear all over again.
We were a strange pack, to say the least, three Alphas in a pack but not romantically involved.At first.I’m not even sure how I fell into Silas’ arms or maybe he fell into mine and then Hunter’s sister started hanging around. We weren’t even scent matches. It was just pure fate bringing us together. The rest was history. Well, it was a lot of proving to Hunter that we wouldn’t hurt his baby sister and that we’d take care of her forever. When he finally gave in, he stayed, still watching over us, taking care of us, and making sure we had everything needed.
