And then, in an instant, that bit of happiness was stolen from us.
I let out a heavy breath and look at the kitchen. From here I can see the sink, and there are dishes piled in it, but it's not a total disaster. The counters are mostly clear. No food left out to rot. We're managing,barely.
But it might be time to revisit the whole maid or nanny conversation again.
The thought makes my stomach twist with anxiety and something close to dread. Our last nanny had been a disaster that turned into a nightmare.Raven. Beautiful and charming and so wrong for us it's almost funny in retrospect.
She'd seemed perfect at first, good with the kids, and helpful around the house. But she'd wanted nothing to do with actually raising Isaac and Riley. She had wanted Alphas,us, and the status of being with a pack, having a nice house and the financial security that came with it.
The kids had been an inconvenience to her at best. At worst, I'd caught her being cruel. Ignoring Isaac when he cried, snapping at Riley when she asked too many questions. The final straw had been finding out she'd locked Isaac in his room during one of his tantrums instead of actually dealing with it. He'd been hysterical when I found him, red-faced and choking on his sobs, and I'd seen red.
We'd told her to leave that night, although she'd turned it around on us somehow, trying to make it seem like we were the problem. Even with her gone, though, the damage was done. Riley had nightmares for weeks. Isaac developed separation anxiety that we're still working through. And all three of us Alphas had felt like failures, like we'd brought a threat right into our home.
So we're all wary about bringing someone else in. Terrified, actually. What if we make the same mistake? What if we let someone in who hurts our kids again? What if we're such badjudges of character that we can't even keep our own children safe?
But fuck, we need help. We're drowning. The house is falling apart. The kids need more attention than we can give them. We're all exhausted and short-tempered and barely holding it together.
I drag a hand through my hair, feeling the tangles catch against my fingers. I need a haircut. Add it to the list of things I don't have time for.
"I'll put an order in for the diner," I say to Hunter, already mentally running through what the kids will actually eat. "Anything in particular other than that broccoli casserole for Riley?"
Riley has decided she's obsessed with broccoli lately. She won't eat it any way except smothered in cheese sauce in that casserole the diner makes. At least it's a vegetable. I'm not going to question it.
Hunter shifts slightly under the weight of the kids, careful not to wake them. "Isaac's on a noodles kick right now. Something like that." He pauses, then adds without looking at me, "Just get something for you guys. I'm not hungry."
I laugh, but there's no humor in it. "Yeah, don't make me force feed you, Alpha."
I say it jokingly, keeping my tone light, but we both know I'm serious. Hunter has lost weight this past year. Not a lot, but enough that his suits hang a little looser and the sharpness of his collarbones when he's shirtless are more pronounced. Someone has to make sure he takes care of himself, and that someone is usually me.
"Let me go find Silas," I say, turning toward the hallway.
I pull out my phone as I walk, already looking through the delivery options from the diner. The app loads slowly on ourancient WiFi, and I make a mental note to call the internet company.Again.
The study door is closed but not locked. Silas isn't hiding, exactly. He just needs to be alone with his grief sometimes, even if the way he does it is slowly killing him.
I'm unsurprised to see him poring over pictures and files when I push the door open slightly. He's got photographs spread across the desk, some face-up and some face-down. Crime scene photos, probably, or evidence from whatever case he's working. There are files stacked in neat piles, color-coded tabs sticking out, Silas working by the glow of his desk lamp.
Working from home made sense at first. It would give him more time with the kids while we were all navigating Evie’s loss. But it's become a crutch. An escape. A way to avoid dealing with the empty space in our bed and our hearts and our lives.
God, it hurts so goddamn much, even a year later. Some days it feels like it happened yesterday. Other days it feels like Evie's been gone forever, like I can barely remember what her laugh sounded like or the way she'd scrunch her nose when she was thinking hard about something.
Fuck. Focus, Wyatt.
I knock lightly on the doorframe, not wanting to startle him. "Earth to Silas."
He looks up, and for just a second, I see the exhaustion written plainly across his face. The dark circles under his eyes, the way his glasses sit crooked on his nose like he's been rubbing at his face. Then he manages a small smile.
"Just a few more minutes," he says, already looking back down at the file in front of him.
I shake my head and push inside the study properly, crossing the small space in a few strides. Before he can protest, I grab the arms of his rolling chair and drag it backward, away from the desk.
"Wyatt—" he starts, but I'm already moving.
I slide into his lap, settling my weight across his thighs and framing his face with my hands. His skin is warm beneath my palms, the light scratch of his beard rough against my fingers. I lean in and kiss the bridge of his nose, right where his glasses rest, then pull back just enough to look him in the eyes.
"Alpha," I say softly, my thumbs stroking along his cheekbones. "It's time to come out of your little work cave and join society. All of this will still be here tomorrow morning."
Silas opens his mouth to argue, the excuses already forming. "But—"
