I’m not used to doing nothing. Before, I had to juggle it all on my own, on top of trying to piece myself back together. But now, it’s almost too easy, and I feel like I’m wandering in circles while Caleb handles everything else.
Even while sitting at the kitchen table, watching as Astrid draws some very abstract animals on scraps of paper, my fingers tap restlessly against the wooden surface.
I miss working more than I ever expected to, and I miss having something that’s mine, separate from the pack, and separate from the bond.
I can’t help but wonder if it might return the sense of self I had before, and I know for a fact that I need the excuse to get away from the house for a bit, even if it’s just for a few hours.
To get out of the gravitational pull Caleb has had over me ever since I let him touch me again.
Before the thought can get the better of me, I push it back down. I don’t need to be thinking about that right now.
Right as I start considering talking to him about it, Caleb moves through the door, swathing the house in his overwhelming presence.
Without missing a beat, Astrid hops down from her chair and races over to him, as she’s started to make a habit of. He picks her up with that easy grin, lifting her high while her amusement fills the room and lights up every inch of me.
I stare for a long moment, taking in the way they’ve accepted each other so easily, like no time has been missed—as if Caleb has been in her life since the start.
That familiar ache comes right back, and I silently scold myself for letting it creep in again.
He notices then, and his expression softens as he places Astrid back on her feet, letting her rush off into the living room for something else to entertain her.
Without needing even a nudge, the invisible cord between us hums like it’s waking up again, invigorated by being in the same space again.
Before he can say anything, and before I can lose my nerve, I go for it.
“I want to start working again.”
Caleb stills, caught off guard by it. The air between us tenses, but I force myself to push through anyway.
“I’m closer to town now, and to my clients,” I continue, pulling in a breath. “I can start gradually and go from there.”
His expression shifts just enough for me to notice, and as hard as he tries to remain neutral, I can see the tension in his shoulders. I can feel the immediate refusal forming.
“No,” he murmurs, tone clipped. “Not yet.”
Immediately, burning irritation moves through me at his denial. “Caleb—”
“We’re both still adjusting to the change… to this,” he says, seemingly gathering his thoughts on the fly. “Your place is here now. With Astrid, and with the pack. You don’t need to rush into work again, especially not when I can provide.”
“It’s not rushing anything. It’s my work.”
Caleb huffs out a breath. “You don’t even need to work.”
“Maybe not financially,” I mutter as I stand up from the table, hoping he can see the determination coursing through me. “But I need it for myself.”
Despite listening, his shoulders set, and his lips set in that stubborn line of his. “This isn’t a good time, Lila. Not with Wraith Peak pushing boundaries. I won’t risk—”
“Risk what? Letting me have a life?”
Caleb’s gaze darkens a touch, irritation surfacing just enough to let me know he’s serious. “Don’t twist this. You know what I mean.”
I know exactly what he means, but I’m too frustrated to care.
“I’ve spent years making this work when it seemed impossible with Astrid. I built this career for myself despite that, and it gave me purpose outside of being a mother. I can’t just give that up.”
Caleb takes a small step closer, brows furrowed in a tangle of frustration and something awfully close to hurt. “So what happens when I need you here, or when the pack needs you?”
“I’ll still be here,” I return, not seeing what the problem is. “I’ll be in town, Caleb. Not on another island.”
