It sinks into the wood with the first try, and all the way by the fifth without it bending. Relief washes through me because not a single drop of blood was shed. The boys demand it’s their turn next, and I hand over the hammer and guide them as best I can.
I chew on my lip anxiously as they take it in turns with very close near misses of their fingers. “Whoa, whoa.” I step forward. “Not so fast. Do you want the hammer to go through your skin?”
“It’s fine, Evan,” the oldest dismisses me, and I raise my brows. “I’ve got this.”
The hairs on the back of my neck begin to stand, and my heart rate increases. I hold in a shudder as my wolf howls inside me, sensing that our mate is near. My eyes close, and I inhale abreath to calm myself. It doesn’t take long for gasoline to flood my senses, and before I know it, I hear his voice.
“Do you have a death wish? One of you is going to hurt yourself.”
I don’t dare turn around. I can’t. His voice has my skin tingling.
“It’s just a hammer, Alpha,” the youngest says. “We’ve dealt with worse.”
Caleb scoffs, and as soon as I feel his presence beside me, I can’t deny myself a glance for a second more. His face is struck like thunder, eyebrows tight and mouth pinched.
“Why are your fingers at the top of the nail? You’re going to obliterate them,” Caleb grumbles as he leans forward and rips the hammer from his hands.
“But you said we could build a treehouse.”
Caleb’s nostrils flare. “With a responsible adult present.”
My mouth falls open. “Excuse me, I am an adult.”
His green eyes fly to mine and glow with irritation. “Responsible is the keyword here. You’re just as bad as they are. Have you ever used a hammer before?”
I part my lips and contemplate lying, but I stop myself.
Caleb’s brows raise when I don’t respond. “Exactly.”
My eyes narrow at his rudeness when he turns away and reaches for fresh nails. He takes a moment to explain how to do it safely without taking our fingers off.
“I think I’ve got it. Can I try now?” the oldest says with bright eyes.
“Knock yourself out, kid.”
Caleb repeats himself and gives him step-by-step instructions, which is ridiculous because the task isn’t rocket science, but I say nothing and watch.
“Okay…” Caleb trails off. “To your left a bit.”
“My left or your left?”
His jaw clenches. “Ourleft.”
“Here?”
“Yeah,” he sighs as he holds the plank of wood tight. “One solid hit and it’ll go straight in. Got it?”
The kid pokes his tongue into the corner of his mouth as he mutters, “Uh-huh.”
“Go.”
I study the nail and tense as he pulls it away from the wood and then swings the hammer. Caleb’s voice echoes in my ears as he shouts, but I don’t hear what he says as the nail goes straight through the middle of his hand instead, pinning him to the wood.
There’s a burst of discomfort that floods my stomach, along with deep, growing irritation. Caleb’s emotions are intense and nauseating, but I’m not sure if the sickness side is coming from me, considering he has a nail hanging out of the back of his hand.
Blood seeps out of the wound, and Caleb releases a deep groan that I feel in my veins. The boy steps back and claps a hand over his mouth, dropping the hammer at his feet in the process.
“Motherfucker,” Caleb roars.
