Wyatt’s mouth quirks. “It’s borderline creepy, Commander.”
“Watch your tone,” I mutter, but my attention is already back on Kayley.
She’s sitting cross-legged on the floor beside Harper, her cheeks flushed, hair loosely twisted up, wearing one of my old hoodies like it’s hers. She doesn’t look like someone running anymore.
She looks like someone… settling.
And that’s dangerous. Because if she settles, she might decide she can stay. And if she stays, I’m going to want to keep her.
Keep them.
Boyd walks through the room carrying two mugs of coffee and pauses long enough to set one down near Kayley’s knee without saying a word.
Kayley looks up, startled, then smiles. “Thank you.”
Boyd gives a short nod and keeps moving like he didn’t just do something kind and domestic that would’ve made his past self cringe.
Chase saunters by, points at Aidan. “That one’s got Gavin’s scowl.”
Kayley snorts. “Aidan does not scowl.”
Chase crouches and makes a ridiculous face at the baby. Aidan responds by letting out a squeal and flailing his arms like he’s trying to slap Chase into next week.
Harper laughs. “Okay, that’s definitely Rafe’s attitude.”
Rafe grumbles, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Kayley looks up at me, eyes warm. “Is this what you all do? Pretend you’re tough while secretly acting like a bunch of… baby uncles?”
“We’re not uncles,” Chase says, offended. “We’re highly trained tactical support personnel.”
Harper deadpans. “For diaper duty.”
The room laughs—actual, full-bodied laughter—and for a moment it almost makes me forget the perimeter test last night.
Almost.
Then Wyatt’s screen pings.
The sound snaps the air back into place.
Wyatt’s posture changes immediately—spine straight, fingers moving fast. Rhett’s gaze sharpens. Rafe’s face closes down into commander-mode even if he isn’t wearing the title anymore.
And my gut tightens.
“What is it?” I ask.
Wyatt’s eyes flick to mine. “Silas is here.”
Like he sensed the shift, the sheriff’s boots thud across the hardwood a second later. Silas steps inside, snow clinging to the brim of his hat, the cold following him like a shadow.
He nods at the men, then his gaze lands on the babies, softening just a fraction. On Kayley, it sharpens again—protective.
He comes straight to me.
“We need to talk,” he says quietly.
I glance at the blanket. Kayley’s still laughing at something Harper said, unaware. I don’t want to bring darkness into that circle.
