12. Nora
NORA
Iam already overwhelmed before seven in the morning.
That feels impressive considering the day technically hasn’t even started yet.
The kitchen table is covered in paperwork from Paxton’s school application while half our unpacked boxes still crowd the living room.
I can’t find his sneakers anywhere, the coffee tastes burnt because I forgot about it twice, and the new work laptop sitting unopened on the counter feels vaguely threatening every time I look at it.
Meanwhile, Paxton sits cross-legged in the middle of the living room floor, happily organizing crayons by color like none of this exists.
I move through the house quickly trying to keep myself focused instead of irritated. Mostly irritated with myself.
Because it has been two days. Two days since Stryker, Viper, and Blade were here.
Two days since they fixed the hallway floor and ate grilled cheese in my kitchen and somehow inserted themselves into the rhythm of my life so naturally that their absence now feels noticeable.
Which is ridiculous. Completely ridiculous. I should be relieved by the distance. Instead I keep catching myself listening for motorcycles outside.
That realization annoys me enough that I aggressively shove another stack of paperwork into Paxton’s backpack harder than necessary.
Mom, I think you are mad at paper, Paxton signs from the floor.
Despite myself, I laugh quietly. Maybe I am.
He grins before holding up two different blue crayons seriously. These are almost the same color. That feels suspicious.
You are five years old and already dramatic.
I learned from you.
“That seems unlikely,” I mutter automatically before signing the words too.
Paxton beams proudly like he won something.
The private school meeting starts in an hour and I still haven’t decided if I should wear jeans or try harder than jeans.
I don’t know what parents at expensive Black Rock private schools look like.
Rich probably. Stable. Definitely not women who drove across the country with their entire life shoved into a dying SUV.
My stomach twists again thinking about the meeting.
Stryker actually followed through.
Part of me genuinely expected the offer to quietly disappear once real life resumed and whatever strange emotional intensity existed between us at the roadside wore off.
Instead, he apparently called the principal personally yesterday morning, before stopping by briefly with enrollment information and directions.
Then he vanished.
Shipping business, Blade called it.
I don’t know what exactly their company ships, but apparently it keeps them busy enough to disappear randomly for days at a time.
Honestly, that should probably concern me more than it does. I move toward the sink to rinse out Paxton’s travel cup while mentally running through everything we still need before leaving—and accepting that I likely won’t be showering this morning.
Shoes.
Folder.
Insurance papers.
Snack—
The faucet explodes.
Ice-cold water sprays directly into my chest hard enough that I gasp while the pipe beneath the sink gives a loud metallic groan. Water immediately starts pouring across the counter and down onto the floor in heavy sheets.
“No, no no no?—”
I shove the faucet sideways instinctively which somehow makes the spray worse. Behind me, Paxton startles upright immediately.
What happened?
The sink broke.
His eyes widen dramatically while I drop to my knees trying to figure out where the shutoff valve even is under the sink. Water soaks through my sweater almost instantly while panic starts climbing steadily higher in my chest.
Of course this happens now.
The house is old. Everything inside it feels one hard breath away from collapsing. I knew that coming in, but living inside the reality of it is different.
I finally find the valve and twist hard enough my wrist hurts before the water slows to a dripping sputter. Silence settles heavily afterward except for water dripping onto the tile floor.
I stare at the disaster around me. Towels already soaked.
Paperwork dangerously close to getting ruined. Half my kitchen flooded before eight in the morning. Something inside me wobbles dangerously.
Paxton waves his hands at me before signing Mom? Are you okay?
I inhale sharply before forcing myself upright and signing calmer than I feel. Everything is okay. I just need towels.
Paxton immediately scrambles to help, because of course he does. He’s been helping me survive since he was old enough to carry things.
The thought hurts unexpectedly today. I grab more towels from the hallway closet while mentally recalculating everything. We still need to leave in forty minutes. I still need to shower. Paxton still needs shoes.
I still don’t know how much plumbing repairs cost. Three thousand dollars. That’s all I have left until my first paycheck hits. Three thousand dollars standing between us and complete disaster.
A knock hits the front door. I look toward the door and freeze automatically. That was a mistake because it lets Paxton know there’s someone at the door and before I can even react, Paxton bolts toward it.
I try to grab him knowing calling out will do no good, but he’s out of reach far too quickly.
I hear the door swing open just as I’ve scrambled round the corner from the kitchen still dripping sink water across the floor behind me.
Then I hear a familiar rough laugh.
Viper walks into the house carrying Paxton upside down over one shoulder while my son wheezes silent laughter so hard his whole body shakes. Blade follows behind them carrying a paper takeout bag with EARLY MORNING DINER stamped across the front in red letters.
Both men look up simultaneously when they see me. And God help me, relief slams through me so fast it almost feels physical. Which immediately terrifies me.
“Morning,” Viper says easily, shifting Paxton before he drops him accidentally. “Tiny gremlin answered the door.”
I am not a gremlin, Paxton signs indignantly from upside down.
“You definitely are.”
Blade’s stops signing for Viper and Paxton and attention shifts immediately past me toward the kitchen. “Why is there water everywhere?”
I glance back automatically. “The sink broke.”
Within two seconds his expression changes completely from casual to focused.
“Where?”
“In the kitchen.”
He sets breakfast down immediately before heading past me without another word.
Viper watches him disappear around the corner before nodding once like this is expected behavior. “Yeah, he’s not gonna stop until he fixes that.”
“I don’t need him fixing my sink.”
“You absolutely do,” Viper says honestly. “You look like you’re about five minutes from mentally fist fighting the universe.”
I open my mouth to argue. Then stop, because honestly, he’s not wrong.
Viper shifts Paxton upright finally before setting him carefully onto his feet. “Did you already get him dressed?”
“Yes.”
“Cool.” He points toward the hallway. “Go get ready.”
I blink at him. “What?”
“You look stressed,” he says plainly. “Blade’ll fix the sink. I’ll make sure the kid eats breakfast. You go take a shower and breathe for ten minutes.”
Something inside me immediately resists the suggestion. Probably because it sounds suspiciously close to being taken care of.
“I can handle it.”
“I know you can.” His tone stays frustratingly calm. “But you don’t have to right this second.”
Behind us, I hear cabinet doors opening in the kitchen followed by Blade muttering something about pipe fittings under his breath. A second later the water turns on briefly before shutting off again.
Like he already understands my house better than I do.
The weirdest part is how naturally both men settled into the chaos without hesitation. That should probably make me more uncomfortable than it does. Instead I mostly feel tired enough to cry from relief, which is somehow worse.
Mom, they brought pancakes, Paxton signs excitedly while tugging on my sleeve.
Viper grins. “See? Priorities.”
I rub both hands briefly over my face trying to get myself together.
“You guys really don’t have to keep rescuing me from household disasters.”
“Good thing we enjoy it then.”
“That feels concerning.”
“Probably.”
I hate how easily he makes me smile. Especially because six years later, Viper somehow looks even more dangerous relaxed inside my kitchen than he did half naked in a hotel suite.
His dirty blond hair is longer now than it used to be, pushed back messily from his face like he ran his hands through it too many times already today.
He’s broader too. Older in a way that somehow sharpened him instead of softening him.
And unlike Stryker, Viper wears ease naturally. Like nothing rattles him which I’m increasingly starting to suspect is complete bullshit.
“Where’s Stryker?” I ask before I can stop myself.
The question comes out too quickly. Viper notices immediately. Unfortunately.
“Miss him already?” he asks lightly.
“No.”
The answer comes fast enough to make him laugh quietly.
“Relax,” he says. “He’s handling shipping problems near Miami.”
I nod. “Oh, okay. I hope things are good.”
“He’ll be back soon,” Blade calls from the kitchen.
Something warm settles strangely in my chest at the reassurance. Absolutely not.
I straighten immediately. “Okay well…thank you for breakfast and the help.”
“You’re welcome,” Blade answers while sliding halfway out from beneath the sink. “Now go shower before you’re late.”
I stare at him for a second. Then at the open toolbox already spread across my kitchen floor. Then at Paxton happily unpacking pancakes beside Viper like this is completely normal behavior.
Somewhere along the way, my house stopped feeling empty. That realization unnerves me enough that I almost tell them both to leave purely on instinct. Instead I exhale slowly.
“Thank you,” I say quietly.
Viper waves me off immediately while opening syrup containers for Paxton. “Go. You’ve got approximately fifteen minutes before I start teaching him emotionally devastating sarcasm.”
I already know sarcasm, Paxton signs proudly.
“That’s my fault,” I mutter automatically while signing it too.
Paxton beams.
Blade glances over his shoulder toward us then, sleeves shoved up his forearms while working beneath the sink. “He definitely gets that from you.”
The ease in his voice catches me off guard. Because I can feel myself starting to relax around them, despite every instinct screaming that I should keep my distance instead. I back slowly toward the hallway before I can overthink it further.
“Okay,” I say finally. “I’m taking a shower.”
“Good choice,” Viper says immediately.
I narrow my eyes at him once before heading toward the bathroom. Halfway down the hall, Paxton calls for my attention with a sharp little vocal sound.
When I turn back, he signs enthusiastically, Blade fixed the sink and Viper brought pancakes. This is a good morning now.
My chest tightens unexpectedly. Because the terrifying thing is, part of me agrees.