~ Bonus Chapter 6 ~
(This is a between chapter - before their baby girl was born)
By the time Reed realized something was wrong, it was already too quiet.
The kind of quiet that didn't mean peace.
The kind of quiet that meant destruction.
He looked up from the stove just in time to see his three-year-old son standing on a chair, both hands plunged deep into the open flour bag Eva had foolishly left on the counter.
Alexander looked up, eyes wide and bright blue—Reed's exact eyes, unfortunately—grinning like he'd just unlocked a life achievement.
"Alex," Reed said slowly.
White dust puffed into the air as Alexander clapped his hands together.
Reed swore under his breath.
Eva leaned against the fridge, coffee in hand, watching the scene unfold like she'd already accepted her fate. "Well," she said calmly, "at least he didn't use the honey this time."
Reed stared at his son. "Why are your hands... like that?"
Alexander beamed. "Snow."
"It is not snow," Reed said. "It is baking flour."
Alexander blinked. "Snow."
Eva laughed, full and warm, the kind of laugh that always undid Reed faster than anything else. She set her mug down and walked over, crouching in front of their son.
"Buddy," she said gently, wiping a floury thumb from his cheek, "we don't play with food."
Alexander pouted for approximately two seconds before leaning forward and wrapping his arms around her neck, leaving white handprints all over her shirt.
Reed watched it happen in slow motion.
"Traitor," he muttered.
Eva hugged Alexander back without hesitation, pressing a kiss to his temple. "You okay, baby?"
"Yes, Mama."
Reed folded his arms. "I have been speaking for ten minutes."
Alexander glanced at him. "You big."
Eva bit her lip.
Reed sighed. "I am aware."
This was fatherhood, he'd learned. Not authority. Not intimidation. Just vibes—and apparently Eva had better ones.
After the kitchen was semi-clean and Alexander had been stripped down and wiped off like a crime scene, Reed found himself sprawled on the living room floor, building the same tower of wooden blocks for the fourth time.
Alexander knocked it over immediately.
Reed didn't even flinch.
"Again," Alexander demanded.
"Again," Reed echoed, already rebuilding.
Eva watched from the couch, legs tucked beneath her, heart doing that soft, swelling thing it did every time she saw Reed like this. He didn't rush. Didn't sigh. Didn't check his phone. He was fully there—on the floor, knees creaking, hands steady, giving their son his full attention.
"You know," she said lightly, "you said you weren't a kid person."
Reed glanced up. "I lied."
Alexander plopped into his lap, sticky fingers grabbing Reed's face with zero warning. Reed winced but didn't pull away, just held his son's wrists gently.
"Gentle," he reminded softly.
Alexander nodded seriously and then immediately headbutted Reed's chest.
Eva laughed so hard she had to cover her mouth.
Later, bedtime rolled around with the same familiar resistance. Pajamas were refused. Teeth were brushed under protest. A meltdown occurred because the dinosaur pajamas were "wrong" even though they were identical to the ones Alexander wore the night before.
Reed knelt in front of him, voice low and steady. "You need sleep, buddy."
"No," Alexander declared. "Mama."
Eva appeared instantly.
Reed gave her a look. "You're not allowed to rescue him every time."
Eva crouched beside them, smoothing Alexander's hair. "I'm not rescuing. I'm reinforcing."
Alexander crawled into her lap, face buried in her neck.
Reed stood there, hands on hips, watching his son melt completely.
"She's your favorite," Reed accused.
Alexander nodded without shame. "Mama safe."
Eva's chest tightened.
Reed swallowed hard.
When Alexander was finally asleep—one hand clutching Eva's fingers, the other resting on Reed's wrist—Reed stayed there longer than necessary, watching his son's chest rise and fall.
"I get it now," he murmured quietly.
Eva leaned into his side. "Get what?"
"This," he said. "Why my dad was always tired. Why my mom never stopped worrying. Why loving something this small feels... terrifying."
Eva rested her head against his shoulder. "It's because they matter."
Reed wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close. "You're such a good mom."
Eva looked up at him, eyes soft. "You're a really good dad."
He smiled, small and real. "I just try to be what he needs."
Eva squeezed his hand. "That's exactly it."
Later that night, after the house finally settled, Eva curled against Reed on the couch, her feet tucked under his thigh, his hand resting warm and familiar at her waist.
Alexander stirred once down the hall, murmuring in his sleep.
Reed didn't move.
Neither did Eva.
They just stayed there, breathing together, surrounded by the mess and noise and quiet magic of a life they'd built.
A boy who looked like him.
A woman who felt like home.
And a love that somehow kept growing—even in flour-covered kitchens and sleepless nights.