Chapter 7
Chapter
Seven
SETH
And hell… I got it. I knew that feeling more than anyone. But my wife was exhausted, and it showed in the way her shoulders sagged even when she tried to smile.
“Ma,” I murmured, brushing Stormi’s cheek as she sat on the edge of the bed, trying to comfort Shiloh and keep her eyes open at the same time. “Let me take the boys for a while. You gotta rest.”
She blinked up at me slowly. “You sure? He’s been on ten all night.”
“I can handle ten,” I said, kissing her forehead. “I just need you to handle you.”
Stormi’s lips curved, soft and grateful. “Thank you, bae.”
So, I scooped up our two little hurricanes, one whining, one clinging, and carried them to the playroom. It took a minute to settle them. S3 kept looking over my shoulder like he was checking to make sure Stormi was okay, and Shiloh whined every time my chest didn’t feel like hers.
“I know, little man,” I sighed, rocking him as he fussed. “Your mama is magic. I miss her too.”
S3 plopped onto the alphabet rug with a dramatic flop. “Mama Stormi sleeping?”
“Yeah,” I said, handing him his controller. “And we gonna let her. Deal?”
He nodded, serious about it like he was really responsible for something.
Mama was in the kitchen cooking breakfast. Jo was cleaning the house from top to bottom and Rich went out to get more groceries and things Stormi would need.
I was in charge of the boys and keeping them quiet, and I was failing horribly at that.
S3 shouted at the video game he was playing, scaring Shiloh out of his sleep and the moment that boy locked eyes with me and realized I wasn’t his mama, the yell that came from his mouth screamed more than stranger danger.
I grabbed the bottle out of the warmer full of his mama’s breast milk, hoping this would soothe him for now.
“Baby boy, you good,” I whispered to Shiloh as he screamed to the top of his lungs, refusing to take the bottle.
I rocked him in the rocking chair, even stood and rocked and walked him. He wasn’t having it. Checking his diaper to make sure it wasn’t wet and even his diaper was good. He just was screaming.
“Can I help?”
Stormi’s voice floated into the room, soft but tired, and it cut straight through Shiloh’s screams. She stood in the doorway, hair messy, eyes heavy, but still the most beautiful thing I’d seen all damn day. The second Shiloh heard her voice, his cries shifted less anger, more need.
“I was trying not to wake you,” I said, crossing the room to her. I leaned in and pressed a slow kiss to her lips.
She kissed me back, soft but full of warmth. “I know… but the bed gets a lot colder when my boys aren’t there.”
I couldn’t help the smile that crept up. “Always tryna be cute,” I murmured.
Stormi smirked, but the moment I placed Shiloh in her arms, everything inside that little boy changed. His cries faded, then softened, then disappeared altogether. It was like he felt her heartbeat and instantly remembered he was safe.
She walked over to S3, bending slowly so she wouldn’t disturb the baby in her arms. “Hey, my love,” she whispered, kissing him on the forehead.
“Mama Stormi,” he whispered back with a grin.
Then she headed toward the rocking chair the same one I’d been sinking into not ten seconds ago and settled down with her spoiled ass son. And I swear, the moment her body touched the seat, Shiloh melted, arms relaxed, shoulders softened, and chest settled like he’d finally found his peace.
“Did he eat?” she asked, her eyes flicking toward the bottle sitting on the play table.
“I tried,” I said, moving closer and handing it to her. “He wasn’t having it.”
It was like Shiloh looked at that bottle, then back at Stormi, and turned away from it so dramatically we both couldn’t help a small laugh.
“He is so damn picky,” I muttered.
“He just wants his Mama,” she said softly.
And we both knew it was true. Stormi grabbed a receiving blanket and draped it over herself, shielding her breast from S3.
With the ease of someone who’d been doing this forever, she lifted her shirt, guided Shiloh close, and let him latch.
Instantly, he calmed. No crying, no fussing, just soft breaths and satisfied little gulps.
I leaned against the wall, shaking my head. “You see he already attached. Same effect you had on me.”
Stormi looked up at me, eyes warm. “So, it’s too late to try and run,” she teased.
But she knew it was the truth. Her presence, her touch… she was peace wrapped in skin.
Shiloh ate until his little eyes started fluttering shut. When he finished, she shifted him to her shoulder and burped him like it was nothing. A soft pat, a gentle rub that’s all it took for her to get that burp.
I laughed quietly. “See, now if that was me, I’d still be over here holding him up ’til dinnertime trying to get one little burp out.”
Stormi smiled, brushing her cheek against Shiloh’s head. “That’s why we balance each other,” she whispered. “You hold the chaos. I hold the calm.”
And damn… if that wasn’t the truest thing she’d ever said.
“I’m hungry!” S3 yelled, not really talking to anyone. Just whoever he thought would move the fastest.
I chuckled. “Grandma cooked. Let’s go downstairs and get breakfast.”
I gently lifted Shiloh from Stormi’s arms, cradling his little sleeping body, then reached for her hand. “Come on, ma.”
Stormi laced her fingers with mine as we headed toward the stairs, S3 bouncing ahead of us like he was starving and hadn’t eaten in days.
“You hungry, ma?” I asked, glancing back at her over my shoulder.
“I can eat,” she said with a small smile, her eyes never leaving Shiloh’s peaceful face.
The way she looked at him… man. I couldn’t even tell who was more in love, her or Shiloh. Honestly, I’d stopped competing. With both in my life, I was already winning. Our family was growing, and for the first time shit felt like it was getting back on track.
The moment we hit the bottom step, the front door swung open. Rich walked in like macho man struggling with a mountain of grocery bags, arms stretched out like he was performing some kind of balancing act.
“You got it?” I called out, handing Shiloh back to Stormi so I could help.
“Naw, you good. This everything,” he said through a laugh, wobbling but refusing to drop a single bag. “I refuse to make two trips.”
Stormi snickered behind me, shifting Shiloh in her arms. S3 raced toward the kitchen yelling, “Grandma! I hungry!”
Stormi shook her head, amused. “He definitely yours.”
“Don’t start,” I teased, brushing a hand over her waist before heading toward Rich.
The morning felt warm, full, loud, a little chaotic but it was ours. And damn… I loved every second of it.
Jo came over immediately, barely letting Rich set the bags down before she started unloading everything. Fridge door swinging open, pantry shelves filling up like clockwork.
“Ready to eat?” my mom asked S3 the second he ran up to her.
“Jo, can we eat outside by the pool like last time?” S3 begged, tugging on her hand with all his strength.
Jo laughed. “Boy, you don’t ever get tired of swimming?”
“Pool!” he insisted, already pulling her toward the patio doors.
She grabbed two plates off the counter and a couple of juice boxes, shaking her head as she followed him outside. “Alright, come on, Mr. Bossy.”
Stormi chuckled softly.
My mom turned toward her next. “Everybody’s food is ready. I’ll take Mr. Mans here and put him in his crib so you can eat in peace.”
Stormi hesitated for half a breath, she always missed him even when she needed a break, but she nodded gratefully. “Thank you.”
Mama gathered Shiloh gently, adjusting his little head on her shoulder before carrying him out of the kitchen like she’d been rocking babies since the beginning of time.
I swear… that boy was in a different pair of arms every minute. And the crazy part is he loved it.
I set Stormi’s plate at the table, then mine right beside hers. “Sit down, ma,” I said softly, pulling her chair out. Once she sat, I poured both glasses of orange juice, sliding hers in front of her before taking my seat.
Rich grabbed his plate, rubbing his hands together dramatically. “Man, I’m starving.”
“Same,” I muttered.
That was the last thing anyone said. The three of us dove into our breakfast like it was a competition. Heads down, forks working overtime, no conversation, not even a glance up. Just straight quiet appreciation for mama’s cooking and the kind of hunger that comes after a long night with a newborn.
Stormi broke the silence first, letting out a soft hum of satisfaction. “Lord… this so good.”
I smirked. “Mama don’t miss.”
Rich pointed his fork without looking up. “Ain’t a single bad plate ever come outta that kitchen.”
We kept eating, the room warm, peaceful, filled with nothing but plates clinking and soft laughter from outside. And for a moment, everything felt damn near perfect.
Knock. Knock.
The sound echoed throughout the house, sharp enough to freeze all of us mid-bite.
“I got it! Don’t worry about it!” my mama hollered from the staircase.
Rich didn’t even look up as he chewed on bacon. “Ain’t nobody but Southside ass,” he mumbled.
I smirked, lifting my orange juice while watching Stormi from across the table. “Right. The only Black person I know who got a key and only uses it for emergencies.”
Stormi caught me staring and gave me a soft, shy smile.
I knew she needed time to heal. Her body was still recovering but that didn’t stop the way my mind drifted.
The way she looked in my T-shirt, the way her curves still called me, the way I wanted her on top of me again so bad it hurt… but before I could enjoy the moment.
“Seth!” my mom screamed.
Her voice sliced straight through me.
Rich and I jumped up like we’d rehearsed the move, damn near knocking chairs over as we ran toward her. Stormi followed quickly, worry etched across her face.