Chapter 3 #3
“Uh – right, it’s really good, Alpha. And Blossom keeps making sweets.” I hold them up as Grayson’s fingers drift absently through Blake’s curls. “There were some estimates that came in, though, and they’re costing a lot more than I had planned.” I sigh, hating how much I’m costing my family.
They keep telling me it’s okay. Blake keeps saying that this is something worth working toward but I still feel like we’re sinking all of Blake’s profits into my little dream.
The air changes even through the screen.
Blake stills in Luther’s lap, the food forgotten in his hand, and I watch his mind catch on the numbers before his mouth even opens.
His shoulders shift like he’s about to sit up, already reaching for budgets, cuts, transfers, whatever impossible fix he can pull together before anyone asks him to.
Luther catches him by the back of the neck, just enough to keep him where he is. “No, love. Listen before you start solving.”
Blake’s mouth tightens, but he stays in Luther’s lap. That alone tells me he’s tired, because Blake usually argues with his whole body before he argues with his words. “I need to see the estimate.”
“You will,” I tell him, leaning my shoulder into the sunroom doorway as the quiet of Ember House settles around me.
“But not right this second. Blossom mentioned that Lorenzo is already looking at the books for the therapy wing, and I’m meeting with your finance team tomorrow.
I just wanted you to know before it became another thing everyone was whispering around. ”
Blake glares at the camera and then his look softens again. “Wilson’s Beta? God, I love him.”
“You don’t even know him,” I laugh. We’ve gathered with Wilson’s pack three or four times over the years but aside from that, our schedules never match. Outside of business proposals and quick meetings, we haven’t been able to make it work.
Grayson clears his throat, dragging my attention to him. “The secure intake suites were always going to be expensive. We knew that when the plans changed.”
“I know,” I say, and I hate how small the words feel compared to the weight of the actual problem. “But getting calls from three counties over makes it feel different. We’re not expanding because it would be nice. We need those rooms. People are already asking for space we don’t have.”
Blake lowers the food to the plate beside him, his face shifting into that focused, distant look he gets when the company becomes less a place and more a map inside his head.
“We can move money from the launch events if we need to. The big press dinner is decorative anyway, and the influencer boxes are ridiculous. Half of them will end up in the trash.”
Luther’s thumb moves once against the back of his neck. “That’s exactly why Luca is meeting with finance tomorrow instead of letting you gut the marketing plan from my lap.”
“It’s my company.”
“And your body is currently in my lap because Grayson had to bring you food,” Luther says, his voice staying low and even. “So we’re going to let Luca handle the first conversation.”
Blake looks toward me through the screen, frustration and guilt tangled together behind his glasses. “I don’t want Ember House waiting because I’m stuck here eating a sandwich like a child.”
“You’re not stuck,” I say softly. “You’re being taken care of. There’s a difference.”
That lands harder than I mean it to. Blake’s eyes flicker, and for a second I see the exhaustion under everything else.
The work, the launch, the way he carries Keller Industries like it’s an extension of his own ribs.
I wish I were there to touch him. I wish I could press my nose to his curls and make him hear me through scent instead of a phone screen.
Grayson does it for me, bending enough to kiss the top of Blake’s head. “We’ll find the money. We always do. But Luca is right. You don’t have to be the first body thrown at every fire.”
Blake lets out a slow breath and leans back into Luther again. “I hate when all of you make sense.”
“I know,” Luther murmurs, kissing his temple. “It’s devastating for you.”
The corner of Blake’s mouth moves, but the humor doesn’t take over the moment.
He reaches for the plate again, more because Luther’s hand is still at his neck than because he wants the food.
“Send me the estimate after your meeting tomorrow. Not before, if that makes everyone stop staring at me like I’m about to sprint to my desk. ”
“You’re not going to sprint anywhere,” Grayson says, but there is affection threaded through the worry. “You’d make it three steps and then start wobbling again.”
Blake gives him a tired look. “I hate this family.”
“No, you don’t,” I say.
His gaze softens when it comes back to me. “No, I don’t.”
For a moment, nobody says anything. Grayson’s the one who eases the conversation somewhere gentler. “What time do you think you’ll be done there?”
“After the activity-room chaos settles. Maceo has the kids right now, so that could mean twenty minutes or three years.”
Luther’s brow lifts slightly. “How bad?”
I shrug. “I heard Rosalie is negotiating as the boss again, Samuel wants to look for frogs, and James brought tools.”
Blake straightens a little again, but this time it is less panic and more fatherly alarm. “What kind of tools?”
“The kind that won’t start a fire.”
He studies my face through the screen as if he can tell whether I’m protecting him from the truth. “That’s not as comforting as you think it is.”
“I know. But Maceo has them.”
That settles all three of them in different ways.
Luther’s shoulders ease first, because Maceo with the children means the perimeter is watched.
Grayson smiles, because he knows exactly how patient Maceo can be with a child demanding impossible things.
Blake relaxes last, but he does relax, his hand sliding back into Luther’s shirt as if he can anchor himself there.
“Good,” Blake says quietly. “Though, Rosalie will have him agreeing to cookies by dinner.”
“She might,” I admit.
“She will,” Luther teases. “She’s mine.”
The certainty in his voice makes me laugh softly, and some of the heaviness from earlier finally shifts. Grayson asks about dinner before we hang up, his voice quiet with the practical care of someone trying to make sure the day ends with everyone fed and in one place.
“What sounds good tonight, Luca?”