40. Fae
FAE
It’s strangely sweet.
Honestly, the last two weeks have felt like living inside a fever dream.
One minute I was laughing at Roman in a delivery room and the next I was bringing an actual tiny human home with us. A tiny human who somehow eats every two hours, cries like he pays rent and already has every person in our lives wrapped around his little finger.
Including me.
Especially me.
I sink further into the sofa with a quiet groan as my body finally starts feeling human again.
Nobody tells you how brutal recovery is after birth.
Everybody talks about the baby and the contractions and the glowing motherhood bullshit, but nobody warns you that afterwards it feels like your body has been set on fire.
For the first week I genuinely thought I might never walk normally again.
Thankfully Roman decided postpartum recovery was now a group project. The man has barely let me lift a finger since Finn arrived. He practically forces me back into bed every time I stand and became personally offended when I tried to do a night feed alone three days ago.
“You carried him for nine months,” he’d snapped whilst taking Finn from my arms. “The least I can do is lose some fucking sleep.”
The memory makes me smile into the blanket curled around my legs. I glance back toward Atlas as Finn lets out a tiny sleepy noise against his chest.
“You know,” I murmur, “I never thought I’d see you voluntarily wearing a tracksuit.”
Atlas looks down at his black Nike joggers and matching dark hoodie like he’s genuinely confused by the question.
“I have to now, for Finn.”
I frown. “How does that make any sense?”
“Comfortable clothing improves reaction speed in emergencies,” he shrugs as best as he can.
“He’s two weeks old, Atlas. What emergencies could he possibly have?”
Atlas looks genuinely confused by the question. “Literally everything to do with him is an emergency.”
A laugh bursts from me just as the front door opens and Roman’s voice immediately carries through the house.
“No, I don’t care what Parson said,” he snaps down the phone whilst heavy footsteps move toward the lounge. “Push the meeting until Monday because I’m not—”
He appears in the doorway and stops dead. His eyes land on me first automatically before softening and his dimples pop out when he smiles. Then they flick toward Atlas.
Toward Finn.
And the softness in them immediately disappears.
“…Excuse me,” he says flatly into the phone.
Before either of us can react, he hangs up, storms across the lounge and carefully but firmly removes Finn straight out of Atlas’ arms.
“No,” he barks, “one time! I gave you one time! That is all you’re allowed.”
Atlas blinks, opening and closing his mouth before looking down at his empty arms still frozen in the position of holding a baby.
Then he slowly looks back up at me. Roman turns on his heel before carrying Finn over to me.
Our son barely even grumbles as Roman presses a quick kiss against the top of his head before placing him gently into my arms and leaning down to kiss me.
“How are my babies?” he murmurs against my mouth.
“I wouldn’t know. Our son’s being kidnapped repeatedly,” I smile.
“Exactly my point,” he narrows his eyes as I roll mine.
“Leave them alone.”
“Never,” he stage whispers, “I have to work. Stay here and I’ll bring you some food.”
“Okay,” I smile as he kisses both mine and Finn’s head before standing to his full height.
He grabs his phone before disappearing into the kitchen muttering something about people being “too comfortable touching his child”. The second he vanishes through the doorway, Atlas calmly walks straight over and lifts Finn back out of my arms. I stare at him. Atlas stares back.
“…Did you just wait for him to leave?”
“Yes.”
A laugh escapes me. “Is he ever going to get used to people holding Finn?”
“Did he get used to people hugging you?” Atlas replies whilst settling back into the armchair with Finn tucked carefully against his chest again.
“Well, when you put it like that,” I muse just as Riggs walks into the lounge holding a packet of biscuits.
“There’s my favourite nephew,” he gasps before making his way across the room to make a grab for Finn.
Atlas physically turns his body in the chair to get away from him.
“Don’t even think about it,” he whisper-hisses.
Riggs freezes. “Excuse me?”
“I have only just got him back,” Atlas says calmly whilst moving Finn slightly further against his chest. “Wait your turn.”
I blink at the sight of Atlas silently hoarding a newborn baby like a dragon protecting treasure and Riggs looks equally horrified by the betrayal.
“You’re all fucking insane,” I laugh.
“I’m insane?” Riggs repeats whilst pointing toward Atlas. “He just stole my nephew.”
“He stole him back,” Atlas corrects calmly.
“That implies ownership.”
Atlas glances down at Finn sleeping peacefully against his chest and a smile tugs at his lips as he lifts his large hand to run a finger down his soft cheek. “Correct.”
Riggs dramatically drops onto the floor beside the armchair with a heavy thud. One of his arms lands across Atlas’ legs whilst he stares up at Finn like he’s being denied visitation rights.
“You’re a selfish bastard,” Riggs mutters.
I snort into the blanket wrapped around my legs whilst Riggs screws his face up like Atlas has deeply offended him.
Honestly, watching a group of emotionally damaged killers argue over holding a newborn baby might be one of the funniest things I’ve ever witnessed.
Finn squirms softly against Atlas’ chest and Riggs immediately lifts his head.
“There’s my favourite little man,” he whispers.
The second he reaches toward Finn, Roman walks back into the lounge.
And immediately stops dead. The atmosphere changes so quickly it almost gives me whiplash.
He’s still holding his phone in one hand and a bowl of pineapple in the other, but all of his attention locks onto Finn.
More specifically: Riggs reaching for Finn’s tiny hand.
Roman’s jaw twitches.
“No,” he says instantly.
Riggs freezes halfway as Atlas slowly looks up. Roman ends the call without even looking at his phone before tossing it onto the sofa beside me.
“I leave for five fucking minutes and suddenly everybody’s got their hands on him?”
“Roman,” I start carefully.
“No because I specifically removed him from Atlas,” he continues whilst stalking further into the lounge. “Why is he being passed around like a fucking rugby ball?”
Riggs immediately lifts both hands in surrender. “I haven’t even touched him yet.”
“You were about to.”
Roman’s eyes stay fixed on Finn the entire time and I can see the tension pulling through his shoulders from here. He takes another step toward Atlas and I inhale sharply.
“Roman,” I say loudly and his head snaps toward me. “Come here.”
His jaw shifts and I hate how overwhelmed he suddenly looks standing there. The bowl is clenched too tightly in one hand as his breathing turns shallow, and his eyes dart straight back toward Finn the second they leave mine.
“I need you next to me, Ro.”
And it breaks my heart a little because I know him well enough to understand what I’m asking.
Not just to walk away from Finn, but to ignore every instinct screaming through his body that is telling him to go and take our son back.
His fingers tighten harder around the bowl before he finally forces himself to move and walk over to the sofa.
He drops beside me with enough force that the cushions shift beneath him.
“Ro,” I murmur quietly as Riggs and Atlas start talking on the opposite side of the room.
I lift my feet to land across his legs and he wraps one hand around my ankles before massaging my foot. “He’s okay.”
“I know he’s okay,” he mumbles back in a tight voice. “I just don’t like people touching me. What if he’s like me and hates being touched?”
A sad understanding settles through me and so much of his behaviour over the years makes sense in a way it never fully has before.
I always knew Roman hated being touched by people, I knew he tolerated it rather than enjoyed it, but I don’t think I realised how deep it went until now.
With his HSAM he probably remembers all of it too.
Every uncomfortable hug. Every hand on his shoulder.
Every relative laughing and calling him dramatic when he pulled away from them as a kid.
Back then he wouldn’t have had the words to explain why it made his skin crawl so badly, why the wrong touch could leave him overwhelmed for hours afterwards, and now Finn is here tiny and defenceless whilst Roman is trying to protect him from feelings he can’t even explain yet.
“Okay, well does he look like he’s not enjoying it?” I whisper.
“No, but he is too young to understand it yet.”
“So, if he gets to the age where he doesn’t like it, we can put a stop to it, Ro, okay? But right now, our family can cuddle him. It is okay.” I lean in and kiss his cheek.
He turns into it before whispering against my mouth, “And nobody washes their fucking hands properly.”
Despite everything, a smile tugs at my mouth. “There’s a simple solution to that.”
“What’s that?”
“Riggs,” I call.
His head immediately pops up from beside Atlas’ legs. “Yeah?”
“Can you go wash your hands please?”
Roman side-eyes me suspiciously like he knows exactly what I’m doing. Riggs blinks once before slowly pushing himself up off the floor.
“Do I get to hold Finn if I do?”
Roman opens his mouth and I grab hold of his hand before squeezing it.
“Yes.”
Riggs points at Roman triumphantly before disappearing toward the downstairs bathroom muttering something about “finally earning custody rights.”
The second he’s gone Roman drops his head back against the sofa with a long exhale.
“You’re encouraging them,” he mumbles.
“I’m just letting him know he’s loved from an early age.”
Roman’s eyes flick back toward Finn curled against Atlas’ chest and something in his expression softens.
“I know,” he mutters.
The front door suddenly slams before Victor appears in the lounge looking absolutely exhausted. He takes one look at everybody before groaning dramatically and collapsing onto the sofa opposite us.
“Augh,” he mutters whilst rubbing a hand down his face. “Dad is pissing me the fuck off.”
“What’s Strickland done now?” Roman asks without taking his eyes off Finn.
“He’s decided the merger apparently can’t function unless everybody attends a six-hour meeting tomorrow.” Victor glares toward the ceiling. “Because obviously none of us have lives outside of him.”
Roman huffs out a laugh. “Should have seen him in the meeting yesterday. I thought I was going to have to call you up and say he’d died of an aneurysm.”
“Yeah?” Victor looks over at Roman. “Good fucking riddance.”
Atlas’ eyes lift toward Victor. “You don’t mean that.”
“I do. I miss school already.” Victor glances toward Atlas before finally noticing Finn. “…Can I hold the baby or is there a waiting list?”
“There’s a fucking application process,” Roman mutters.
Victor snorts just as Riggs reappears holding both hands in the air.
“Clean,” he announces proudly. “Used soap and everything.”
Roman visibly tenses as Atlas calmly stands and walks over.
“Support his head properly,” Roman says immediately.
“I know how babies work.”
“You dropped your phone in a toilet last week,” Roman deadpans.
Riggs purposely ignores Roman as Atlas passes Finn carefully into Riggs’ arms. No matter how many times they hold him they act like it’s the first time, and I have to bite my lip to stop the smile threatening to creep across my face.
The second Finn settles against his chest, Riggs goes completely still.
“Oh,” he breathes quietly.
For all the blood, lies and contracts that built this family, it’s moments like this that make it feel worth it.
“Better?” I whisper as I lean into Roman.
“No,” he mutters honestly.
A laugh escapes me before I lean over and kiss him, and he chases my mouth instantly as every ounce of tension in his body melts beneath mine like he’s been waiting for it all day.
His hand slides against my jaw automatically whilst he kisses me back slower this time, softer, and when I finally pull away his forehead drops briefly against mine.
“I love you,” he murmurs quietly.
“I love you too.”
A car door slams outside. I separate from Roman as I lean forward and try to look through the front window to see who it is.
I can’t see though so I relax back against the sofa.
It doesn’t last long. The front door slams open so hard that it rattles through the entire house.
All the boys jump into action. Riggs moves before I can even process what’s happening, quickly passing Finn back into my arms whilst the rest of the boys form a wall of bodies around us.
My heart rate spikes so fast it makes me dizzy as I bite my lip and scan the exits.
I breathe a sigh of relief as I see Robyn stumble into the lounge. It isn’t until I hear Victor shout “fuck” that my brain fully processes what is in front of me. She is covered in blood. There is so much that my brain struggles to process what I’m looking at.
“Robyn?” I breathe.
Atlas is already moving toward her whilst Roman stays in front of me. Her chest heaves violently as tears streak through the blood covering her face and when her eyes finally lock onto us a painful ache twists in my chest.
“Help,” she cries brokenly. “Help, it’s Felix.”