Chapter 21 Amelia
Amelia
I need to check on the kids first. Before I can think about anything else, before I can process what just happened with Raven, I need to make sure Riley and Isaac are okay.
The house is quiet when we get back, but it's not the peaceful kind of quiet.
It's the heavy, waiting silence that settles after something difficult has happened.
I take the stairs two at a time, my heart pounding, and find them in Riley's room, huddled together on her bed with Isaac's favorite truck clutched between them.
Riley looks up when I appear in the doorway, her eyes red-rimmed but dry. Isaac is pressed against her side, his thumb in his mouth—a habit he'd broken months ago but apparently returns when he's stressed.
"Hey," I say softly, stepping into the room. "You guys okay?"
Riley nods, but her chin wobbles. "Is she going to come back? Raven?"
"No." I cross to the bed and sit on the edge, reaching out to smooth Riley's hair back from her face. "Your dads won't let her near you. I won't let her near you. She's gone."
"She said mean things about you," Isaac says around his thumb, his words muffled but clear enough. "I didn't like it."
"I know, sweetheart. But those things weren't true, okay? Sometimes people say mean things when they're unhappy, but that doesn't make them true."
"Dad said that too," Riley says quietly. She's studying my face like she's trying to figure out if I'm lying, if I'm about to disappear like everyone else eventually does. "You're not leaving, right? Because of what she said?"
The question hits me right in the chest, stealing my breath. These kids have lost so much already. Their mother, their stability, nanny after nanny who didn't actually care about them. And now they're terrified I'm going to be one more person who walks away.
"I'm not leaving," I promise, pulling them both into a hug. Riley comes willingly, her small body pressing against my side. Isaac crawls into my lap, his truck digging into my ribs but I don't care. "I'm staying right here with you guys. For as long as you'll have me."
"Forever?" Isaac asks hopefully.
My throat tightens with emotion I can barely contain. "I hope so, sweetheart. I really hope so."
We sit like that for several minutes, the three of us tangled together on Riley's bed, and gradually I feel them both relax. Isaac's thumb slips out of his mouth. Riley's breathing evens out. The fear that was radiating off them in waves starts to dissipate.
"Why don't you guys watch a movie downstairs?" I suggest. "Something fun. I think your dads put on that one about the talking dogs you like."
"Will you watch with us?" Isaac asks, looking up at me with those big hazel-green eyes.
"In a little bit. I need to talk to your dads about something first, but then I'll come watch, okay?"
Riley nods slowly, sliding off the bed and taking Isaac's hand. "Come on, Isaac. Let's go see what Dad picked."
I watch them head downstairs, hand in hand, and the sight makes my chest ache. They shouldn't have to be this resilient, shouldn't have to comfort each other through fear and loss. They should just get to be kids.
By the time I make it back downstairs, my whole body is trembling with leftover adrenaline and emotions I can't quite name.
Raven's words keep echoing in my head, mixing with Vincent's voice until I can't tell which cruel assessment belongs to which person.
Temporary. Placeholder. Not good enough. Too broken to be worth the effort.
I bypass the living room where the kids are settled on the couch and head straight for the guest room, which feels like the only safe place right now, the only space where I can fall apart without an audience. But I only make it halfway down the hallway before Silas appears, blocking my path.
"Amelia." His voice is gentle but firm. "Don't hide. Not from us."
"I need—" My voice cracks. "I just need a minute. Please."
"You can have a minute," he agrees. "But take it in the living room with us. Let us help."
I want to argue, want to insist that I need to be alone, that I need space to process everything churning inside me.
But the truth is I'm terrified that if I hide away in my nest, I'll convince myself that everything Raven said was true.
That I'll talk myself out of this before I even give it a real chance.
"Okay," I whisper.
Silas guides me to the living room with a gentle hand on my lower back, announcing his presence before he touches me in a way that Dylan must have coached him on.
The kids are absorbed in their movie, curled up together on the couch under a blanket.
We settle in the adjacent sitting area, far enough away that they can't hear us but close enough that I can see them, reassure myself they're okay.
I sink onto the couch, my whole body shaking. The room feels too warm, my skin prickling with heat that has nothing to do with the temperature. My shirt sticks to my back with sweat that shouldn't be there, and there's a restless energy crawling under my skin that I can't quite shake.
Silas appears with a glass of water, pressing it into my hands with gentle insistence. "Drink. Slowly."
I take a sip, then another, the cool liquid helping ground me back in my body.
The glass is cold against my palms, almost too cold, making me shiver despite the heat.
He settles beside me on the couch, not touching yet, just present.
Waiting for permission the way they all do now, the way they've learned I need.
"She's wrong," Silas says quietly after a moment. "About everything she said. You know that, right?"
I want to believe him. God, I want to believe him so badly.
But Raven's accusations hit every insecurity I have, every fear I've been trying to push down and ignore.
What if I am just temporary? What if they realize I'm not worth the complications I bring?
What if the kids get attached and then I have to leave and I hurt them the way losing their mother hurt them?
"I don't know what I know anymore," I whisper, staring down at the water glass.
My hands are shaking so badly the water ripples.
"Everything's moving so fast. Two weeks ago I was just the nanny.
Now I'm sleeping in Wyatt's bed and kissing you in the kitchen and holding Hunter's hand at the park and I don't know what any of it means.
I don't know where I stand or what you want from me or if this is real or if I'm just convenient until something better comes along. "
The words tumble out in a rush, too honest and too vulnerable, but I can't hold them back anymore. The uncertainty is eating me alive, making it impossible to just accept the good things happening without waiting for them to be ripped away.
Silas is quiet for a long moment, and when I finally work up the courage to look at him, his expression is pained. Dark circles shadow his eyes, visible even behind his glasses. His jaw is tight with tension, but his hand when it reaches for mine is steady and warm.
"I'm sorry we've made you feel uncertain. That wasn't our intention."
"Then what was your intention?" The question comes out sharper than I mean it to, frustration bleeding through. "Because right now I feel like I'm in the middle of something I don't understand, trying to navigate dynamics I'm not equipped for, and I'm terrified of messing everything up."
"Silas?" Hunter's voice comes from the doorway, and I jump slightly despite myself. He notices, his expression tightening with something that looks like guilt. "Sorry. Didn't mean to startle you. Wyatt's getting the kids their snacks. We should all talk."
I nod, even though the idea of having this conversation with all three of them makes my stomach twist with nerves.
Another wave of heat washes over me and I resist the urge to fan myself.
But I need answers. I need to know what this is, what they want, what I'm allowed to want without being too much or asking for too much.
Wyatt joins us a few minutes later, settling on my other side while Hunter takes the chair across from us.
The leather creaks under his weight, and the sound makes me flinch before I can stop myself.
They're all watching me with varying degrees of concern, and I have to look away before the intensity of their attention makes me lose my nerve entirely.
The silence stretches, heavy and expectant, until I can't stand it anymore.
"I can't handle the uncertainty anymore," I say, my voice steadier than I feel. "I need to know what this is. What we're doing. What you want from me."
"We want to court you," Wyatt says immediately, like he's been waiting for permission to say it out loud. His hand finds mine, threading our fingers together. "Properly. All three of us."
The words should make me feel relieved, should answer the questions churning in my head. Instead, they just create new ones. "Court me how? Like a traditional pack courtship? Like what you had with Evie?"
The mention of her name shifts something in the room.
Hunter's expression closes off, those hazel eyes going distant.
Silas looks down at his hands, his jaw working like he's chewing on words.
Wyatt's hand tightens around mine, his thumb stroking circles that are probably meant to be comforting but just make me more aware of how warm my skin feels.
The ghost of her is still so present here, in every photo on the walls, in the kids upstairs, in the way these men move around the empty space where she used to be.