Chapter 21 Amelia #3
"I want to feel safe," I say slowly, working through it as I speak.
My throat feels tight, the words difficult to force out.
"Not just physically safe, but emotionally safe.
I want to be able to ask for what I need without being punished for it.
I want to be part of something real, something that lasts, something that doesn't disappear the moment things get hard. "
"That's what we want too," Silas says softly.
"I want to love the kids without worrying that caring about them is overstepping," I continue, the words coming faster now.
"I want to wake up in the morning and not immediately brace for disaster.
I want to kiss you without wondering if it's allowed.
I want to build something with you, all of you, without constantly second-guessing whether I deserve it. "
"You do deserve it," Hunter says with absolute certainty, and the conviction in his voice makes my eyes sting. "All of it and more."
"I want to try," I say, looking at each of them.
"I want to court properly, to take this slow and figure it out together.
But I need you to be patient with me. I'm going to panic sometimes.
I'm going to flinch at unexpected sounds and movements.
I'm going to doubt myself and probably ask for reassurance more than a normal person would.
I'm going to be difficult and complicated and messy. "
"We can handle difficult and complicated and messy," Wyatt says with a small smile. "We're pretty difficult and complicated and messy ourselves."
"The kids come first," I agree, echoing Silas's earlier statement. "Always. If at any point this isn't working for them, if they're upset or confused or hurting, we stop. We figure something else out. Their wellbeing is more important than what any of us want."
"Agreed." Hunter's expression softens slightly, approval written in the set of his shoulders.
The heat under my skin flares again and I shift uncomfortably. Wyatt notices immediately, his eyes sharpening with concern. "When was the last time you took your suppressants?"
"This morning," I say. "Same as always. I've been on them for years, they shouldn't be failing."
"Scent matches can override suppressants sometimes," Silas explains. "Especially if the match is strong enough. Your body is trying to cycle naturally because it's found compatible Alphas."
The clinical explanation should make me feel better but somehow makes it worse. My body is betraying me, deciding on its own what I'm ready for regardless of what my mind thinks.
"I need you to announce yourselves when you come around corners or approach from behind," I say, forcing myself to ask for what I need even though it feels ridiculous.
"Dylan and Maddox do it and it helps. Just say something so I know you're there.
I know it seems paranoid but it makes a difference. "
"Not paranoid," Silas corrects gently. "Practical. And yes, we can absolutely do that."
"I need time in my nest alone sometimes," I continue, working through the list I've been building in my head. "To recharge. Being around people constantly is exhausting even when they're people I love. It's not personal, I just need space occasionally."
"Understood." Wyatt nods. "What else?"
"I don't know yet," I admit. "I'm still figuring out what I need. But I'll tell you when I know. I promise I'll tell you."
"That's all we can ask for," Hunter says.
He shifts forward, moving to crouch in front of me so we're at eye level.
"I need you to promise me something else, though.
Promise that if any of us do something that scares you or reminds you of Vincent, you'll tell us immediately. We can't fix what we don't know about."
"I promise," I whisper, my throat tight with emotion.
"And we promise to do the same," he says. "To tell you what we need, what our boundaries are, what we're struggling with. You're right that this has to work for all of us. We're a team now. All four of us figuring this out together."
"Five," I correct softly. "Six, actually. The kids are part of this too. They get a say in what happens, in whether I stay, in how this family is built."
Something in Hunter's expression cracks open, vulnerability bleeding through the careful control he usually maintains. His hand comes up slowly, giving me time to pull away, and cups my face. His palm is warm against my cheek, rough with calluses, his thumb stroking gently. "Yeah. Six of us."
"We're going to mess this up sometimes," he continues, his voice low and rough. "All of us. We're going to say the wrong thing or push too hard or not push hard enough. But we'll figure it out together, okay? One step at a time."
"One step at a time," I repeat, the phrase feeling like a lifeline.
Wyatt shifts closer, his shoulder pressing against mine in the tight hallway space. He presses a kiss to my temple, his lips warm against my skin. "So it's official? You'll let us court you? Let us show you how much you mean to us?"
"Yes," I say, the word feeling both terrifying and right. "Yes, I want that."
Silas's hand finds mine, threading our fingers together.
His rain scent wraps around me, mixing with Wyatt's citrus and Hunter's cedar.
"We're going to prove to you that this is real.
That you're not temporary or a placeholder or any of the other lies Raven tried to plant in your head.
You're permanent, Amelia. If you'll let yourself be. "
The promise settles over me but my chest still feels tight with all the what-ifs and maybes. Hunter watches me with those knowing hazel eyes, and I can see he understands—that this conversation fixed some things but not everything. That I'm still scared, still waiting for something to go wrong.
"The kids are going to have questions," Hunter says, standing and offering me his hand to help me up. "When they notice us courting you, bringing you gifts, being more openly affectionate. We should figure out what we're going to tell them."
I let him pull me to my feet, steadying myself against his solid presence. "The truth. As much as they can handle for their ages. Riley especially is too smart to fool. She already knows something's happening between us. We should be honest with them."
"Agreed." Silas nods, standing and brushing off his jeans. "Though maybe we wait a bit, let them see that this is stable and real before officially tell the kids."
"That makes sense." I glance toward the living room, where I can hear the faint sounds of the movie still playing. "They've been through so much already. I don't want to disrupt their lives more than necessary."
"You're not disrupting anything," Wyatt says firmly, his hand finding the small of my back. "You're making their lives better. Making all our lives better."
The conviction in his voice makes my eyes sting with tears I refuse to let fall. I've cried enough today. Instead, I lean into his touch, drawing comfort from the steadiness of it.
"So what happens now?" I ask. "Where do we start?"
"Now?" Hunter's smile is small but genuine, transforming his usually serious face. "Now we just keep doing what we've been doing. Spending time together, learning each other, building trust. The courtship will develop naturally from there."
"And maybe," Wyatt adds with a grin, "I can take you on an actual date. Just the two of us. Something that doesn't involve kids or grocery stores or flour fights."
The idea makes my stomach flip with nervous excitement. "I'd like that."
"Good." He squeezes my waist gently. "Then it's settled. We're doing this. All of us, together."
"Tomorrow," Silas says, his dark eyes warm behind his glasses. "Tomorrow we start fresh. No more hiding, no more uncertainty. Just us figuring this out together."
"Tomorrow," I agree, the word feeling like a promise.
"But tonight," Wyatt adds, his voice dropping lower, more intimate, "tonight you're staying in my room again. No more guest room, Amelia. You sleep with us now."
The possessiveness in his voice should scare me. Instead, it makes something warm unfurl in my chest, something that feels dangerously like safety. Like belonging.
I nod, not trusting my voice, and let him guide me back toward the living room where the kids are waiting. Hunter walks beside us, his presence a solid comfort. Silas follows, his hand briefly touching my shoulder in that way he has of grounding me.
As we settle back with the kids, Isaac immediately crawling into my lap and Riley leaning against my side, I let myself feel it.
The weight of their trust, the warmth of the Alphas watching us, the possibility of something real and lasting spreading out before me like a path I'm finally brave enough to walk.
It's not a guarantee. It's not a promise that everything will be perfect. The fear is still there, coiled in my chest, waiting to remind me of all the ways this could go wrong.
But maybe, just maybe, it's enough to start with.
One day at a time.