Chapter 22 Silas
Silas
The kitchen is warm with the smell of whatever Amelia made for dinner tonight, something with garlic and herbs that lingered long after we finished eating.
She was supposed to go to her brother’s but they ended up coming over here, the chaos of having a full house really starting to settle in my bones. Just like old times.
Now that the house is quiet again, Dylan and Maddox gone, I'm sitting at the table with my laptop, pretending to work on reports that are due next week, but mostly I'm just listening to the sounds coming from the living room.
Amelia's voice carries through the open doorway, animated and bright as she tells Isaac some elaborate story about a princess and a dragon.
Riley interjects periodically with corrections or additions, her input making Amelia laugh in that genuine way that still catches me off guard every time I hear it.
Isaac's giggles punctuate the narrative, pure and unselfconscious in the way only a four-year-old can manage.
I can catch her scent from here. Rose petals and something sweeter, warmer than usual.
The blockers are definitely failing, her pre-heat progressing faster than any of us expected.
It makes my Alpha instincts sit up and take notice, makes me want to go to her, to make sure she's comfortable, cared for. Protected.
It's been like this for days now, this gradual opening of spaces I'd closed off after we lost Evie.
I find myself in the kitchen when Amelia's in the living room instead of hiding in my study.
I come home earlier from the base, making excuses about completed work or meetings that got canceled, when the truth is I just want to be here.
Want to hear the laughter filling the house again, want to see Riley coming out of her shell bit by bit, want to watch Amelia move through our space like she belongs here.
Because she does belong here. I've known it since that morning in the kitchen when I kissed her, when Wyatt was holding her and I couldn't stay away anymore.
Known it even before that, if I'm being honest with myself.
From the first flour fight, from the first time I saw her with the kids, from the moment she started talking to Evie's photographs like my wife was still here to hear her.
She honors Evie's memory without trying to erase it. She makes space for our grief while also bringing joy back into our lives. It's a balance I didn't think was possible, but Amelia manages it with a grace that makes my chest ache.
I'm good at compartmentalizing. It's what made me successful in military intelligence, what helped me survive the first months after Evie died. But Amelia is breaking down every wall I've built, and instead of terrifying me, it feels like relief.
The only shadow is the phone call with Dylan yesterday. The restraining order paperwork is ready, all it needs is Amelia's signature. Which means we'll have to tell her soon that Vincent is still out there, still searching. My jaw clenches at the thought. We'll handle it. Together. But not tonight.
I drag a hand through my hair, exhaling slowly through my nose. Tonight is about this, about the warmth and laughter filling our home again. Tomorrow we can deal with Vincent and legal documents and all the complications that come with protecting what's ours.
The sound of footsteps on the stairs pulls my attention from my laptop.
Hunter and Wyatt are both working late tonight, Hunter at a construction site that's behind schedule and Wyatt consulting on some case that apparently couldn't wait until morning.
Amelia had agreed to stay longer without hesitation, settling in with the kids after dinner like it was the most natural thing in the world.
I close my laptop and push back from the table, suddenly needing to be in the same room as her instead of listening from a distance.
The study has been my refuge for the past year, the place where I could hide from the reality of Evie being gone, where I could pretend she was just in the other room instead of lost to me forever.
But lately, the study feels more like a prison than a refuge, and the only place I want to be is wherever Amelia is.
I walk into the living room and stop in the doorway, taking in the scene.
Amelia is on the floor with Isaac in her lap, his curly head resting against her shoulder.
Riley is sprawled on the couch, her legs kicked up over the arm, completely absorbed in whatever story Amelia's telling.
The TV is off, the only light coming from the lamps scattered around the room, creating pools of warmth that make everything feel cozy and safe.
She looks warm, a slight flush high on her cheeks that might be from the heat or might be something else. Her pre-heat is progressing. I should probably check in with her about that, make sure she's comfortable, but the words feel too clinical, too invasive for this sweet domestic scene.
Amelia notices me first, her eyes finding mine and her smile widening in welcome. "And then the prince," she continues without breaking stride, "had to figure out how to get past the dragon to reach the princess in the tower."
"But the dragon wasn't mean!" Isaac interjects. "He was just lonely."
"That's right. The dragon was just lonely and wanted someone to talk to. So the prince, instead of fighting the dragon, decided to be his friend first."
Riley sits up suddenly, her eyes bright with an idea. "And then the dragon helped the prince get to the princess! Because that's what friends do."
"Exactly." Amelia beams at her, and the pride in her expression makes something warm bloom in my chest.
Riley scrambles off the couch and runs over to me, nearly tripping over her own feet in her excitement. She's clutching something in her hands, and when she gets close enough I see it's a handful of dandelions, their yellow heads already starting to wilt but still bright enough to be cheerful.
"Dad! You have to help." She thrusts the dandelions at me. "In the story, the prince puts flowers in the girl's hair. You have to do it for me first so I can show Isaac how it works."
I crouch down to her level, taking the dandelions gently. The stems are slightly damp, leaving traces of green on my fingers. "You want me to put these in your hair?"
"Yes! Please?" Her eyes are wide and hopeful, and there's no way I could say no even if I wanted to.
I carefully tuck one of the dandelions behind her ear, my fingers gentle against her temple, making sure it's secure enough to stay but not so tight it pulls her hair.
It catches in the fine strands that smell faintly of strawberry shampoo.
She giggles, reaching up to touch it, and the sound is so purely happy that it makes my throat tight.
"Perfect," I tell her. "Very princess-like."
"Now Miss Amelia!" Riley points across the room. "The prince has to put one in her hair too!"
I look over at Amelia, who's watching us with this soft expression that makes my heart do complicated things in my chest. Isaac has twisted around in her lap to watch, his hazel-green eyes tracking my movements as I cross the room.
The dying evening light from the window catches in Amelia's hair, making the brown strands look almost golden.
I kneel beside them, holding up one of the dandelions. "May I?"
"You may," Amelia says softly, tilting her head slightly to give me better access.
I reach up and tuck the dandelion behind her ear, letting my fingers linger against the soft skin of her temple for just a moment longer than necessary.
Her skin is warm, warmer than it should be, and I make a mental note to check her temperature later.
Her eyes meet mine, brown and warm and full of something that looks like trust, and I'm hit with the overwhelming urge to kiss her properly, deeply, to show her exactly how much she's come to mean to me.
"Now you have to kiss!" Isaac announces with the confidence of a four-year-old who thinks he understands how romance works.
My eyes find Amelia's, a question in them. This is crossing a line in front of the kids, making our courtship visible to them before we'd planned. But she's smiling, her cheeks flushed pink, and she gives the smallest nod.
"Just a small one," Riley adds seriously, moving closer to watch. "Because we're watching."
I lean in slowly, giving Amelia time to change her mind, and press my lips to hers.
It's light, chaste, nothing like what I actually want, but the kids are watching and this isn't the moment for anything deeper.
Still, even this brief contact sends heat racing through me, makes me want to pull her closer and forget we have an audience.
When I pull back, Riley is grinning like she's accomplished something monumental, and Isaac is clapping his hands together in delight.
"Okay, troublemakers," I say, standing and holding out my hands to help Amelia up with Isaac still in her arms. His weight makes her stumble slightly and I steady her with a hand on her elbow.
"I think it's time for bed. It's already past eight and you both need sleep if you're going to have energy tomorrow. "
"But we're not tired," Riley protests, though she's rubbing her eyes in a way that completely contradicts her statement.
"Story first?" Isaac asks hopefully, looking between me and Amelia. "Please?"
"Story first," I agree. "But then straight to bed, no arguing. Deal?"
"Deal!" They both chorus, and then they're racing for the stairs, their earlier exhaustion apparently forgotten in the excitement of getting a story.
Amelia laughs, the sound bright and warm as we follow the kids at a more sedate pace. "They played you. You know that, right? They were getting sleepy until you mentioned a story and now they're completely wired again."
"I'm aware," I admit with a smile. "But I promised I'd read to them tonight and I'm not breaking that promise just because it's inconvenient."
We get the kids into their pajamas through a combination of cajoling and gentle threats.
Isaac insists on brushing his own teeth, which results in more toothpaste on his face than in his mouth, but Amelia cleans him up with patient hands and a warm washcloth.
Riley needs help with her hair, the tangles from playing outside earlier requiring careful work, and I watch Amelia navigate it with the same gentle competence she brings to everything involving the kids.
Finally, they're both in Riley's room, tucked into her bed together because Isaac still doesn't like sleeping alone sometimes.
The nightlight in the corner casts soft shadows across the walls, and the window is cracked just enough to let in the cool evening air.
I settle into the reading chair with a book Riley picked out earlier, some story about a girl who talks to animals.
Amelia curls up in the beanbag chair in the corner, content to just listen, and I find myself reading to all three of them. My voice fills the room, doing different voices for each character in a way that makes the kids giggle and Amelia smile.
By the time I finish the story, both kids are fighting sleep, their eyes drooping even as they try to stay awake. I close the book and stand, moving to tuck them in properly. Riley's stuffed rabbit has fallen to the floor and I retrieve it, placing it within her reach.
"Love you, Dad," Riley mumbles, already halfway gone.
"Love you too, sweetheart." I press a kiss to her forehead, breathing in the scent of strawberry shampoo and childhood, then move to Isaac. "You too, buddy."
"Love you," he manages, his words slurred with sleep. His truck is clutched in one small fist, held tight even in sleep.
Amelia and I slip out of the room quietly, pulling the door mostly closed behind us but leaving it cracked in case they call for us. The hallway feels suddenly smaller with just the two of us, the air thick with something I can't quite name.
We move through the house together, turning off lights, checking that doors are locked.
A routine that's become comfortable without us planning it.
At the top of the stairs, we both pause outside Riley's door, listening to make sure they're really asleep.
Isaac's soft snoring drifts through the crack, and Amelia's lips curve into a fond smile.
"Are you staying tonight?" The question comes out before I can overthink it, my voice lower than I intended.
She turns to face me, her expression shifting into something playful. "Is this you asking for some time with me?"
"Yes." I close the distance between us, my hand coming up to cup her face, my thumb stroking across her cheekbone.
Her skin is fever-warm beneath my palm. "I'm done watching from the sidelines.
I'm done pretending I don't want you every second of every day.
So yes, this is me asking. Begging, if necessary. Please stay."
Her smile is brilliant, lighting up her whole face in a way that makes my chest ache. "I was wondering if you'd ever ask."
"Really?" I study her face, looking for any sign that she's just being polite, that she doesn't actually want this. "You've been waiting?"
"Silas." She reaches up to cover my hand with hers, pressing it more firmly against her cheek.
"You've been circling around me for weeks now.
Bringing me tea, making sure I've eaten, finding excuses to be in whatever room I'm in.
But you never asked for more than that. Never pushed for anything beyond those small gestures.
I started to think maybe you didn't want more. "
"I want everything," I admit roughly, the words pulled from somewhere deep and honest. "I want you in my bed, waking up beside me, building this life together.
I want to court you properly, bring you gifts that show I'm paying attention.
I want all of it, Amelia. I'm just terrified of messing this up. "
"You won't mess it up." Her free hand comes up to rest on my chest, right over my heart. I can feel my pulse hammering beneath her palm. "We'll figure it out together. That's what you keep telling me, right? One step at a time?"
"One step at a time," I echo, and then I'm kissing her properly, the way I've wanted to since that morning in the kitchen. Deep and slow and thorough, pouring everything I can't quite say into the press of my lips against hers.