Chapter 34 Amelia
Amelia
Later that evening, after the park and dinner and the kids' bath time, I'm curled up on the couch again.
Riley and Isaac are in their room, supposedly getting ready for bed but more likely jumping on Isaac's mattress. I can hear their laughter echoing from upstairs. Silas told them they had five minutes while he took care of the dishes but I assume he’s giving them a bit more time to wind down.
Hunter and Wyatt are on either side of me, all of us exhausted from a day of chasing energetic children around the playground.
As if summoned by my thoughts about the future, Riley appears at the edge of the couch in her pajamas, her hair still damp from the bath. She's got that serious expression on her face, the one that makes her look far older than six.
"Can I ask you something?" she says, twisting her fingers together.
I sit up a little straighter. "Of course, sweetie."
She comes closer, standing in front of me with her hands clasped together. "Do you love my dads?"
The question hits me like a punch to the chest. I glance at Hunter, then Wyatt, trying to figure out how to answer. We haven't talked about this or defined what we are to each other beyond the obvious physical connection, beyond the fact that I'm still here a week after my heat ended.
Well, I know we’re each others but discussions of bonding and what happens next haven’t really been a priority with everything else.
"Riley," Hunter starts, but she shakes her head.
"I want to know," she says stubbornly. "Because if she's just going to leave like everyone else, I need to know now."
The hurt in her voice, makes my chest ache. "I care about your dads very much," I say carefully, reaching out to take her hand. "And I care about you and Isaac too."
"But are you staying?" Riley presses. "Or are you going to go back to Uncle Dylan's house?"
I look at Hunter and Wyatt again, realizing we're having the conversation we should have had privately, but now it's happening in front of a six-year-old who deserves an honest answer.
"I don't know," I admit. "We haven't really talked about what happens next. I don't want to assume anything."
"We want you to stay," Wyatt says quietly. "We've wanted to ask. We just weren't sure if you'd want to. If you were ready for that."
"This is your home," Hunter adds. "If you want it to be. We'd like it to be."
My throat goes tight. "You're sure? I mean, it's only been a little while since..."
"I'm sure," Hunter interrupts. "I've never been more sure of anything."
"We all are," Silas calls from the kitchen, apparently listening to the entire conversation.
Riley is watching me with those serious eyes, waiting for my answer.
Isaac appears a second later behind her now, probably drawn by the voices.
This is both adorable and panic inducing, accepting their invitation at all once like this.
However, it feels right. My nest at Dylan’s house hasn’t been my nest for a few weeks now and I can’t even imagine what it would be like without the chaos of the Kane family in my life.
"I'd like to stay," I say, the words feeling both terrifying and right. "If that's really okay. I know it's fast, and we're still figuring things out, but I don't want to be anywhere else."
Riley's face breaks into a smile, but there's still caution there. "For how long?"
"I don't know," I answer honestly. "But I'm not planning on leaving. Not unless you all get sick of me."
"Forever?" Isaac asks, his eyes widening with hope.
Forever is such a big word, such a huge commitment. But looking at these kids who've already lost so much, who need stability and certainty more than they need perfect honesty...
"That's a really long time," I say carefully. "But yeah. I like the sound of that. Being part of this family is what I want."
Isaac launches himself at me with the full force of his four-year-old body, nearly knocking the air out of my lungs. I catch him, wrapping my arms around his small frame as he burrows into my chest. His curly hair tickles my chin, and I press a kiss to the top of his head.
Riley moves slower as she climbs onto the couch beside me, tucking herself between me and Wyatt. For a moment we sit there, me surrounded between two kids who've wormed their way into my heart as deeply as their fathers have.
"Mom would have really liked you," Riley says quietly, her voice muffled against my shoulder. "You would have been the best of friends."
The words make tears spring to my eyes immediately. I have to blink them back, not wanting to cry in front of the kids even though these are good tears, the kind that come from being accepted by people who matter.
This is the moment I've been afraid of, the conversation about their mother, about the woman whose space I'm somehow filling. I need to get this right.
"I wish I could have met her," I say softly, one arm around each child. "I really do. And I want you both to know that I'm not trying to replace her. I could never replace your mom. She was special, and she loved you so much, and that doesn't change just because I'm here now."
Riley nods against my shoulder, her small body trembling slightly.
"But," I continue, choosing my words carefully, "I do care about you.
Both of you. So much. And if you'll let me, I'd like to be someone you can count on.
Someone who's here for you, who takes care of you, who cares about you deeply.
Not instead of your mom, but alongside the memory of her. Does that make sense?"
"Yeah," Riley whispers. "Yeah, it does."
"Your mom brought Amelia to us," Silas says softly, coming to sit on the floor in front of us. "I believe that. She knew we needed someone, that you two needed someone, and she made sure we found exactly the right person at exactly the right time."
I'm not sure I believe in that kind of thing, divine intervention or fate or whatever, but the sentiment is beautiful. The idea that Evie, somewhere, is okay with this. That she wanted this for her family.
"I just want to make her proud," I say, my voice thick with emotion. "I want to be worthy of this family she created, this love she left behind."
Wyatt leans over and kisses the side of my head, his hand squeezing my ankle gently. "You're already part of this family. And that's enough."
Hunter's arm comes around all of us, me and both kids, pulling us closer. "We're a pack now. All of us together. And that's not something we take lightly."
Riley pulls back enough to look at me, her eyes still serious but softer now. "So you're staying? Really staying?"
"Really staying," I confirm. "I promise."
"Okay," she says, and for the first time since I've known her, she looks like she might actually believe it. "Okay, good."
Isaac is already half-asleep against my chest, his breathing evening out. I adjust my hold on him, making sure he's comfortable. "We should get them to bed," I murmur, not wanting to move but knowing I should.
"I'll take Isaac," Hunter says, carefully extracting the sleeping four-year-old from my arms. "Riley, bedtime, kiddo."
Riley slides off the couch reluctantly but pauses before following her dad. "Miss Amelia?"
"Yeah, sweetie?"
"I'm glad you're staying."
My throat goes tight again. "Me too, Riley. Me too."
She gives me a small smile, then follows Hunter up the stairs. I can hear him talking to them softly as he gets Isaac into bed, the gentle rumble of his voice through the walls.
Wyatt shifts closer, pulling me against his side. "That went well."
"Did it?" I ask, still feeling shaky from the emotional intensity of the conversation. "I feel like I just made a huge commitment without really thinking it through."
"Do you regret it?" Silas asks, settling onto the couch on my other side.
"No," I say immediately. "No, I don't. I'm just nervous. Everything is moving so fast."
"We can slow down if you need to," Wyatt offers. "Take things at whatever pace feels right."
"I don't want to slow down," I admit. "I just want to feel like I deserve this. Like I'm not going to wake up one day and realize it was all too good to be true."
"You do deserve this," Silas says firmly. "You deserve to be happy and safe, and to be part of a family that values you. Don't let your ex’s voice in your head tell you otherwise."
I lean into Wyatt, letting his warmth and scent wrap around me. "I'm trying. It's just hard to believe sometimes."
"We'll remind you," Wyatt promises. "Every day if we have to. Until you believe it."
Hunter returns a few minutes later, the kids successfully tucked into bed. He settles into the armchair across from us, his eyes soft as he watches me nestled between his packmates.
"Thank you," I say quietly. "For wanting me here. For giving me a place to belong."
"Thank you," Hunter counters, "for being brave enough to stay."