Chapter 32
When lunch was over and the kids had settled in for their afternoon lessons—or an afternoon nap, in Nora’s case—I took Maisie upstairs with Colt.
“I hear we have a studio to set up.” I swung open one of the doors leading to the numerous storage areas on the upper floor in addition to the nest. “I have a surprise, too.”
“What kind of surprise?” Maisie asked.
I pulled out some tote boxes, six in total that my mom had sent with me when we moved into this house. Popping the lid off the first, I showed it to Maisie.
She let out a gasp, reaching for the sketches on top. “You kept these?”
“Of course I did. I kept everything.”
Maisie had always loved art classes in middle and high school, but taking the projects home was never an option.
She’d given most of them to me, and any she hadn’t deemed good enough for that had led to me fishing them out of the trash.
For years, I had collected them in semi-secret, hoping that one day I would be able to give her a space where she could display what she’d worked so hard on.
Her eyes turned misty as she flipped through the top stack.
Sketches, charcoal drawings, even doodle pages, all lovingly kept and waiting for her.
Other boxes held paintings, sculptures, even some papier-maché projects.
I hadn’t wanted to let a single piece of her go, and when she had been taken away, I’d at least had these.
All of Colt’s art supplies were up here, too. I’d figured he would put up his paintings when we got settled, but he’d never taken them out of storage. Anytime I prompted, he brushed it away.
He hovered, watching Maisie go through the hundreds of items I’d saved for her.
“These are really good,” he commented, picking up a watercolor portrait of me she had done one year.
“You should show her yours.” I went over to the box a few of them were stored in, carefully wrapped and awaiting their new home on the walls.
“Yeah, I’d love to see them.” Maisie smiled, following me over.
Colt bent, picking the first out of the box and gently unwrapping it to reveal an oil painting of me on horseback from the year I had first gotten Lucky.
Maisie gasped, already reaching to unwrap another. “Colt, these are beautiful.”
The second she opened was a field of poppies, drops of red against the golden field and blue sky.
“You like them?” Colt seemed almost surprised. I suppose it was easier to compliment someone else than to accept our own talents sometimes.
“I love them. Show me the rest?”
It was exactly what I’d hoped she would say.
We took our time going through Colt’s paintings, a mix of landscapes and people decorating the canvases.
He told her she could have any that she wanted, and she chose ones that matched the children’s rooms—an autumn maple for Cody, spring cherry blossoms for Paisley, and a patch of buttercups against summer grass for Nora, plus a rich, green forest covered in moss and ferns for her own room.
“You weren’t lying to me when you said you liked them?” he asked me.
“Lying to you? Why would I do that?”
“No one really cared about my art growing up so I didn’t really believe you when you said you liked them.”
“Well, I do.” I picked up my favorite, a rolling landscape that looked so much like the property we lived on now that I’d known it was home the moment I saw it. “You’ve always been talented and you do beautiful work. Can we finally put some of these up?”
He ran a hand over his short curls, scratching the back of his head. “Sure. Might be weird for me to see them on the walls for a while, but I’ll get used to it. Should we put up some of Maisie’s, too?”
“Oh, god,” she laughed. “Mine aren’t anywhere near as good as yours.”
“Both of you shush,” I ordered. “You two make beautiful art, and I want it on my walls, end of story. If you can’t love it yourselves, then I’ll love it for you.”
A swell of emotion tripped down the bond from Colt and he pulled me into a hug. I melted into it. Honey and sandalwood filled my lungs, warm and soothing.
Hopefully this would be an opportunity for both of them to get back into art.
I knew it was a healing outlet for a lot of people, and Maisie could certainly use a few more of those.
Plus it was something they could share. And one day, when they were ready, it was something they could pass down a love of to the children as well.
While the two of them went through the boxes, I set up the easels in front of the window.
The view from up this high let us see the bison meandering through the grasslands.
I dug out the art supplies, organizing as best as I knew how.
Laying out brushes, lining up sets of pastels and tubes of paint.
I wasn’t quite sure if paint had an expiry date, but if they needed new supplies, that was easy enough to procure.
Maisie caught me by surprise, hugging me from behind. “I still can’t believe you kept everything.”
“I wanted to keep every piece you gave me, and I didn’t want anything to end up in the trash just because you couldn’t take them home.
They lived at my mom’s while I went to university, and of course, when we bought this place and moved in, our first visit back there resulted in her stacking up boxes of all of my childhood things for me to go home with. ”
“I’m glad both of you saved it then. I didn’t realize how few pieces of the past I had that weren’t tainted. Those classes were my happy place growing up, besides the library with you.”
I spun in her grip, wrapping her in a proper hug. She sniffled, kissing me softly and cupping my cheeks.
“Thank you.” Maisie leaned into a lingering kiss.
“You’re more than welcome,” I said when she pulled away. “And now you can make as much art as you want. Nothing ever has to go in the trash.”
She turned and traced her fingers over one of the easels. “I’m going to be rusty.”
“Me too,” said Colt, hugging both of us. “We can get back into a groove together.”
“I’ll let you two set up the studio however you think will work best. Just going to check in on everyone downstairs.” I gave Colt and Maisie a quick kiss each and scampered down the stairs.
Cody and Paisley were hard at work with whatever Bryan had set up for them.
He had glasses on…the first time I’d ever seen him wear them, and he looked fine as hell.
I knew Bryan had a history in the business world and imagined he’d be gorgeous in a suit, but this was sexy professor energy, and it suited him perfectly.
He’d stepped straight into the role of teacher for the kids and it was helping him blossom in ways none of us ever expected.
“Are those new?” I wandered over, helpless but to get a better look.
“Oh, uh, no, I don’t often wear them.”
“Why not?”
“Vanity, mostly.” He shrugged. “They’re just readers.”
“You should wear them more,” I insisted.
He looked at me curiously. “Why?”
“Because you look cute.” I rounded the table, planting a kiss on his temple.
“Everyone kisses in this house,” Cody pointed out. “Why?”
“Kisses happen when grown-ups love each other.”
He stared at me for a long moment. “None of the grown-ups at home kiss.”
Well, that wasn’t exactly a conversation I wanted to deep-dive into. He could potentially come to some conclusions on his own between our two statements, but I wasn’t sure it was for me to say.
“What about hugs?” Bryan asked.
“Not Mama and Daddy. Mama only hugs our aunties and uncles and us.”
“Mama gives really good hugs,” Paisley added.
“You’re right, she does.” I smoothed a hand over her hair, the same shade as Maisie’s natural hair.
Nora made fussing sounds in her playpen and Wyatt went to her immediately. My heart did a little flip as he scooped her up, gently soothing the toddler. He cradled her, smiling when she grabbed his braid to hold as he rocked her back to sleep.
Seeing my pack throw themselves headlong into parenthood was overwhelming in the best way.
They came to it so naturally. I thought when we eventually hit that life phase, it would be as hard as everyone always said.
Maybe it felt easy because Maisie had raised them so well, or they had some lingering compliance from life on the compound, but they were so easy to love.
Becoming parents this way was both brutal and beautiful. Bittersweet was probably a better term for it. These kids should’ve been ours from the start. We couldn’t change their parentage, or the years we had lost out on, but we could be what they needed now.
“Did Mama and Daddy not love each other?” Cody asked, staring at me with an intense brown-eyed gaze.
“Don’t be silly,” Paisley chided. “They’re married. All married people love each other.”
“But they never kiss or hug. Carter said kisses happen when grown-ups love each other.”
I watched the wheels turn behind Paisley’s eyes, but maybe she wasn’t old enough to connect all the dots.
“Married people should love each other,” Bryan clarified. “Not all of them do, but I think your mother’s relationship with your father is something better discussed with her than with us.”
Bryan fielded Paisley’s many questions that mostly consisted of ‘why?’ and nothing else. Eventually, she said, “Mama is way happier here. I like when she smiles.”
God, don’t cry.
I stared at the ceiling, trying to hold back my tears. Abuse was so tricky to navigate, and I knew children saw more than people thought, but I had hoped Paisley was young enough she hadn’t noticed how sad Maisie must have been.
Wyatt came up next to me, Nora passed out in his arms. He whispered softly, “Come here.”
He balanced Nora with one arm and wrapped the other around me, so I leaned in, helping support some of her weight.
I had noticed when they’d first arrived how much they all looked like their mother.
They had the same hair and eyes, with Cody and Nora sharing her curls.
I didn’t give a shit who their father was.
These were Maisie’s babies, and she was the only birth parent who mattered.
Paisley climbed off her seat, came over, and locked her little arms around my waist. “Don’t be sad. Why are you crying?”
I kneeled, pulling her into a hug. “I just really love your mom.”
Paisley buried her face against me. “I wish you were our daddy instead. Mommy would smile more.”
That tipped me fully over the edge, tears streaming down my cheeks that Paisley helpfully wiped away.
“No,” Cody snapped. “We already have a dad.”
“I know,” Paisley replied. “But he’s not nice to Mama, and I don’t want her to be sad anymore.”
Cody threw his pencil on the table and pushed back his chair so fast it fell over behind him. He swept past all of us, stalking up the stairs, Whiskey racing after him. We heard bells chime before the door slammed.
Paisley shivered in my arms, starting to cry quietly. “He does that like daddy.”
“I’ve got him,” Bryan declared, getting to his feet slowly. He grabbed a juice box and plated up a pair of cookies before heading toward the stairs as well. “I know a thing or two about difficult fathers.”
That was something I was grateful for. Not that Bryan had suffered, but that he was turning that experience into a strength.
I stood up, bringing Paisley with me. “I don’t know about you, but I think we should have some recess and play with the dogs. Does that sound good to you?”
Paisley nodded, locking her arms around my neck.
My heart flipped again. I had already intended to fight for Maisie and her kids, but as the days progressed, it was no longer just for their sakes. Letting them go would hurt too much, and I wasn’t willing to let anyone, let alone an asshole like Paul, rip open that wound.