Blake
I'm out of bed before my brain fully processes Lily's scream, my bare feet hitting the cold cabin floor as adrenaline floods my system.
Years of coaching have trained me to react first and think later when someone needs help.
Behind me, I hear Jack cursing and Noah scrambling for his glasses while Mia grabs a robe.
The children's cabin is only twenty feet away, but it feels like miles as I sprint across the clearing in nothing but my boxers.
The night air bites at my skin, raising goosebumps across my chest and arms. Through the window, I can see Lily's silhouette pressed against the glass, her small body trembling.
I burst through the door to find all five kids awake and terrified. Maya has her arms around Sophie and Ethan, trying to be brave even though her eyes are wide with fear. Rory and Corey flank Lily, who's pointing at the window with a shaking hand.
"There was someone out there!" Lily's voice cracks. "A person looking in at us!"
I kneel beside her, my hands gentle on her shoulders. "Show me where, sweetheart."
She points to the window facing the woods. I move closer, peering into the darkness beyond the glass. Jack appears at my shoulder, fully dressed now, his jaw tight with protective fury.
"I'll check the perimeter," he says, his voice carrying that authoritative tone that makes people listen. "Noah and Mia, stay with the kids."
We grab flashlights from the main cabin and circle the property.
The beam of my flashlight cuts through the darkness, illuminating pine trees and undergrowth.
My heart pounds against my ribs as I scan for any sign of an intruder.
The thought of someone watching the children makes my blood pressure spike dangerously.
"Here," Jack calls from near the window where Lily saw the figure.
I jog over to find him examining a large branch that's scraped against the glass. The wind picks up as if on cue, and the branch moves again, its shadow dancing across the window in a way that could definitely look like a person to a frightened six-year-old.
Relief floods through me so intensely my knees almost buckle. "Just a branch."
Jack nods, but his expression remains grim. "We should check the whole property anyway. Make sure."
We spend another twenty minutes searching every inch of the clearing and the surrounding woods. Nothing. No footprints, no signs of disturbance, no evidence anyone was here besides us. By the time we return to the children's cabin, my bare feet are freezing and scratched from pine needles.
Mia has all the kids gathered on the floor in sleeping bags, telling them a story about brave knights and dragons.
Her voice is soothing, maternal, and I watch her face light up as she does different character voices.
Even in the dim lamplight, I can see the curve of her breasts beneath her robe, the way her dark hair falls across her shoulders.
She's beautiful like this, completely in her element with the children.
"False alarm," I announce, keeping my voice light. "Just a big branch the wind was moving around."
Lily's lower lip trembles. "It looked like a person."
I cross to her and scoop her into my arms, holding her against my bare chest. She's so small, so fragile. The weight of her trust in me settles over my shoulders like a heavy playbook I'm not sure I know how to execute.
"I know it did, baby girl. But I promise you're safe. Jack and I checked everywhere."
"You won't let anything bad happen?" Her voice is muffled against my shoulder.
"Never." I press a kiss to the top of her head. "That's what dads do. We keep our kids safe."
Jack and Noah help settle the children back into their sleeping bags while Mia tucks each one in with whispered reassurances.
I notice the way Jack's eyes linger on Rory and Corey, the possessive pride in his expression now that he knows they're his sons.
Noah's hand finds the small of Mia's back as she leans over to kiss Sophie's forehead, the gesture so natural it's like they've been doing this for years instead of months.
Back in the master cabin, Mia collapses onto the bed with an exhausted laugh. "Well, that was terrifying."
"Welcome to parenthood," I say, pulling on sweatpants. "Where every noise in the night could be a serial killer or just the house settling."
Jack pours himself a scotch from the mini bar, his hands not quite steady. "I thought someone had actually found us out here."
"Same," Noah admits, adjusting his glasses. "My heart rate probably won't return to normal for an hour."
I sink onto the bed beside Mia, suddenly aware of how close I came to losing my mind when I thought someone was threatening the kids. "I've played in and coached hundreds of games. Faced down opposing players twice my size. But nothing has ever scared me like hearing Lily scream."
Mia's hand finds mine, her fingers threading through mine. "You were amazing with her."
"I had no idea what I was doing," I admit. "I'm still figuring this whole dad thing out. It's like being thrown into a championship game without knowing the playbook."
"You're doing great," Jack says, settling into the armchair across from us. His hazel eyes are warm as they meet mine. "Better than great. Lily's lucky to have you."
The compliment from Jack means more than it should. He's been a father for years, and navigated the complexities of raising Emma even through a difficult divorce. If he thinks I'm doing okay, maybe I actually am.
We talk for another hour, the adrenaline slowly fading as we process the scare. Eventually, exhaustion wins, and we all collapse into bed, Mia tucked between us while Noah takes the other side. I fall asleep with my hand resting on her belly, feeling the warmth of her body against mine.
Morning comes too early. Sunlight streams through the windows, and I can already hear the kids' voices outside. I extract myself carefully from the tangle of limbs and dress quickly, needing coffee before I can function.
In the main cabin's kitchen, I find Maya already awake and making toast for the younger kids. She's so responsible for an eight-year-old, taking care of her siblings with a competence that breaks my heart a little. No kid should have to grow up that fast.
"Morning, Maya," I say, starting the coffee maker. "You're up early."
"Sophie was hungry." She spreads peanut butter with careful precision. "And Ethan had a bad dream."
"You're a good big sister."
She shrugs like it's nothing, but I see the pride in her smile.
The rest of the morning passes in organized chaos as we pack up the cabins and load vehicles.
I watch Mia move between all seven children with practiced ease, wiping syrup off Sophie's face, helping Ethan find his stuffed rabbit, and settling an argument between Rory and Corey about who gets to sit in the front seat.
She's incredible. The way she anticipates their needs before they voice them, the patience in her voice, even when she's clearly exhausted, and the genuine love in her eyes as she looks at each child. My chest tightens watching her braid Lily's hair, her fingers gentle and sure.
I'm falling for more than just Mia. I'm falling for this whole chaotic, beautiful mess we're building together.
Jack catches my eye across the clearing and nods toward Mia. "She's something, isn't she?"
"Yeah." I can't take my eyes off her as she laughs at something Maya says. "She really is."
"We're lucky," Noah adds, appearing beside us with an armful of sleeping bags.
The drive back to Riverside feels heavier than the drive up.
Reality waits for us at the bottom of the mountain.
Marcus and his threats. Kyle and his obsessive behavior.
The parent complaints and school board investigation.
All the problems we escaped for a weekend are still there, waiting to crash down on us.
I glance in the rearview mirror at Lily sleeping in her car seat, her stuffed elephant clutched to her chest. Mr. Elephant, she calls him. The most important member of our family, according to her.
Am I capable of being the father she needs?
The question has haunted me since the hospital, since the moment I learned I had a daughter.
I'm thirty-three years old, spent my entire adult life focused on football and coaching.
I've never changed a diaper, never helped with homework, never had to comfort a child after a nightmare.
But watching Lily sleep, her face peaceful and trusting, I know I'll figure it out. I have to. She's already lost one parent. I refuse to let her down.
My phone buzzes in the cup holder. A text from the athletic director asking me to call him Monday morning. My stomach clenches. That can't be good news.
The weekend was perfect. Too perfect. Like the calm before the storm in a game where you know the other team is about to unleash their best play.
We arrive back in Riverside as the sun sets, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. I help Mia unload her car while Jack and Noah handle theirs. The twins are exhausted, barely able to keep their eyes open as Mia herds them toward her apartment.
"Thank you for this weekend," she says, her blue eyes soft as she looks at me. "For everything."
I pull her close, not caring who might see. "Anytime."
She rises on her toes and kisses me, her lips warm and sweet. "I love you."
"Love you too." The words come easier each time I say them.
Monday morning arrives with the harsh reality of alarm clocks and responsibilities.
I dress in my coaching gear and head to the academy, my mind already running through practice drills and game strategies.
The athletic director's text weighs on me, but I push it aside.
Whatever he wants to discuss, I'll handle it.
The parking lot is nearly empty when I arrive, just a few early teachers and custodial staff. I park in my usual spot near the gym and cut the engine.
Thankfully, the day passes fairly quickly and soon I'm ready to go home. Before leaving, I check Mia's classroom, but she isn't there. She could be in the parking lot already, or might have even gone home.
A white piece of paper is tucked under my windshield wiper. With a frown, I take it from underneath the wiper and open it up. There's only one sentence on it: typed, not handwritten:
Stay away from Mia.