9. Daisy
Chapter 9
I smooth the black fabric of my dress, checking my reflection again in the floor-length mirror. My first heat finally ended, and I’m relieved to get back to normal. Even though it led me to my Alphas, next time, I plan to take suppressants to keep it manageable. The overwhelming neediness and loss of control weren’t for me. I want to be clear-headed, fully aware, not ruled by instincts.
I sigh, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. Today is the funeral for Nate’s father and stepmother, Stacey. Nate invited me for moral support, but mostly I'm going for Will. Even though he’s just a baby, Nate insists his half-brother should be there. I can tell this weighs on him. His relationship with his father was complicated. The least I can do is show up and support him.
I glance around my room, my nest. Over the past week, it has changed from a bare guest room to something comfortable, full of pillows, blankets, and clothes from Calvin, Nate, and even Peter. Their scents linger, calming my nerves. I fluff the pillows, take a deep breath, then head to the nursery.
Will coos when I enter, waving his tiny fists in the air. I smile as I approach his crib.
"Good morning, handsome." I scoop him into my arms. His small body fits perfectly against mine. He looks up at me with big green eyes, kicking his little legs. "Today’s a big day. You’ll have to help Nate feel better, okay?"
He babbles, and I laugh, pressing a kiss to his forehead. Moving to the changing table, I lay him down and start changing his diaper, dressing him in the tiny black outfit Nate bought for today. It’s cute but somber.
As I fasten the last button, footsteps sound behind me. I glance over my shoulder, meeting Nate's green eyes. He leans in the doorway, wearing a fitted black suit. His golden blonde hair is slicked back with gel. It’s strange to see him so dressed up. Sadness lingers in his eyes, and it tugs at me. I want to take his pain away.
I offer him a smile. "How are you holding up?" I adjust Will's outfit, smoothing the fabric.
Nate crosses his arms, watching me before his gaze drops to Will. His shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath. "I'm not sure yet. Ask me after."
I nod, lifting Will. Nate steps forward, brushing his thumb over his half-brother’s cheek. His expression softens. Will reaches up and grabs his finger.
"Thanks for doing this." Nate’s voice is quiet. He clears his throat, staring at Will’s tiny hand wrapped around his finger.
I shake my head. "You don't have to thank me. I want to be there. I know it’s important for you both." I touch his arm, offering reassurance. His muscles relax beneath my fingertips.
The sound of Calvin and Peter’s voices downstairs interrupts us. Nate glances toward the hallway.
"We should get going," he murmurs. "The car will be here soon."
I nod, shifting Will in my arms. "I just need to grab his bag. I packed everything last night: bottles, diapers, toys, extra clothes. Just in case." I grab the bag from the floor near the crib, but Nate takes it before I can throw it over my shoulder.
He steps back, letting me go first. His hand rests on my back as we walk down the hall together. The gesture warms me.
Calvin waits at the bottom of the stairs, wearing a matching suit. His curls are slicked back with gel, which is unusual for him, but he looks good. He reaches for Will as soon as we approach, easily cradling him against his chest.
"Look at you, little man. All dressed up and handsome." Calvin's voice is soft, his hand rubbing Will’s back.
Peter appears from the living room, adjusting his shirt cuff. His glasses catch the sunlight as he looks our way, nodding. He stays composed, but his expression softens when he sees me.
The doorbell chimes, signaling the car’s arrival. Nate’s jaw tightens before he gives a curt nod. "Time to go."
Calvin adjusts Will in his arms and follows Nate out. Peter waits, holding the door for me. I meet his eyes, finding reassurance there despite his usual cool demeanor.
Taking a deep breath, I step outside into the morning sunlight, ready to face the hard day ahead and be there for my Alphas.
I sit in the front pew of the church, shifting slightly as the wooden bench presses into my spine. William sleeps peacefully in my arms, unaware of the heavy silence hanging in the air. Nate steps up to the podium, clears his throat, and adjusts the microphone. His gaze sweeps over the crowd gathered to mourn his father and stepmother.
Nate's broad shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath. He pauses, gripping the edges of the podium tightly. He lifts his head, meeting my eyes for a moment before turning to address everyone else.
“I struggled this week to find the right words to describe my father,” Nate begins, his voice low but steady. “He wasn't a simple man. He wasn't always a good man, either. My father was complicated. He built homes, beautiful houses filled with the dreams of the families who bought them. He poured himself into every foundation, every brick, every carefully placed beam. But in his personal life, his decisions sometimes caused pain. A pain that lingered long after he moved on.”
His eyes flick in my direction, lingering on William nestled in my arms. Nate swallows hard, steadying himself.
“But there are good memories, too. When I was eight, my dad built a rink behind our house. It wasn't anything fancy, just a flat patch of backyard flooded with water and frozen by winter air. He spent days smoothing the ice, staying up late after work, pouring water in the chilly night to make sure it froze just right. One afternoon, he handed me my first pair of hockey skates. We laced them up together, his large hands clumsy with the unfamiliar knots. I still remember how he laughed when I stood up and fell flat on my face. But he picked me back up, over and over, teaching me to skate until my legs ached. That rink, that winter, started my love of hockey. It set me on the path that led me to where I am now.”
Nate pauses, blinking fast as tears gather in his eyes. A quiet sniffle echoes from someone behind me. I adjust William, feeling a pang in my chest at Nate’s vulnerability.
“And now,” Nate continues, his voice thick with emotion. “I find myself guardian to my half-brother, William. My father wasn't perfect, but I truly believe he would have wanted the best for Will. I hope... I hope I can raise Will in a way that honors the best parts of who my father was. The hardworking man. The father who built a backyard rink because his son dreamed of skating. The man who, despite his flaws, tried in his own way to give me a good life. I hope I can embody those good aspects and be someone Will can depend on.”
His voice cracks, and he takes a slow breath to steady himself. A heavy silence settles over the room, broken only by the soft creaking of pews as people shift.
In my arms, William stirs. His face scrunches, eyes fluttering open with a confused whimper. I bounce him gently, trying to soothe him back to sleep, but he fusses louder, breaking the respectful quiet of the church. A few heads turn toward us, their expressions soft with sympathy, but my cheeks flush with embarrassment.
I rise from the pew, cradling Will close to my chest, and slip from the sanctuary. Out in the hall, away from the quiet tension of the funeral, I pace slowly, murmuring soothing words to William as he continues to fuss, overwhelmed by the emotions around him. Babies are like sponges.
“It’s okay, Will. You’re okay."
Calvin approaches me at the reception, weaving through the guests with an easy stride. He stops beside me, eyes flicking down to William nestled in my arms.
“I can take over the watching little man. Nate’s in the back, having a rough time. I think you should check on him.”
My chest tightens. I glance down at Will, his tiny fingers gripping the edge of my dress. He’s settled now, content after fussing through most of the service. I hesitate, but Calvin reaches out, his hands steady as he lifts Will from my arms.
“You’re sure? I don’t want to just pass him off on you.”
“Daisy, I got him. Go to Nate. He needs you more than Will does right now.”
A weight settles in my stomach. I nod, brushing a hand over Will’s soft hair before stepping back. Calvin secures him in his arms, rocking him with ease, a quiet grin forming as Will nuzzles against his chest. I linger a moment, watching them and then turn and weave through the crowd toward the hallway.
The church is quiet back here, away from the hum of conversation. As I pass the powder room, movement catches my eye through the slightly open door. I push it open.
Nate sits on a cushioned bench beside a vanity, his elbows resting on his knees, fingers tangled in his hair. His suit jacket is draped over a chair, his tie loosened, and the first few buttons of his shirt undone. His shoulders shake.
I step inside, shutting the door behind me. “Nate.”
He lifts his head, eyes red-rimmed, but doesn’t speak.
I sit beside him, the bench just wide enough for the two of us. Close enough that his warmth seeps into my skin. “You don’t have to do this alone.”
His jaw clenches. He exhales, rubbing his hands over his face. “I don’t know why it’s hitting me so hard. He wasn’t a good man. Hell, half the time I hated him.”
I place a hand on his arm. “He was still your father.”
His throat bobs with a hard swallow. “I keep thinking about Will. About how I’m supposed to raise him now. What if I mess it up? What if I become him?”
I squeeze his arm, grounding him. “You won’t. You know what not to do.”
His head drops to my shoulder, the tension in his body radiating through every inch of him. I shift, turning toward him, my hand cradling the back of his neck as he presses his face into the crook of my throat. His breath warms my skin, his scent wrapping around me in a way that makes it impossible to think about anything but him. Sandalwood and leather, grounding and intoxicating all at once.
I stroke the nape of his neck with my fingers, offering comfort where words fail. His hands rest on his lap at first, fists clenched, but as the silence stretches between us, his grip loosens. One hand moves to my thigh, heat seeps through the fabric of my dress. The other lifts, fingers tracing along my arm, hesitant at first, then more certain as he pulls me closer.
“Thank you for being here,” he murmurs against my skin.
“You asked me to be here.”
He exhales, his breath brushing my collarbone, and his fingers flex against my thigh, his grip tightening. He shifts, his other hand sliding around my waist, and in one fluid movement, he pulls me into his lap.
A quiet gasp escapes me as I settle against him. The bulge of his his hardening erection presses into my center through my underwear. The girth of it sends a shiver through me, and I shift, pressing closer, instinct taking over.
He takes in a deep breath. "You're perfuming, and you smell divine."
His lips find my neck, lingering over the sensitive skin just above my scent gland. A soft moan escapes me as his teeth graze the spot, a silent claim that sends heat surging through my center. His hands tighten around my waist and I grind against the hardness beneath me, desperate for more friction.
His breath comes out uneven. "You're killing me here."
"Then do something about it."
A growl rumbles in his chest, and before I can take another breath, he has me pinned against the vanity. His hands roam, gripping my hips, pulling me tighter against him. His mouth crashes against mine, all restraint gone, his tongue sweeps in to claim every part of me. I match his hunger, my fingers digging into his shirt, pulling him impossibly closer.
His thigh presses between my legs, dragging against my aching center, and I let out a strangled gasp. He swallows the sound, his lips never leaving mine as his hands slip under my dress, fingers tracing up my bare thighs. The rough scrape of his palms against my skin sends another pulse of need through me, my body arching into his touch.
The moment stretches, pulling us deeper. Then, with a sharp inhale, he stills. His grip eases, his forehead presses against mine. His breath is ragged, unsteady, but there’s something else in his eyes now, awareness.
He swallows hard. “We’re in a church.”
I blink, my heart still pounding in my chest. Reality crashes in around us. The quiet hum of voices just outside the door, the weight of where we are.
A shaky laugh bubbles up in my throat, and I let my forehead fall against his shoulder. “Right. Probably not the best place for this.”
His arms stay wrapped around me a moment longer before he exhales, pressing a kiss to my temple when I raise my head. “Later, I promise, we'll finish this.”
The huskiness in his voice sends another shiver through me, but I nod, untangling myself from his lap. We stand together, and he takes a steadying breath, putting his jacket back on and fixing his tie. We take a few moments to compose ourselves. I brush my fingers through my hair.
Once we're calm, he reaches for my hand, threading his fingers through mine. “Let’s go.”
I squeeze his hand in response, grounding us both before we step back into the reception. Things may be moving fast, but I've never felt more like I've found what I've needed for so long more than I do now. Nate, Calvin, and Peter are the pieces I was searching for. The family I'd always wanted when I saw packs in movies.