11. Daisy
Chapter 11
I t’s a few days before Nate is set to return to hockey, and we’re spending the time helping him sort through his father’s house. Stacey’s family already came to collect what they wanted of her belongings, leaving the rest to Nate. He wants to clear it out so he can rent the house, turning it into another stream of income.
I stand at a bookshelf in the living room with Will in his gentle bounce swing. He holds a crinkly toy shaped like a firefly. He grabs at it with his tiny fingers moving it from hand to hand, fascinated by the noise it makes when he squeezes it.
Nate sifts through a stack of old papers and photo albums at the dining table. Calvin and Peter help in the other rooms, sorting through furniture and packing up boxes for donation. Every so often, Nate tosses an item into one of the piles, muttering about how much junk his dad kept over the years.
Flipping open a worn leather album, Nate exhales sharply. "Didn’t think he had any pictures of Will this young." He holds up a photo of a newborn, red-faced and swaddled in a hospital blanket. "Her family didn’t even try to fight for him. Guess they couldn’t take on a baby."
I glance up from Will, watching Nate study the photo. "Maybe they weren’t in the position to."
He scoffs. "Maybe. She always came off as a gold digger, though. My dad was in his sixties when they met. She was barely into her twenties." He shakes his head, tossing the album onto the table. "Still, I thought they’d put up more of a fight."
I squeeze Will’s tiny foot gently, the soft fabric of his onesie warm against my palm. "Well, he’s got you. And you’ve got us."
Nate’s gaze softens. "Yeah. That’s what matters now."
He goes back to sorting, setting aside a few more things to keep while tossing most of it into the donation pile. I return my focus to Will, gently shaking the crinkle toy near his face. He coos, his little hands reaching for it again.
The house feels different today. As if it's shifting from being a place of the past to something new.
Calvin lifts a box labeled "Kitchen Miscellaneous" and starts rummaging through it. His brows lift, brown eyes glinting with amusement. "Hey, do we need a fondue maker? Because we’ve got one."
I glance up from the pile of trinkets I’ve been sorting. "I mean... maybe? Fondue sounds fun."
Nate snorts from across the room, his green eyes flicking over the kitchenware. "When’s the last time any of us sat down and thought, ‘Man, I could go for some melted cheese’?"
Peter, who’s been quietly flipping through a stack of papers, finally looks up, adjusting his glasses. "If we take it, it’s just going to sit in a cabinet and collect dust."
Calvin grins, his red hair catching the light as he tilts his head. "Daisy’s interested, so we’re keeping it."
Nate shakes his head but doesn’t argue. I grin, enjoying the banter as I return to sorting through knick-knacks, my fingers brushing over old figurines and decorative plates.
Peter moves to my side, his lean frame dressed in a crisp button-up and dark jeans, always put together even while dealing with something as messy as packing up a house. His sharp blue eyes scan the items in the box I’m working on. "Anything worth keeping?"
I shake my head. "Not unless someone’s really into porcelain clowns."
Calvin shudders. "Hard pass."
I nudge the box aside and reach for another, the weight of it making my muscles strain slightly. Before I can shift it properly, a pair of strong arms reaches over me, taking it with ease. Nate. His scent—sandalwood and leather—wraps around me as he moves the box to a clearer space.
"Got it." He flashes me a quick smile before turning back to the work at hand.
I let out a breath, my skin still tingling from the casual brush of his fingers against mine. It’s been a few days since my heat ended, but moments like this remind me how much things have changed. How much I crave their touch, even now.
After a while I move William to his mat for some tummy time as we continue to work around him. After a bit helets out a small fuss from his baby mat, waving his tiny fists at the crinkle toy I set beside him. I crouch down, smoothing a hand over his soft brown curls. "Hey, buddy. Bored of tummy time already?"
Calvin kneels beside me, the ever-present warmth in his expression softening further as he tickles Will’s chubby belly. "He’s gonna be crawling before we know it."
Will gurgles, kicking his legs in response. Calvin chuckles, his broad chest rising and falling with the deep sound. His strong arms flex as he leans in, picking up one of the soft plushies nearby and handing it to Will. "Think he’ll be a hockey player like his big bro?"
Nate lets out a snort from across the room. "Not if I can help it. Kid deserves a stress-free life."
I smile, watching as Will grips the plush toy, his tiny fingers curling around it. "He just needs love and support. Whatever he chooses to do, we’ll make sure he's supported."
Peter stands, stretching his back with a wince before checking the time. "We should probably eat something before we start trying to load up boxes."
Nate wipes his hands on his jeans and nods. "I’ll order pizza."
Calvin perks up. "Get the stuffed crust."
Peter rolls his eyes but doesn’t protest as Nate pulls out his phone.
I settle onto the couch, stretching my legs out. Calvin drops onto the seat beside me, his arm draping casually over the back of the couch. His presence is easy, comfortable. I lean into him slightly, feeling the solid warmth of his body against mine.
Nate finishes the order and tosses his phone onto the coffee table. "Should be here in about forty-five minutes."
Peter sits in the armchair across from us, his long fingers tapping against his knee. His sharp, calculating eyes soften as he watches me. "You doing okay? It’s been a long day."
I nod. "I’m good. Just a lot to go through."
Calvin nudges my shoulder. "At least we got a fondue maker out of it."
I laugh, shaking my head. "Yeah, real prize there."
Peter smirks. "If I see it gathering dust in a month, I’m throwing it out."
I press a hand to my chest in mock offense. "I will use it. Just you wait."
Nate rolls his eyes, but his lips quirk in amusement. "Alright, let’s take a break while we wait for the food."
I sink deeper into the cushions, my body relaxing as the weight of the day settles into my bones. The house still carries the ghosts of Nate’s father, of Stacey, of a past that feels distant yet ever-present. But here, surrounded by them, I feel grounded. Safe.
For the first time in a long time, I don’t feel alone.
As we wait for the pizza, the four of us take a much-needed break. Will is on the floor, batting at the crinkle toy in his tiny fist, babbling softly to himself. Calvin and I sit on the couch, his arm resting along the back behind me, while Peter lounges in the armchair, one leg crossed over the other. Nate finishes tossing a few empty boxes into the pile for donation before dropping down beside me on the other side, his weight sinking the cushion beneath us.
Calvin stretches his legs out, cracking his knuckles. "So, about that fondue maker. You ever made fondue before?"
I shake my head, amused. "No, but now I kind of want to try. Could be fun."
Nate snorts. "Or a disaster. You do realize fondue involves molten cheese, right? I don’t trust Calvin not to turn this into a fire hazard."
Calvin feigns offense, pressing a hand to his chest. "Excuse me, but I happen to have excellent control over my culinary skills."
Peter smirks from his armchair, adjusting his glasses. "You nearly set the kitchen on fire making garlic bread."
Calvin waves a dismissive hand. "That was one time, and I maintain that the broiler was faulty. Anyway, fondue sounds like a good date night activity. Picture it: candles, wine, melted chocolate."
I glance between them, grinning. "That does sound nice. Maybe we should try it."
Nate nudges my knee. "You sure you’re ready to witness whatever monstrosity Calvin turns fondue into?"
Calvin scoffs. "I’m sensing a lot of doubt in my abilities here. I’ll have you all know that when I commit to something, I make it work."
Peter raises a brow. "Like the time you 'committed' to making homemade pasta and ended up covered in flour for an hour?"
Calvin groans, tipping his head back against the couch. "Why do you all remember the failures and not my successes?"
I laugh, leaning against Nate slightly. "Because your failures are more entertaining."
Calvin grumbles under his breath, but there’s amusement in his eyes. He tugs me closer into his side, and I let myself settle between him and Nate, their warmth surrounding me. The teasing continues as we debate the logistics of making fondue without burning the house down, the banter keeping the mood light as we enjoy this rare moment of stillness.
My phone buzzes. I glance down at the screen.
Freda:
Hey, how’s the new job? Hope you’re settling in okay.
My stomach twists. I haven’t told her about presenting as an Omega. I haven’t told her anything, really. And I’m not sure I want to, not yet. Not when I still feel the sting of her silence when Brent tore me down, her unwillingness to take my side. The ache of that betrayal lingers, and suddenly, the playful warmth of the room feels distant.
Calvin nudges me. "Everything okay?"
I force a smile, slipping my phone back into my pocket. "Yeah. Just a message from Freda." I've told them a little bit about Freda and Brent, they know enough to know I feel hurt.
Nate watches me for a beat, then shifts closer. "You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to."
I nod, grateful for the understanding. "I know. I just… don’t know what to say to her yet."
Peter hums. "Then don’t. Not until you’re ready."
I exhale, leaning into the comfort of their presence. Maybe I don’t have to have all the answers right now. Maybe, for now, it’s enough to just be here, surrounded by them, waiting for pizza and talking about ridiculous fondue plans.