Chapter Thirteen – Estelle
“Morning,” Leo murmured against her hair, his breath warm against her skin.
Estelle blinked slowly into awareness, savoring the cocoon of warmth they’d made beneath his sheets.
“Morning,” she whispered back, turning to face him. The tenderness in his eyes stirred something in her chest she wasn’t quite ready to name.
You can name it, her dragon said smugly. It’s called happiness.
It’s called vulnerability, Estelle corrected, though without her usual edge of fear.
Leo traced her cheek with his fingertips. “I should probably check on Adara.”
“She’s still asleep,” Estelle murmured, her senses fixed on her daughter. “But yes, we should get up.”
Leo kissed her forehead before sliding out of bed.
Estelle watched him pull on a T-shirt, appreciating the play of muscle across his back.
When he left the room to check on Adara, she allowed herself a moment to simply breathe, to feel the unfamiliar sensation of waking up somewhere without worrying she might need to flee.
Too good to be true, her practical side whispered.
No, her dragon countered. Just good. And true.
She was still smiling faintly at the exchange when Leo returned, his expression more serious than when he’d left.
“Adara’s fine,” he said, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Still asleep with Fizz and Snuggles.”
“But?” Estelle prompted, sensing there was more.
Leo took her hand, his thumb tracing circles on her palm. “There’s something I need to talk to you about.”
The warm bubble of contentment burst as Estelle sat up straighter, pulling the sheet with her. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” Leo said quickly. “It’s just...” He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “Last night was perfect. You and Adara being here, it feels right.”
Estelle nodded cautiously. “But?”
Leo met her eyes directly. “But I can’t keep my family in the dark much longer.”
Family. The word landed heavily. Estelle’s fingers tightened around the sheet.
See? Too good to be true, she said bitterly.
Wait, her dragon cautioned. Let’s hear him out.
“Your family,” Estelle repeated, the word feeling strange in her mouth.
“The Thornbergs,” Leo said gently. “My parents, my brothers, my cousins. They’re involved in each other’s lives. We’ve always been close. And they notice things.”
“Like when someone suddenly starts spending all their time with a woman and her child,” Estelle said, her voice flat.
“Yes.” Leo squeezed her hand. “I’m not saying we need to make some big announcement. I’m just saying they’re going to realize something’s changed with me. And if I don’t give them some kind of explanation, they’ll start looking for answers themselves.”
The implication was clear and terrifying. More people knowing about her and Adara meant more risk, more exposure, more ways for Margaret to find them.
He’s right, though, her dragon pointed out reluctantly. His family will notice. Better they hear it from him than start digging.
Estelle pulled her hand away, wrapping her arms around her knees. “How many people are we talking about?”
“My immediate family? My parents, five brothers, three of them with mates. Extended family is bigger, aunts, uncles, cousins...”
“And they all know each other’s business,” Estelle guessed.
Leo’s smile was rueful. “Pretty much. It’s not malicious. They just care. Maybe too much sometimes.”
Estelle tried to imagine it, a family so woven into one another’s lives that absence was noticed immediately, that changes were discussed, that someone new would be met with interest rather than suspicion. It was so far from her own experience that it felt almost unreal.
“What would you tell them?” she asked cautiously.
“The truth,” Leo said simply. “That I’ve met my mate. That it’s new and we’re taking things slow because of Adara.”
“And they’d accept that? They wouldn’t push for more?”
Leo’s hesitation told her everything.
“They’d push,” she concluded.
“They’d be curious,” he amended. “They’d want to meet you. Eventually.”
Estelle closed her eyes, imagining a room full of strangers, no, not strangers, Leo’s family. The thought made her feel queasy.
“Tell me about them,” she said finally. “Your family. What are they like?”
Leo’s expression softened. “They’re loud.
Opinionated. They argue about recipes and wine pairings like other families argue about politics.
” His smile grew fond. “My mom and dad are still the heart of it all, though they’re slowly starting to step back from some of the day-to-day at the restaurant.
My older brother, Caleb, handles the business side.
Matt has taken over kitchen duties. He’s quite the chef. ”
As he spoke, Estelle tried to picture these people, not as threats, but as individuals with lives and personalities. It was harder than it should have been.
“You sound... close,” she managed.
“We are,” Leo agreed. “Growing up, there was always someone around, someone cooking, someone talking, someone asking about your day. It could be overwhelming sometimes, but...” He shrugged. “You were never left wondering if you mattered.”
The simple way he said it made Estelle’s heart ache.
“I’ve never had that,” she admitted quietly. “Not really. I lost my parents young.”
Leo stayed still, letting her go on.
“I don’t remember much about them,” she said. “Only fragments. I mean, I know at least one of them must have been a dragon shifter, maybe both. But no one was there to explain any of it to me. No one to tell me what I was.”
The old loneliness rose in her again, but she kept going.
“When I started to feel different, I thought something was wrong with me. I was maybe a year or so from my first shift. I didn’t have words for any of it.
I just knew I felt... wrong in my own skin.
Restless. Too aware of everything.” She swallowed.
“So I did what I always did back then when life got too much. I ran off into the mountains to be alone.”
Leo’s gaze sharpened, but he said nothing.
“My first shift happened up there,” Estelle said quietly. “And it was terrifying. I didn’t know what was happening. I thought I was dying. I thought I’d lost my mind.” A brittle laugh escaped her. “Instead, I turned into a dragon and nearly flew myself off a cliff.”
Leo winced softly.
“I would have been completely lost if Maris hadn’t found me afterward. She taught me what I was. How to shift without fighting it. How to live with it.” Estelle’s voice softened. “Maris taught me how to be a dragon.”
She taught us how to be one. Two halves of a whole, her dragon said softly.
Yes, Estelle replied.
“And now there’s us,” she said aloud before she could stop herself.
Leo’s eyes warmed at the words. “Yes,” he said quietly. “There’s us.”
The simplicity of his answer steadied her. She thought of Adara sleeping downstairs, of how her daughter had taken to Leo instantly, of the way she’d explored his greenhouse with wide-eyed wonder.
What would it mean for Adara to have not just safety but belonging? To have people who knew her name, who watched her grow, who would one day help her understand what she truly was instead of fearing it?
It felt almost impossible.
“I’m not saying we need to introduce you to everyone at once,” Leo said, as if reading her thoughts. “We could start small. Maybe breakfast here, just with my parents and brothers.”
“Here? Not at the restaurant?” Estelle clarified.
“Here,” Leo confirmed. “Private. Controlled. On your terms.”
He’s offering us a middle ground, her dragon noted. Not hiding, but not full exposure either.
Estelle stood, needing to move while she thought. She walked to the window, looking out at the forest surrounding Leo’s house. Bear Creek had called to her, had pulled her here with a force she couldn’t explain. She had thought it was the mountains, the isolation, the promise of anonymity.
But maybe it had been more. Maybe it had been this, the possibility of something beyond survival.
“Adara would love them, wouldn’t she?” she murmured.
Leo came to stand behind her, not touching but close enough that she could feel his warmth. “They would adore her. My mom, especially. She’s been waiting for grandchildren for years.”
The casual inclusion of Adara in that category, grandchildren, made Estelle’s throat tighten.
They would claim her as family, her dragon realized with wonder. Not by blood, but by choice.
“I’m scared,” Estelle admitted, turning to face him. “Not just of Margaret finding us. I’m scared of... this. Of letting people in. Of trusting that they won’t hurt us, even by accident.”
“I know,” Leo said, his eyes gentle. “And I won’t push you faster than you’re ready to go. But I wanted to be honest about what staying here means. The Thornbergs are part of this place, part of me.”
Part of what we’re choosing if we stay, her dragon added.
Estelle thought of Adara, how her daughter’s face lit up when she discovered something new, how she treasured every small connection. How much she would gain from a family that embraced her.
“Breakfast,” she said finally. “Here at your house. We can... start there.”
The smile that spread across Leo’s face was slow and warm. “Thank you,” he said simply.
“Don’t thank me yet,” Estelle warned. “I might panic and change my mind three times before it happens.”
“You won’t,” Leo said with quiet confidence. “Not because you aren’t scared, but because you’ll do it, anyway.”
His faith in her touched something deep inside her. Estelle wasn’t used to having someone understand her fear and still believe she could face it.
“When?” she asked, practical concerns taking over now that the decision had been made.
“The day after tomorrow?” Leo suggested. “That gives us plenty of time to get everything ready.”
“But not too much time to change my mind,” she added.
Leo chuckled and kissed her cheek. “You’ll be fine.”
Estelle nodded, already mentally preparing. “I should get Adara up. She’ll be hungry.”
Leo caught her hand as she moved toward the door, pulling her gently into his arms. “Thank you,” he murmured against her hair. “For trusting me with this.”
Estelle let herself lean into him for a moment, drawing strength from his solidity. “I’m trying,” she whispered.
“I know,” he said. “That’s all I’m asking.”
As they moved to wake Adara and start the day, Estelle felt the familiar weight of fear in her stomach. But beside it was something new, a small, unsteady hope that maybe family could mean something different from what it had before.