Page 55 of Red River

"That’s your choice, Igor. You can start acting normal, or you can keep up this weird rebellion."

"Weird rebellion? You don’t know the first thing about rebelling," he snarled before jumping to his feet and storming out of the kitchen, taking the stairs two at a time.

I sighed. It was still a long road ahead.

Archer and my younger sons worked on building the obstacle course until lunch, then went right back to it until late afternoon.

The only progress with Igor was that he’d started coming down for meals—but he still didn’t say a word, keeping his focus on his plate. His bedroom door hadn’t been put back yet. Archer had taken it somewhere, and Igor was probably too proud to ask for it.

Later in the day, the boys drove with Archer to the nearest chicken farm and brought back five additional chicks. I was relieved they weren’t tiny chicks but more like teenagers, so they didn’t need constant care. The boys helped Archer add another section to the coop, and they were all super excited.

My heart almost swelled when, while staring through the window, I caught the moment Lake hugged Archer for a second—a bit shyly, but with honest gratitude.

That evening, as I passed through the hallway, I saw Igor sitting at his computer.

I was tempted to go in and talk to him, but when I stopped in the doorway, he shot me a look that made me decide to give him a little more time.

So instead, I went back to my room and pulled my violin case from my suitcase. Van’s words today had awakened a hidden need in me. It had been over a month since I last played, and as I lifted my beloved instrument, stiffness crept into my fingers, uncertainty settling in. Once, this had come so easily to me…

A professional career had never been my goal—certainly not as a soloist (way too nerve-wracking!). I dreamed of being a music educator. But playing for hours on end always brought a kind of joy nothing else could. It filled an unspoken void within me, a quiet comfort I hadn’t realized I was missing.

It also usually stirred back childhood memories—playing with my family. My dad on piano, my father on guitar, me on violin, Winter on bass, and Snow on harmonica. We would jam for hours, and I cherished those moments.

Lately, I hadn’t been able to bring myself to play, but now… now I kinda needed to.

I played for about half an hour, letting myself get lost in the music—forgetting my stress, forgetting where I was.

Then, finally, I froze with the bow in my hand as I heard a soft knock.

"Come in."

The door opened, and Archer stepped inside.

A wave of excitement and anxiety passed over me. His gaze moved from me to the violin, then finally to my nest, where I sat at the center.

He stared at me with surprising intensity.

In the AO community, it wasn’t customary for an alpha to comment on an omega’s nest. Some did, especially those interested in a particular omega, but it wasn’t the norm.

Finally, Archer tore his gaze away from it and looked at me.

"It’s the most beautiful nest I’ve ever seen."

Heat rose to my cheeks—first, because he had the audacity to comment, which felt like a clear declaration of his serious intentions toward me. And second, because Thomas had never once acknowledged my nests—he had completely ignored them.

So this was… unexpected. And it left me with an oddly warm feeling inside.

Archer slowly sat on the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb the structure.

"Could you play for me, River?"

It was unavoidable anyway, so I nodded.

"Play something… personal," he added, his voice carrying a hint of melancholy.

I knew exactly what to play. But just as I lifted the bow, he stopped me.

"Let your hair down."

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