Page 54 of The Alpha's Broken Oath

Just like I’ve done for the last couple of hours, I sit by the window, staring at my boys below.

Right now, he’s teaching them to play baseball, and that ball of guilt in my throat only grows bigger.

Adrian and Asher stand on one end of Deacon’s vast garden, and Deacon stands on the other end.

Deacon has a baseball glove in his hand and a bucket of baseballs near his feet. Taking one out, he throws it to Adrian.

Of course, my baby, who’s never caught anything with his tiny hands, fails to catch it.

“It’s okay. No one gets it on the first try. Get the ball, come on, buddy.”

Adrian runs and gets the ball.

“Throw it back to me,” Deacon encourages.

Hesitant at first but encouraged by Deacon’s smile, Adrian throws the ball, and Deacon catches it, cheering the minute he does so.

“You did it, buddy.”

“I did it! I did it, Ash!” Adrian jumps.

Goddess, does it get better than this? Seeing my kids play with a father they’ve wanted all their entire lives.

“Are you ready, Ash? It’s your turn.”

I told Deacon he wasn’t their father, so why is he still playing with my boys? Why is he still treating them like… he loves them? Like he won’t reject them no matter what I say?

Ash fails to catch the ball like his brother, but Deacon encourages him to throw the ball back.

Just like before, Deacon cheers when Ash throws the ball back. They celebrate the small win in the form of Deacon chasing them all around his garden.

I’m hung up on their smiles.

I’m hung up on the way Deacon looks at Ash and Adrian like he knows they are going to slip away from him anytime now, but he’s trying his best to live in the moment.

I ache for that look on his face. He brought me unimaginable pain once upon a time, but is it fair to bring him the same pain by keeping his kids away from him?

I have to tell him my boys are his.

“He’ll love Adrian and Ash,” my wolf encourages.

Dinner passes like a whirlwind because the boys are too tired from running around all night. They both fall asleep in their chairs on the dinner table, and I’m already standing up, ready to pick them up and take them to their rooms, when Deacon beats me to it.

“I’ll carry them,” Deacon offers.

“I can help. I know both of them are heavy.”

“I got them, Winter. I’ll tuck them in bed. Is that okay with you?” Sure, there’s a smile on his face when he says that, but I can see the plea in his eyes. He’s never tucked them in bed, and he’s asking me for permission.

“Sure. That’s okay with me.”

Carrying them on both arms, making sure not to drop them, he offers me an appreciative smile before saying, “I’ll be back, baby.”

I want to say, “I’ll be waiting for you, Deacon,” but the words never leave my mouth.

Instead, I watch him take my boys upstairs, and the minute he’s out of sight, I stand up and take the empty, dirty dishes to the kitchen before I start pacing around with sweaty palms.

How do I even start telling him that they are his kids? How do I tell him that I never told him about it because I thought he would be a bastard to my kids like he was to me, as I initially thought?

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