Page 28 of Nesting With My Three Alphas
"The feeling's mutual," Kit replied, gently smoothing Charlie's hair back from her face. "She's an incredible kid, Jonah. You should be proud."
"I am. But I can't take all the credit. She's just naturally good at seeing the best in people."
"Like father, like daughter."
The simple words hit deeper than they should have. Kit was looking at me with something soft and warm in her expression, her free hand resting on the hay bale between us.
Without thinking, I reached out and covered her hand with mine. She didn't pull away, just turned her palm up so our fingers could intertwine properly. Her skin was warm despite the cool air, and I caught a subtle shift in her scent, something that spoke of contentment and maybe the beginning of trust.
"You look like you belong here," I said finally, the words coming out quieter than I'd intended.
"I didn't think I'd ever feel that again," Kit replied, her thumb brushing across my knuckles. "Belonging somewhere."
"You don't have to figure it all out today," I said, echoing words I'd told myself countless times over the past three years. "Just let yourself be okay now."
She was looking at me with those warm brown eyes, her lips slightly parted, and for a moment I thought about leaning closer. About finding out if she tasted as sweet as she smelled. About what it would feel like to kiss her while my daughter slept peacefully in her lap, surrounded by the golden light of an October afternoon.
But something held me back. Maybe it was the knowledge that Reed and Micah were both clearly interested in her too and there was an important conversation we needed to have first, or maybe it was just the understanding that Kit needed time to heal before anyone asked her to make that kind of choice.
Instead, I squeezed her hand gently and looked out at the passing orchard, trying to memorize the feeling of this moment. The three of us together, Kit's scent mixing with the crisp autumn air, Charlie safe and happy between us.
It felt like family. It felt like home.
The hayride ended too soon, the tractor pulling back into the barn as other families began gathering their things. Charlie woke up slowly, blinking in confusion before remembering where she was.
"Did I miss anything good?" she asked, stretching like a cat.
"Just some very pretty apple trees," Kit said, though her eyes were still on me. "Nothing too exciting."
Charlie seemed satisfied with that answer, jumping down from the wagon with renewed energy. "Can we get cider before we go? Please?"
"Of course," I said, helping Kit down from the wagon. My hands lingered on her waist longer than strictly necessary, and I caught her small intake of breath at the contact.
We bought steaming cups of mulled cider and fresh apple donuts, eating them while Charlie ran around the barn looking at the harvest displays. Other families milled around us, the comfortable bustle of a community tradition in full swing.
"Jonah Maddox," a familiar voice called from behind us. I turned to see Tom Corbin approaching with a grin. "Good to see you here again this year."
"Wouldn't miss it," I said, shaking Tom's hand. "Tom, this is Kit. She's new to town."
"Ah, the famous new neighbor," Tom said with a knowing smile. "Welcome to Hollow Haven, Kit. Hope Jonah's been showing you all the best spots."
"He has," Kit said, a slight blush coloring her cheeks. "This place is wonderful. I can see why it's a tradition."
"Thirty-two years running," Tom said proudly. "Sarah used to say we put on the best fall celebration in three counties."
I tensed slightly at the mention of Sarah, old habits making me expect the familiar pang of grief. But looking at Kit, who smiled warmly at the memory without any trace of jealousy or discomfort, I realized the pain had softened into something more like gratitude.
Sarah would have liked Kit, I thought. Would have appreciated her gentle way with Charlie, her genuine interest in community traditions. The thought didn't hurt the way it used to.
"She was right," I said simply. "You've built something special here."
We said our goodbyes and gathered our pumpkins, Charlie chattering about carving plans as we walked back to the truck. Kit was quiet on the drive home, but it was a comfortable silence, her hand resting near mine on the center console.
When we pulled up to my house, Charlie had fallen asleep again in the backseat, worn out by the day's adventures.
"I can wake her," Kit offered softly.
"No need. She's used to being moved when she's sleeping." I carefully lifted Charlie from her seat, and Kit immediately moved to help, opening doors and gathering Charlie's jacket and hat that had been discarded during the ride.
