Page 45 of Nesting With My Three Alphas
"I think she will. She's got the right smell for staying."
I wasn't sure what that meant in Charlie's seven-year-old logic, but something about it felt true.
The storm continued for another hour, gradually losing intensity as it moved east toward the coast. By the time the thunder became distant rumbles, Charlie was asleep against my side, and the scent from next door had calmed to something closer to Kit's normal vanilla-and-honey baseline.
She was okay. Reed had helped her through whatever crisis the storm had triggered.
Reed had always been first to act, and usually that made him our best defense against whatever problems life threw at us. Tonight, it made me feel like I'd failed at something I wasn't sure I had the right to want.
When I finally fell asleep, it was to dream of storms and walls and a woman who smelled like vanilla but kept just out of reach.
The next morning dawned clear and crisp, with the kind of crystalline light that only came after big storms. I woke to find Charlie still curled against my side and the sound of voicesfrom Kit's backyard. Reed's low rumble and Kit's lighter tones, discussing what sounded like storm damage assessment.
Of course Reed was still there. Probably making sure she had everything she needed, fixing whatever the storm had broken.
Doing what I should have done.
"Morning, Dad." Charlie stretched and yawned. "Storm's over."
"Looks like it."
"Can we go see if Kit's okay? And maybe help clean up before school?"
The eagerness in Charlie's voice made it clear that refusing wasn't really an option. Besides, it was the neighborly thing to do. The fact that I was burning with curiosity about what had happened last night was completely secondary.
Keep telling yourself that.
We dressed quickly and headed outside, where the aftermath of the storm was evident in scattered branches, overturned planters, and the general debris that always followed severe weather. Kit's backyard had fared better than most. Reed must have secured anything that might have become a projectile.
"Good morning," Kit called when she saw us, her smile warm but careful. "Everyone sleep okay despite the excitement?"
She looked tired but not traumatized, her usual careful composure firmly in place. But I could see the signs now that I was looking for them. The way she held her coffee mug like a shield, the slight tremor in her hands when she thought no one was watching, the brightness in her voice that sounded more like armor than genuine cheer. Whatever had happened last night, she'd processed it and locked it away behind walls that were becoming frustratingly familiar.
"We did fine," I said, noting the way Reed was hovering protectively nearby. His protectiveness wasn't triumphant. It looked like it had cost him sleep too, dark circles under his eyessuggesting he'd spent the night on high alert. "How about you? That was a pretty intense storm."
"Oh, you know. Just one of those things you have to get through." Kit's voice was deliberately light, but I caught the way her knuckles went white around her mug. "Reed was kind enough to check on me when the power went out."
When the power went out? So that's what had brought Reed over. Practical concern about Kit managing without electricity, not the distress I'd been hearing through the walls.
Except I could see in Reed's expression that it had been more than that. He'd felt the same compulsion to help.
The difference was, he'd acted on it.
"Well," I said, forcing my voice to stay level, "I'm glad you weren't alone."
"Me too." Kit's eyes met mine briefly before skittering away. "These mountain storms are... intense."
"They take some getting used to," I agreed. "But you handled it well."
Did she, though? There were shadows under her eyes that suggested she hadn't slept much, and her scent still carried faint traces of anxiety beneath the determined normalcy she was projecting.
"Dad," Charlie said, apparently tired of adult conversation, "can we help clean up? I'm really good at picking up sticks."
"Of course, buttercup." I was grateful for the distraction, for something practical to focus on instead of the complicated dynamics swirling between the three adults.
We spent the next hour working together to clear storm debris, falling into an easy rhythm that felt almost domestic. Kit and Reed moved around each other with the careful awareness of people who'd shared space during crisis, while Charlie provided running commentary on the storm's impactand theories about where various pieces of debris might have originated.
It should have been comfortable. Should have felt like the natural progression of neighbors helping neighbors.
