Page 47 of Nesting With My Three Alphas
The explanation should have sounded mystical, but I could actually feel it happening. The sharp edges of my anxiety smoothing out, my breathing naturally matching the rhythm of the women around me. Creating art with others tapped into something deeper. An omega instinct not just to soothe, but to guide. Not control. Not demand. Just... invite someone to become more themselves.
"Portraits, mostly," I said, answering her earlier question. "I like trying to capture the emotions people think they're hiding."
"Oh, that's dangerous," Lily said with a grin. "You'll see right through all our small-town secrets."
"Which aren't really secrets anyway," Anna added. "Like how Mrs. Carrington has been making eyes at the new librarian, or how Sheriff Rowe pretends he doesn't know his deputies are running a betting pool on when you'll officially move in with the Maddox pack."
My brush paused halfway to the water cup. "There's a betting pool?"
"Anna," Mrs. P said gently, but she was fighting back a smile. "Not everyone needs to know about the betting pool."
"Why not? It's harmless fun." Anna finally looked up from her dragon, her eyes bright with mischief. "Deputy Martinez has next week, but I think he's wrong. You've got that look."
"What look?" I asked, despite myself.
"The look of someone who's already decided but hasn't admitted it to herself yet." Anna's gaze was uncomfortably perceptive for someone who couldn't be older than seventeen. "Like you're just waiting for the right moment to stop pretending you're still deciding."
The observation hit closer to home than I wanted to admit. Because Anna was right. I had decided, somewhere in the quiet moments between Jonah making me pancakes and Reed fixing my squeaky door and Micah appearing with exactly the right comfort food whenever I looked stressed. I'd decided two weeks ago when Charlie had fallen asleep in my lap out at the pumpkin patch, and Jonah had looked at us like we were the most precious thing he'd ever seen.
I'd decided, but I was still too scared to say it out loud.
"Well," Mrs. P said diplomatically, "decisions have a way of making themselves known when the time is right. In the meantime, why don't you try painting whatever comes to mind? Sometimes our hands know things our heads haven't figured out yet."
I dipped my brush in water, then in a warm golden color that reminded me of autumn afternoons and Charlie's laughter. Without really planning it, I found myself painting the view from Jonah's kitchen window. I sank into the familiar process of sweeping the paint across the canvas that I missed more than I realized. Slowly the details started to come together of the garden where we'd planted spring bulbs together, the trees that would soon burst into fall colors, the sense of home I felt every time I looked out at that particular patch of earth.
"That's beautiful," Lily said softly, leaning over to get a better look. "Is that the Maddox place?"
"Yeah." I added a touch of deeper gold to capture the way the light fell across the vegetable garden. "Charlie and I planted those bulbs. She said it was like planting hope."
"That child has an old soul," Mrs. P observed. "Sarah always said Charlie saw the world differently than most kids. More deeply."
The mention of Jonah's late wife created a complex twist in my stomach. Part guilt for loving the life she'd left behind, part sadness for the loss they'd all endured, part gratitude that she'd raised such an incredible daughter.
"You knew Sarah?" I asked.
"Oh yes, dear. Sarah was in this very art class for years. She had a gift for seeing beauty in ordinary moments." Mrs. P's expression was warm with memory. "She would have loved knowing you're here, continuing that tradition."
The words should have made me feel like an intruder, but instead they felt like a blessing. Like Sarah's memory wasn't something I needed to compete with, but something I could honor by loving the family she'd started.
"She sounds wonderful," I said quietly.
"She was. But you know what? So are you." Lily reached over and squeezed my hand briefly. "And anyone with eyes can seehow happy you make that family. Charlie practically glows when she talks about you."
Charlie talked about me? The thought made my chest warm in ways I wasn't ready to examine.
We painted in comfortable silence for a while, the room filled with the soft sounds of brushes against paper and the occasional murmur of conversation. I found myself relaxing in ways I hadn't expected, my shoulders dropping as the familiar meditation of creating took over.
"You've got a good eye," Mrs. P said after watching me work for a few minutes. "Not just for art. For people, too. The kind of eye that makes a very good teacher, if you ever decide to share that gift."
Teacher. The word sent a little thrill through me that I wasn't expecting. I'd loved helping other students back in college, before life got complicated.
This was what I'd missed during those two years with Marcus. Not just the art itself, but the community of creativity. The sense of belonging that came from being surrounded by people who understood that making something beautiful was essential, not frivolous.
"Kit," Anna said suddenly, "can I ask you something personal?"
"Shoot."
"What made you choose here? Hollow Haven's not exactly a destination town."
