"What about your mom?" I asked gently.
Charlie's expression dimmed slightly. "She died when I was little. Dad says she would have taught me about nesting and heat prep and all the omega stuff, but..." She shrugged with the heartbreaking acceptance of a child who'd learned too young that life wasn't fair.
Oh, sweetheart.
Before I could think better of it, I was reaching out to smooth her tangled hair. "I haven’t had the chance to make a real nest for… a long time. So long that I feel like I’ve forgotten most of it. Maybe we could learn together?"
"Really?" Charlie's whole face lit up. "You'd do that?"
"Of course." The words came out automatically, but as soon as I said them, I realized I meant it. When was the last time someone had looked at me like I had something valuable to offer? Like my omega knowledge was a gift instead of a weakness to be managed?
The sound of footsteps at the back door made us both freeze. Heavy, purposeful steps that could only belong to one person.
"Charlie?" Jonah's voice carried through the door, tight with barely controlled panic. "Charlie, are you in there?"
He thought something had happened to her. The terror in his voice made my heart clench.
"In here!" I called out. "She's safe!"
The door opened, and Jonah appeared in the doorway of the small room, his hair mussed like he'd been running his hands through it and his scent sharp with fear and protective fury. I'd apparently forgotten to lock it last night, and that must have been how Charlie got in.
His gaze took in the scene. Me kneeling on the floor in my sleep shirt, Charlie curled in her makeshift nest, the intimate domesticity of it all. Something shifted in his expression, something I couldn't quite read but that made my skin flush warm.
"Charlotte Mary Maddox," he said, his voice carefully controlled. "What did we talk about regarding other people's houses?"
"I know, but..."
"No buts." Jonah stepped into the room, and I caught the full force of his scent: cedar and clean sweat, but underneath it all, the metallic tang of real fear. "You scared me half to death, buttercup. I woke up and you were gone."
"I'm sorry, Dad." Charlie's voice was very small. "I just wanted to help Kit feel welcome."
Jonah's eyes met mine over his daughter's head, and I saw the exhaustion there. The bone-deep weariness of a single parent who carried all the worry alone. But there was something else too, something that looked almost like relief as he took in our mixed scents, the way Charlie had nestled so naturally into my space.
Jonah moved like someone who wouldn't hurt me. Which meant he probably would. Eventually. That was just math. The cynical thought rose automatically, a defense mechanism honed by two years of Marcus's careful manipulation.
But looking at him now, seeing the genuine fear for his daughter's safety, the careful way he held himself so as not to intrude on our space, it was hard to maintain that cynicism.
"It's okay," I said quietly. "She wasn't any trouble."
"That's not the point," Jonah said, but there was no heat in it. "Charlie, you can't just wander into people's houses. What if Kit hadn't been okay with it? What if she'd been scared?"
His protective instincts were showing, and damn if that wasn't the most attractive thing I'd ever seen. An alpha who understood that consent mattered, even when it came to a seven-year-old's nesting instincts.
"But she wasn't scared," Charlie protested. "She said my nest was nice."
Jonah's gaze sharpened, flicking to the arrangement of blankets and back to my face. "You nested here?"
"Just a little one," Charlie said defensively. "Her house didn't smell like anybody yet. It was lonely."
The silence that followed was loaded with undercurrents I didn't fully understand. Jonah stared at the nest like it held secrets, and when he looked at me again, there was something new in his expression. Something that made my omega instincts purr with satisfaction even as my rational mind screamed warnings.
He was cataloging our mixed scents. Approving of them.
The distant sound of church bells drifted through the window, a warm, community sound that reminded me this was a real place with real people who'd built traditions together. It was enough to wake me up to the reality of this situation.
"I should go," I said, starting to stand. "Let you two..."
"No." The word came out sharper than Jonah probably intended, and he immediately softened his tone. "I mean, you don't have to leave. This is your house."