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"It's okay," Charlie piped up. "Dad makes pancakes on Saturday mornings. You could come eat with us if you want."

"Charlie," Jonah warned.

"What? She's probably hungry, and you will have made way too much batter again."

Despite the awkwardness of the situation, I found myself smiling. "You know what? Pancakes sound really good."

Jonah blinked, clearly not expecting me to accept. "You don't have to..."

"I know." I stood up slowly, hyperaware of how my sleep shirt barely reached mid-thigh, how Jonah's eyes tracked the movement despite his obvious attempt to be respectful. "But I haven't had pancakes in years."

Because Marcus thought they were "empty carbs" and "unsuitable for an omega of my standing."

"Years?" Charlie looked scandalized. "That's terrible! Dad makes the best pancakes in the whole world."

"Charlie's a little biased," Jonah said, but there was warmth in his voice now. Pride. "But they're not bad."

"I should probably get dressed first," I said, suddenly conscious of my state of undress.

"Right. Of course." Jonah's cheeks flushed slightly. "We'll, uh, we'll be next door whenever you're ready."

"Can I take my nest?" Charlie asked hopefully. "Just to show you how it works?"

Jonah opened his mouth, probably to say no, but I beat him to it.

"Actually," I said slowly, "would you like to help me build a proper one later? I haven't had a chance to set up a nesting space yet, and I think I might want to."

The little girl's eyes went wide with excitement. "Really? You'd let me help?"

"If it's okay with your dad." I looked at Jonah, trying to read his expression. "I mean, I could use the advice. It's been a while since I've built a nest from scratch."

Something flickered across Jonah's face. Surprise, maybe, or concern. "You don't have to..."

"I want to," I said firmly. And realized, to my surprise, that I meant it.

There was something about Charlie's innocent enthusiasm, her complete acceptance of me as someone worth nesting with, that cracked open a part of my heart I'd kept carefully locked away. When was the last time someone had wanted to make me feel safe? When was the last time I'd even tried to build a real nest?

Not since before Marcus. Not since he decided my omega instincts were "undignified."

"Okay," Jonah said finally. "But first, pancakes. And Charlie, you're gathering up those blankets and apologizing properly for sneaking out."

"Okay, Dad." Charlie scrambled to her feet and started collecting the blankets with obvious reluctance. "But can we still build the nest later?"

"We'll see," Jonah said, but his tone suggested it was more of a yes than a no.

I watched them work together. Charlie chattering about wanting to research nest architecture while Jonah folded her blanket with practiced efficiency. There was an easy rhythm between them, the kind of comfortable domesticity that spoke of years of just the two of them against the world.

And now they were inviting me in.

But as I watched Jonah's careful movements, noted the way he double-checked the window locks and positioned himself between Charlie and the door, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was seeing something calculated. A performance designed to make me feel safe.

Trust was a luxury I couldn't afford. Not when wanting this kind of closeness felt like stepping off a cliff.

"Kit?" Jonah's voice pulled me from my thoughts. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah," I said, realizing I'd been staring. "Just... thank you. For not being angry about this."

"Angry?" He looked genuinely confused. "Why would I be angry?"