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* * *
Totally disoriented, I woke up to a room wrapped in darkness. It was one of those weird wake-ups where you’re not sure why you’re awake, but something just feels off. Blinking the sleep from my eyes, I checked my phone: 2:34 AM.
Why was I awake? Oh, right. The kids. They were sick. Anxiety hit me like a splash of cold water, and I was up, feet on the floor, heading for Belle and Tiana’s room.
Their beds were empty. Like, totally void of any kid action.
My heart went into overdrive, and I made a beeline for the hall, my mind going through all kinds of worst-case scenarios. Where were they? What if something had happened?
Then, as I moved down the hall, the sight that met my eyes stopped me cold.
Wolfe was crashed out on our sofa, his arms wrapped around Belle and Tiana like they were his own. They were zonked out, faces calm and serene. It was the cutest fucking thing I’d ever seen, and it did all sorts of weird things to my heart.
I stumbled back to my room, my mind a mess of thoughts and feelings I couldn’t untangle. I flopped onto my bed, staring at the ceiling. But sleep was like that annoying friend who just won’t answer your texts.
As the night turned into early morning, my mind kept replaying the scene over and over, trying to make sense of how I felt about it.
* * *
Idrifted back into sleep somehow, and when I woke up again, the sun was filtering through the curtains. Groggily, I stumbled into the shower, letting the hot water wash away the night’s revelations and my confusing tangle of emotions.
Toweling off, I caught the sound of Wolfe’s voice, stern and serious, drifting through the open window from the front porch. My heart thumped as curiosity got the better of me, and I crept over to listen in.
“Yes, Dad, I know the project is on a tight schedule, but I can’t leave Esme and the kids like this,” Wolfe was saying, his voice tight with frustration. “They’re all down with the flu, and Esme’s exhausted.”
The reply was muffled, but I swear I could feel his father’s frustration through the phone, the sharp edge of annoyance, words like “responsibility” and “commitment” cutting through.
“I understand the importance of the meeting, but this is more important. That’s all there is to it,” Wolfe snapped back defiantly.
More muffled words, harsher this time. My stomach turned as I made out something about “priorities” and “not getting sentimental over a woman and her kids.”
Steel suddenly underlying his words, Wolfe interrupted his father. “You need to watch how you talk. They’re not just some distraction; they’re people I care about. If you can’t respect that, you need to find someone else to run the project.”
The line went silent, and I could imagine his father’s face, red and fuming.
“Think it over.” Wolfe continued, his voice quieter now, but no less firm. “I’m not abandoning my responsibilities, but I have to stand by what’s right for me. They need me right now, and I’m not walking away from them. We can reschedule the meeting, or someone else can take it.”
A pause, a sigh, and then a begrudging, “Fine, Wolfe.”
I stepped away from the window, my head spinning. Wolfe had just stood up to his father for us. For me. Holy. Fucking. Fuck.
* * *
It was the day after we’d all been sick, and Wolfe had gone back to Raleigh for work. I was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling like it held the secrets of the universe or something. The kids were still out cold, and the house was eerily quiet. So why couldn’t I shake him from my thoughts?
His smile, the way he’d held Belle, his firm words to his father over the phone—all of it kept replaying in my mind.
I groaned and turned onto my side, but Wolfe’s face was still there, behind my closed eyes. The truth I’d been avoiding for so long was niggling at me, persistent and nagging. I couldn’t hide from it anymore, no matter how much I wished I could.
I rolled back over, my mind refusing to stop its relentless march down memory lane. I thought about the Wolfe I had first known—confident to a fault, a notorious playboy who lived for the moment without a care in the world. That version of Wolfe would have never spent the night on a couch with sick kids or stood up to his father like that.
But he had changed. And I had witnessed it firsthand. It was more than just a transformation; it was a complete metamorphosis. Gone was the carefree charmer. Replaced by a man who had become a steadfast friend and an unwavering father figure to my siblings.
It wasn’t just an act. He’d been there for us, time and time again. And it wasn’t out of obligation or to score points. It was real. It was sincere. The change was nothing short of astonishing. He had gone from clubbing till dawn to reading bedtime stories, from bar hopping to grocery shopping.
Okay, so what did that mean? I flopped back onto the bed, the soft rustling of the sheets filling the silence of my room.
I used to be so scared of letting him get close to the kids. But it wasn’t about him; it was about everyone who’d ditched us before. Mom, our dads. Everyone we ever trusted just took off.