Page 69 of My Three Hometown Alphas

Will takes a deep breath, seeming to relax. He presses a kiss to her temple.

Lyla pops back into view, hauling a gallon of chocolatey goodness toward us. Will steps away from Avery, and his arms fall back to his sides.

“I want this one,” Lyla says, loading the jug into the cart Owen’s pushing. She looks right at Will. “You can put your arm around Avery again. I get it. She’s cool.”

That’s my niece. She far more perceptive than she should be at her age. She’s also a bit devious.

If the glimmer in her eyes is anything to go by, she might be up to something. I think she’d do anything to keep Avery from leaving at the end of the summer.

Will grumbles something I can’t quite make out but tentatively puts his arm back around Avery. It’s a little less intimate than it was before, but it’s there.

“She’s a kid. Let her live her best eight-year-old life,” Avery says, returning all of us to what we were talking about before Lyla showcased her intuitiveness.

“She’s going to want twenty other things before we walk out of here,” Owen grumbles.

He isn’t wrong. She’s already distractedly looking at a display of fruit snacks at the end of the next aisle.

“She’d be a spoiled brat if we bought her everything she wanted,” I say.

Avery’s face softens as she glances in my direction. “She isn’t a brat. She’s one of the most kind and empathetic people I’ve ever met. Kid or adult.”

She reaches over, lacing her fingers through mine. Her eyes sweep over all three of us. “You guys have done a wonderful job with her. She’s amazing.”

Suddenly, this conversation is way too heavy to be having in the middle of the cereal aisle. The same emotion I feel clogging my throat is reflected in both of my brothers’ faces as they gaze down at the woman I’m pretty sure we’re all falling for.

I didn’t want it to happen. In fact, I was adamant it wouldn’t, but regardless, it’s where we are.

Doing what’s best for Lyla has been our sole focus for the last few years. Losing Liv was devastating, but taking care of Lyla gave us all a purpose, a reason to keep going.

Hearing Avery say we’ve managed to accomplish that with some sort of grace means more to all of us than she’ll ever know.

I’ve always been the light-hearted jokester in the family. Since Liv’s death, I feel like this role has become even more set in stone.

I miss my sister so much, but it isn’t the same as Lyla missing her mom, my parents missing their daughter, or Owen missing his twin. I don’t have any right to grieve in the same way they are when my loss pales in comparison to theirs.

Sometimes I wish I could just wear my heart on my sleeve like Owen does. That’s not who I am, though. I’ve always used humor to mask emotions I didn’t want to face. I do it not only for everyone else’s benefit but my own, as well.

Other than focusing everything I have into raising Lyla, it’s how I’ve survived the last few years. The ever-present voice in the back of my head tells me it probably isn’t the healthiest way to cope in the long run, but per usual, I force that logic to the recesses of my brain.

Lyla chooses that moment to poke her head around the partition. “Why are you all just standing there? Let’s go, old people.”

Her eyes catch on me and the way my hand is attached to Avery’s. Lyla gives me a little smirk before ducking her head back out of view.

We all laugh as we walk in the direction she stomped off to get everything we need to make tacos for dinner.

“She’s also one of the sassiest kids I’ve ever met, so that’s on you guys, too,” Avery says with a playful smile.

Owen shakes his head. “That’s all Liv. She was ten times sassier than Lyla is.”

My eyes widen, but I keep the rest of my expression even. Owen rarely brings up Liv on his own. He would never deny Lyla if she asked him something or wanted to talk about her mom, but to hear him mention her so casually is shocking.

Maybe it means he’s starting to heal, even just a little bit. I’m pretty sure I know the source of that healing, too.

Will glances at me over Avery’s head. He’s clearly thinking the same thing.

“Well, she grew up with three brothers. She had to hold her own,” Avery says.

Owen shocks us yet again. “She did more than that. It was her world. We were just living in it.”