Page 39 of Nesting With My Three Alphas (Hollow Haven #1)

Kit

T he crash from upstairs made everyone in the kitchen freeze. Charlie's art supplies tumbling down the narrow staircase in a cascade of glitter, colored pencils, and what sounded like half her dinosaur book collection.

"I'm okay!" came her cheerful voice from somewhere above the chaos. "But I think we need a bigger house!"

Reed snorted into his coffee. "Kid's got a point."

I looked around Jonah's kitchen. Our kitchen now, technically.

Four adults were currently playing an elaborate game of human Tetris just to make breakfast. Micah stood at the stove, his broad shoulders taking up most of the cooking space while Jonah squeezed past him to reach the coffee pot.

Reed sat at the small table that was really only meant for two, his long legs folded at impossible angles, while I perched on the counter because there simply wasn't anywhere else to sit.

Two weeks of this. Two weeks of stepping around each other, sharing one bathroom between four adults and a child, and trying to find privacy in a house where the walls were so thin I could hear Micah's heartbeat through the bedroom door.

"She's not wrong," Jonah said quietly, following my gaze around the cramped space. "This worked when it was just Charlie and me, but..."

"But now you've got three extra-large alphas cluttering up the place," Reed finished with a grin that didn't quite hide his concern.

"It's not that," I said quickly, not wanting anyone to feel unwelcome. "It's just…"

Another crash from upstairs, followed by Charlie's voice: "Found my backpack! It was under Reed's toolbox!"

"Why is my toolbox in Charlie's room?" Reed called back.

"Because there's no room for it anywhere else!" came the reply.

Micah turned from the stove, spatula in hand, his kind eyes taking in our increasingly ridiculous living situation. "We need to talk about this, don't we?"

The adult conversation I'd been dreading. Because talking about needing more space meant talking about money, and talking about money meant confronting the fact that I had absolutely nothing to contribute to any solution.

"I know what you're all thinking," I said, sliding down from the counter and crossing my arms defensively. "And before anyone starts being noble about it, I want to say that I know I'm the problem here."

"Kit…" Jonah started.

"No, let me finish." I took a deep breath, forcing myself to be honest even though it made my chest tight with anxiety.

"You three all have established lives, established incomes.

Jonah's got his construction business, Micah's got the bakery, Reed's got his maintenance business.

And then there's me, with limited savings, no job, and a fledgling art career that might never amount to anything. "

The silence that followed felt loaded with all the things none of us wanted to say out loud.

"So when we start talking about buying a bigger house," I continued, "I want you to know that I understand my position here. I'm grateful for everything you've given me, but I can't contribute anything financial to…"

"Stop." Reed's voice cut across my spiraling anxiety with sharp authority. "Just stop right there."

I looked at him, expecting to see pity or gentle dismissal. Instead, his green eyes were blazing with something that looked like anger.

"You think you don't contribute anything?" Reed stood up, his chair scraping against the floor. "You think what you bring to this pack is worth nothing?"

"Reed," Micah said gently, but Reed held up a hand.

"No, she needs to hear this." He stepped closer, his scent shifting to something protective and fierce. "Kit, who made Charlie's lunch every day this week when Jonah had to leave early for work?"

"That's just…"

"Who organized Micah's entire spice cabinet so he could actually find things while cooking?"

"Anyone could have…"

"Who spent three hours last night helping me figure out the books for my business because I'm shit at paperwork?"

I opened my mouth to deflect again, but Reed wasn't finished.

"Who's been teaching art classes at the community center, bringing in new people and making connections that are already getting Micah more catering requests?"

"You're raising Charlie," Jonah said quietly, his voice rough with emotion. "You're making her laugh again, making her feel safe enough to be a kid instead of worrying about whether her dad is eating enough or sleeping enough."

"You're healing this whole town's omega population," Micah added, turning fully away from the stove. "Do you have any idea how many people have told me that your art class is the first time they've felt comfortable expressing themselves in years?"

"But that's not…" I started, then stopped. Because maybe it was. Maybe the things I'd been dismissing as basic human decency were actually... valuable.

"Kit," Jonah said, moving closer until I was surrounded by all three of them, "you're thinking like Marcus taught you to think. Like the only value a person has is financial."

The name hit me like a slap, because he was right. Marcus had spent two years conditioning me to believe that my worth was tied to my economic productivity, that love was something you earned through usefulness rather than something you deserved simply by existing.

"We're not buying a house," Reed said firmly. "We're investing in our family's future. All of us. Together."

"But I can't pay…"

"You're paying," Micah said softly. "Every time you make Charlie giggle. Every time you organize something that makes our lives easier. Every time you create something beautiful that reminds us why life is worth living."

Charlie's voice floated down from upstairs: "Are you guys having a feelings talk without me? Because I have opinions about the house thing!"

Despite everything, I found myself smiling. "She really does have opinions about everything."

"Wonder where she gets that from," Jonah said dryly, but his eyes were warm.

"Should we include her in this conversation?" I asked.

"Definitely," Reed said. "This affects her too."

"Charlie!" Micah called. "Come down here! House meeting!"

The thunder of small feet on stairs announced Charlie's arrival, and she bounced into the kitchen with her hair in lopsided pigtails and glitter somehow already embedded in her cheek.

"Are we talking about getting a bigger house?" she asked without preamble. "Because I've been thinking about this a lot, and I have a list."

"Of course you do," I said, lifting her up to sit on the counter beside me. "What's on your list?"

"Okay," Charlie said seriously, pulling a folded piece of paper from her pocket. "First, we need more bathrooms. Four adults and one kid sharing one bathroom is mathematically impossible."

Reed choked on his coffee. "Mathematically impossible?"

"I did the math," Charlie said proudly. "If everyone needs ten minutes, and we all have to get ready at the same time, that's fifty minutes for one bathroom. It doesn't work."

"She's got a point," Jonah said, ruffling her hair.

"Second," Charlie continued, consulting her list, "Kit needs an art studio. A real one, with good light and space for big canvases."

"Charlie…" I started, but she held up a small hand.

"Third, we need a big kitchen so Micah doesn't have to do the sideways dance around everyone when he's cooking."

"The sideways dance?" Micah asked, amused.

Charlie demonstrated, wiggling sideways with her arms pressed to her sides. "Like this! You do it every morning!"

"Fourth," she went on, "we need a workshop space for Reed so his tools aren't scattered all over my room."

"Hey, that's only temporary!" Reed protested.

"And fifth," Charlie finished triumphantly, "we need a really, really good nest room. With space for everyone and soft things and maybe a fireplace."

The adults exchanged glances over her head. Leave it to a seven-year-old to cut through all our complicated feelings and get straight to the practical necessities.

"That's a very thorough list," I said carefully. "But sweetie, houses like that cost a lot of money."

"So?" Charlie looked genuinely confused. "We have three dads with jobs. And you're gonna sell your art for lots of money. And I have seventeen dollars saved up."

"Seventeen dollars, huh?" Reed said seriously. "That's a solid contribution to the house fund."

"I know, right? I've been saving for months."

Jonah was looking at his phone, scrolling through something with a frown. "Actually, Charlie might be onto something. I've been looking at the market here, and if we combine our resources..."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"I mean, I've got equity in this house, plus business savings. Reed's been banking his income for years because he's got nowhere to spend it in this tiny town. And Micah's got the bakery building and a solid customer base."

"Together, we could probably afford something really nice," Micah said thoughtfully. "Something with space for everyone to breathe."

"But I still can't contribute anything to a down payment," I said, the anxiety creeping back in.

"Kit." Jonah's voice was patient but firm. "You contributed Charlie's happiness. You contributed our pack bond. You contributed a future none of us thought we'd ever have. If you want to talk about down payments, that's the only one that actually matters."

Charlie nodded sagely. "Plus, when you sell your paintings for a million dollars, you can pay us back."

"A million dollars?" I laughed despite myself.

"At least," Charlie said seriously. "Your art is really good. Mrs. Carrington said so, and she knows about expensive things."

"Well, if Mrs. Carrington said so," Reed said with mock solemnity.

"She did! She said Kit's portrait of Mr. Carrington made him look 'distinguished' instead of 'like a grumpy old goat.'"

"High praise indeed," Micah murmured.