Page 4 of Nesting With My Three Alphas (Hollow Haven #1)

"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?"

"Some people don't like children nesting. Or anywhere near omegas." The words slipped out before I could stop them, revealing more than I'd intended.

Jonah's expression went very still. "Some people are idiots."

The quiet conviction in his voice made my chest tight. Like it was the most obvious thing in the world, like anyone who felt differently was clearly wrong.

"I'll be over in a few minutes," I managed.

"Take your time," Jonah said. "Charlie, come on. Let's go start the pancakes."

"Can we make extra?" Charlie asked as they headed for the door. "In case Kit wants seconds?"

"Sure, buttercup."

"And can we use the special chocolate chips? The ones Micah brought from his bakery?"

"We'll see."

Their voices faded as they left the duplex, but the warmth lingered. I stood in the empty room, looking at the spot where Charlie had built her little nest, and felt something shift inside my chest.

The space still smelled like us, like family, and for one dangerous moment, I let myself imagine what it would be like to wake up to this every morning. To be part of something bigger than just survival.

I padded back to my bedroom and stood in front of the two suitcases I’d dragged upstairs last night.

They held my carefully curated wardrobe.

Marcus had always insisted I dress a certain way.

Tailored clothes in muted colors, nothing too casual, nothing that might suggest I was anything other than perfectly controlled.

But this was different. This was pancakes with a single dad and his pup who thought I was worth nesting with.

I pulled on a soft sweater in sage green, one of the few pieces I'd bought for myself instead of Marcus, and a pair of well-worn jeans that actually fit my curves instead of hiding them.

When I caught sight of myself in the mirror, I barely recognized the woman looking back.

My cheeks were flushed, my eyes bright with something I'd almost forgotten how to feel.

Hope.

Before I could lose my nerve, I grabbed my keys and headed next door. The scent of butter and vanilla drifted from Jonah's kitchen window, making my mouth water and my omega instincts purr with contentment. When was the last time I'd smelled food that was made with love instead of obligation?

I knocked softly, suddenly nervous. What if this was a mistake? What if I was reading too much into simple neighborly kindness?

But when Jonah opened the door, the smile that spread across his face chased away all my doubts.

"Perfect timing," he said, stepping aside to let me in. "Charlie's been asking every thirty seconds if you were coming yet."

"I heard that!" Charlie called from somewhere deeper in the house. "And it was only every minute!"

The inside of Jonah's duplex was a mirror image of mine, but where mine was empty and echoing, his was full of life.

Crayon drawings covered the refrigerator, a stack of library books teetered on the coffee table, and there was something that looked suspiciously like art supplies scattered across the kitchen counter.

"Sorry about the mess," Jonah said, following my gaze to the colored pencils and sketchpad. "Charlie's been working on a project for school."

"Are those watercolor pencils?" I asked before I could stop myself.

"Yeah, I think so. Charlie's been experimenting with different techniques." Jonah glanced at me curiously. "You know about art supplies?"

Dangerous territory. But something about the casual domesticity of the moment made my usual walls feel less necessary.

"A little," I admitted. "I used to... I like to draw sometimes."

"Really?" Charlie appeared in the doorway, chocolate smudged on her cheek and excitement bright in her eyes. "You draw too? What do you like to draw?"

"Charlie," Jonah said gently, "let Kit get settled before you interrogate her about her hobbies."

But I was already moving toward the art supplies, drawn by the familiar sight of creative tools laid out with care. "It's okay. I used to draw a lot of different things. Landscapes, mostly. Sometimes people."

"That's so cool! Could you maybe show me sometime? I'm trying to draw a picture of our house, but it’s all wrong and the windows look funny."

"I'd be happy to help," I said, meaning it. When was the last time someone had been excited about my art instead of dismissing it as a waste of time?

"Didn't know we had an artist next door," Jonah said softly, and there was something in his voice that made me look up. Something that looked almost like pride, like he was pleased to discover this new facet of who I was.

This is how people should react to your interests, a small voice whispered in my head. With curiosity and support, not criticism.

The air was rich with the scents of home. Coffee, pancakes, and underneath it all, the cedar-and-comfort smell that was purely Jonah. But now there was something else too. The warm, honeyed scent of my own omega satisfaction, weaving through the space like I belonged here.

This is what a house should feel like, I thought, and the realization didn't scare me as much as it should have.

"So," Charlie said, settling into her chair at the kitchen table, "when you help me build my nest later, can you also show me how to draw better windows?"

I laughed, surprised by how natural it felt. "That sounds like a perfect combination. Nesting and art lessons."

"The best Saturday ever," Charlie declared.

And as Jonah set a plate of perfectly golden pancakes in front of me, as Charlie chattered about her plans for our afternoon activities, as the church bells continued their gentle reminder that this was a place where community mattered, I had to admit she might be right.

For the first time in two years, I was looking forward to the day ahead.

Maybe, just maybe, being found wasn't the worst thing after all.

But even as I savored my first bite of homemade pancakes, even as I let myself enjoy the warmth of this makeshift family breakfast, a part of me remained cautious. Watching. Waiting. Maybe nothing this good came without a cost, but for now, I let that part of me wait.