Page 40 of Nesting With My Three Alphas (Hollow Haven #1)

I looked around at my family. Because that's what they were, what we all were. And I felt something loosen in my chest. The fear that had been living there since Marcus, the constant anxiety about being a burden, about not being enough.

"You really want to do this?" I asked quietly. "Buy a house together?"

"I want to build a home together," Jonah corrected. "For all of us. For as long as you'll have us."

"Forever," Charlie said immediately. "We're building forever remember."

"Forever sounds perfect," I said, and meant it.

The house hunting started that afternoon. We piled into Reed's truck. Charlie in the front, me between Jonah and Micah. We drove around Hollow Haven looking at properties.

The first house was too small. The second was too expensive. The third had a strange smell that made all their alpha instincts ping with discomfort.

It was the fourth house that made us all go quiet.

"Oh," Charlie breathed as we pulled up to the white farmhouse with the wraparound porch and the big oak tree in the front yard. "Oh, this one feels right."

Something about the house called to every nesting instinct I possessed. It was larger than anything I'd ever imagined living in, with dormers and a covered porch and what looked like a separate building that could be an art studio.

"It's beautiful," I said softly.

"It's expensive," Reed said, looking at the listing information. "But not impossibly expensive. Not if we're serious about this."

"I'm serious," Jonah said immediately.

"Me too," Micah added.

"Me three," Charlie chimed in.

They all looked at me, waiting for my answer. Waiting for me to choose this family, this future, this leap of faith into something bigger than I'd ever dared to dream.

"I'm serious too," I said, my voice steady despite the magnitude of what we were discussing. "Let's go look inside."

The realtor met us at the front door. A cheerful woman named Susan who knew Jonah from some construction project and immediately started gushing about what a lovely family we made.

"Five bedrooms," she was saying as she led us through the front hall, "three and a half baths, completely updated kitchen, and that sunroom at the back would make a perfect artist's studio."

I tried to play it cool, tried not to look too eager as we walked through rooms that seemed designed for our exact family configuration.

But when we reached the sunroom, all windows and natural light, with built-in shelving and enough space for multiple easels, I couldn't hide my reaction.

It looked out over the back of the property to where an old barn sat.

It was the house you dreamed off when you thought of happily ever afters.

"This is perfect," I whispered, turning in a slow circle to take in the space.

"There's also a workshop area in the basement," Susan continued, leading Reed toward a door marked with promising tool-related scuffs from the previous owners. "And the master bedroom has an en-suite that's been completely renovated."

Charlie had found the room that would obviously be hers. Painted lavender with built-in bookshelves and a window seat that overlooked the backyard.

"Can we get it?" she asked, pressing her face against the glass. "Please? It even has a good nest spot!"

She was pointing to an alcove near the window that was exactly the right size for a child's nest, naturally sheltered and cozy.

"What do you think?" Jonah asked me quietly while Susan showed Reed and Micah the updated electrical systems.

"I think it's perfect," I said honestly. "I think it's everything we could want and more than I ever thought I'd be allowed to have."

"You're allowed to have anything you want," Jonah said firmly. "We all are."

The negotiations took three days. Three days of phone calls and paperwork and financial discussions that made my head spin. But Reed and Jonah handled most of the business aspects while Micah focused on the practical details of moving his life between the bakery and a new house.

I tried to wrap my head around the fact that I wasn't just moving in, I was building something of my own. That we were going to be homeowners. That this wasn't temporary or conditional or dependent on my continued good behavior.

"It's really happening," I said to Micah the night before we were supposed to sign papers. We were in the kitchen. The cramped, too-small kitchen that had somehow become the heart of our temporary life. He was making late-night snacks because Reed was stress-eating and Jonah was stress-not-eating.

"Having second thoughts?" Micah asked gently, not stopping his methodical sandwich construction.

"Third and fourth thoughts," I admitted. "What if I'm not cut out for this? What if I can't handle being responsible for a whole house? What if my art career never takes off and I end up being a financial burden for the next thirty years?"

Micah set down his knife and turned to face me fully. "Kit, do you trust us?"

"Of course."

"Do you trust that we love you?"

"Yes." The answer came easier now than it would have a month ago.

"Do you trust that we wouldn't make this decision lightly?"

I considered that. Jonah, who'd spent years building a stable life for Charlie. Reed, who approached every project with meticulous planning. Micah, who'd learned hard lessons about the fragility of happiness and wouldn't risk what we'd built without serious consideration.

"Yes," I said finally.

"Then trust this too." Micah stepped closer, his warm hands framing my face. "Trust that we're building something worth building. Trust that you deserve this happiness. Trust that love isn't a transaction that requires constant payment."

"I'm scared," I whispered.

"Good," Micah said softly. "Being scared means it matters. Being scared means you're brave enough to want something big and beautiful and real."

"What if I mess it up?"

"Then we'll fix it together. That's what families do."

The signing happened on a Thursday morning, all four adults clustered around a conference table while Charlie colored in a corner and provided running commentary on the proceedings.

"That's a lot of papers," she observed as we worked through the stack of documents.

"It's a lot of house," Reed replied, signing his name with a flourish.

"Are you sure we can afford it?" I asked for the hundredth time as I stared at the final purchase agreement.

"We can afford it," Jonah said patiently. "Kit, we've been over the numbers. Between all our incomes and the equity from selling this house, we're actually in really good shape."

"Plus I'm contributing my seventeen dollars," Charlie added helpfully.

"Plus Charlie's significant financial contribution," Micah agreed seriously.

When it was my turn to sign, I stared at the line where my name would go. Kit Lennox. Soon to be, potentially, Kit Maddox-West-Thornton, though we hadn't quite figured out the logistics of that particular complication.

But seeing my name there, claiming ownership of something beautiful and permanent and ours, it felt like the final step in becoming someone I actually liked being.

I signed my name with a steady hand.

"Congratulations," the lawyer said, shaking hands with all of us. "You're officially homeowners."

"We did it," Charlie said, bouncing in her chair. "We got the house!"

"We got the house," I repeated, still not quite believing it.

"We got the house," Reed confirmed, pulling me into a hug that smelled like relief and motor oil and home.

That afternoon, we drove to our new house with the keys in Jonah's pocket and big plans for how we'd arrange everything.

"Art studio first," Charlie announced as we walked through the front door. "Kit needs to see her space."

So we trooped to the sunroom, where late afternoon light streamed through the windows and made everything glow golden.

"This is really mine?" I asked, running my fingers along the built-in shelving.

"This is really yours," Jonah confirmed.

"Ours," Reed corrected. "Everything here is ours."

I stood in the center of my new studio, surrounded by my three alphas and our daughter, and felt something settle deep in my chest. Something that had been restless and searching for as long as I could remember.

"I love you," I said suddenly, looking around at all of them. "I love you all so much it scares me sometimes."

"Good scared or bad scared?" Charlie asked.

"Good scared," I said, crouching down to her level. "The kind of scared you get when something is so perfect you're afraid it might disappear."

"It won't disappear," Charlie said seriously. "We signed papers. It's official."

"She's right," Micah said softly. "This is real, Kit. This is ours. You're ours, and we're yours, and this house is where we're going to build our forever."

"Forever," I repeated, letting the word settle on my tongue like something sacred.

"Forever," they echoed back.

And standing in the golden light of my new studio, surrounded by my chosen family in our chosen home, I finally believed it might be true.