Page 6 of Nesting With My Three Alphas (Hollow Haven #1)

"Are you gonna open a business?" Charlie asked around another bite of pancakes. "Micah says new people sometimes open businesses. Like art stores or bookshops or places that sell fancy soap."

Kit smiled. "I haven't decided yet. I’ll probably do some freelance work from home for a while."

"What kind of work?" I found myself asking.

"Design stuff. Marketing materials, mostly. Nothing too exciting."

The way she said it suggested it used to be exciting, or at least more fulfilling than she was making it sound now. More puzzle pieces that didn't quite fit together yet.

My phone buzzed against the counter, and I glanced at it automatically. A text from Reed: Saw smoke from the Carringtons' chimney. Flue might be blocked. Mind if I swing by to check it out?

"Everything okay?" Kit asked, noticing my frown.

"Yeah, just work stuff," I said, typing back a quick go ahead. "Reed thinks there might be an issue with one of the houses I helped renovate. Nothing urgent."

"Reed's the one who came by yesterday?"

"Yeah. He's..." I searched for the right way to describe Reed. "He's good people. A little too charming for his own good, but reliable when it counts."

"And Micah seems lovely," Kit added.

"He is. His mate walked out on him a few years back, but he's one of those people who deals with grief by taking care of everyone else. Half the town's probably had dinner at his place at some point."

Something flickered across Kit's face. Recognition, maybe, or sympathy. "That's hard. Someone treating you like that."

"Yeah." I looked at Charlie, who was listening with the intensity she applied to everything. "But he's building something good here. We all are."

The implication hung in the air between us. That she could be part of that building, if she wanted. That there was space for her in the small community that had become home for Charlie and me.

Kit's phone chimed, and she glanced at it with a frown. Whatever she saw there made her shoulders tense, her scent shifting subtly from warm contentment to something sharper. More guarded.

"Everything alright?" I asked.

"Fine," she said quickly, but she was already standing, gathering her plate. "I should probably get going. Let you two get on with your Saturday."

"But we haven't talked about the nest yet!" Charlie protested.

"Later, buttercup," I said gently, though I was watching Kit with growing concern. Whatever that text had said, it had spooked her. "Kit probably has things to do."

"Of course," she said, but there was a brittle quality to her smile now. "Thank you for breakfast. It was wonderful."

"Kit," I started, not sure what I wanted to say, but knowing I couldn't just let her leave like this.

"I'm fine," she said, reading the concern in my voice. "Really. Just... something I need to deal with."

I wanted to push, wanted to demand to know what had put that look in her eyes. But I recognized the walls going back up, the careful distance she was putting between herself and whatever comfort she'd found at my table.

"You know where to find us," I said instead. "If you need anything."

She nodded, already moving toward the door. "Thanks again."

I watched her go, noting the tightness in her shoulders, the way she seemed to be steeling herself for something unpleasant. Every instinct I possessed was screaming at me to follow her, to make sure she was safe, to stand between her and whatever had put that fear in her scent.

But she wasn't mine to protect. Not yet.

Maybe not ever.

"Dad?" Charlie's voice pulled me back to the present. "Is Kit okay?"

"I don't know, buttercup," I said honestly. "But I hope so."

The kitchen felt too quiet without her laughter, too empty without her presence. I started clearing the dishes, trying to ignore the way the lingering traces of her scent made my alpha want to pace and snarl at invisible threats.

"Dad?" Charlie's fork clinked against her plate as she set it down. "Can we still help Kit with her nest later?"

"We'll see, buttercup. She might need some time to herself today."

"But she promised." There was a wobble in Charlie's voice that made my chest tight. "She said she wanted my help."

I crouched down beside her chair, meeting her worried eyes. "Hey. Kit's not going anywhere, okay? Sometimes adults have things they need to take care of, but that doesn't mean they don't want to spend time with you."

"Like when Mom had to go to the hospital?"

The innocent question hit me like a punch to the gut. Charlie rarely brought up Sarah anymore, but when she did, it was always with this matter-of-fact acceptance that broke my heart.

"No, buttercup. Not like that." I smoothed her hair back from her forehead. "Kit just got a message that made her worry about something. But she'll be okay."

"Can we make sure?"

"What do you mean?"

Charlie's face took on the determined expression I knew meant trouble. "We could bring her some pancakes. In case she's too worried to make lunch."

Despite everything, I found myself smiling. My daughter had inherited her mother's nurturing instincts along with her stubborn streak. "That's very thoughtful of you."

"And maybe we could check if her back door is locked properly," Charlie added innocently. "For safety."

The same back door she'd used to sneak into her house this morning. "Charlie..."

"What? You always say we should look out for our neighbors."

She had me there. And the truth was, every instinct I possessed was screaming at me to check on Kit, to make sure whatever had spooked her wasn't a real threat. The way her scent had shifted from contentment to anxiety in the space of a heartbeat had set my teeth on edge.

My daughter wanted to protect her, and damn if that didn't make me want to keep her too.

"Alright," I said, making a decision that was probably more about my need to see her safe than Charlie's desire to be helpful. "We'll pack up some pancakes and go check on her. But if she says she needs space, we respect that, okay?"

"Okay!" Charlie bounced up from her chair, already heading for the cabinet where I kept the takeout containers. "Should we bring syrup too?"

"Definitely syrup."

We worked together to pack up the extra pancakes, Charlie chattering about nest-building techniques while I tried to ignore the growing unease in my gut.

Kit's reaction to that text had been too sharp, too immediate, for it to be anything good.

Then I shooed her up the stairs to wash her face and brush her teeth.

It could have waited but it would at least buy Kit an hour of peace and quiet before we barged in on her.

Who was texting her? An ex-partner? Family? Someone from whatever life she'd left behind?

The possessive growl that rumbled up from my chest surprised me with its intensity.

I had no claim on Kit, no right to feel territorial about some mystery person from her past. But logic didn't seem to matter to my alpha instincts, which had apparently decided she was worth protecting whether she wanted my protection or not.

"Ready, Dad!" Charlie announced, after I’d had to send her back upstairs three times to brush her hair, put some sock on and then to put the other sock on because apparently I hadn’t been specific enough the first time.

Now she was standing at the door, shoes on and holding up the container of pancakes like a trophy.

"Ready," I agreed, grabbing my keys and trying to push down the surge of anticipation that came with the thought of seeing Kit again.

We walked across the small strip of yard that separated our front doors, Charlie practically vibrating with excitement beside me. The morning air was crisp with the promise of autumn, and somewhere in the distance I could hear the sound of Reed's truck pulling up to the Carrington place.

Normal Saturday morning sounds in a normal small town.

So why did I feel like I was walking into something that would change everything?

I knocked on Kit's door, listening for movement inside. For a moment there was nothing, and I wondered if she'd decided to go out, to escape whatever demons that text message had stirred up.

Then I heard footsteps, and the door opened to reveal Kit looking smaller somehow than she had an hour ago.

She'd changed clothes again, back into the oversized sweater and leggings that seemed designed to hide her curves.

Her eyes were red-rimmed, though whether from tears or exhaustion I couldn't tell.

"Hey," she said, her voice carefully controlled. "Everything okay?"

"We brought you pancakes!" Charlie announced, holding up the container. "In case you forget to eat lunch."

Kit's careful composure cracked just a little, a genuine smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "That's very sweet of you both."

"Charlie was worried about you," I said, watching her face carefully. "So was I."

She looked between us, Charlie with her earnest concern, me with my barely leashed protective instincts, and something in her expression softened.

"I'm okay," she said quietly. "Just... dealing with some stuff from my old life."

Old life. Not "back home" or "from work." Old life, like she'd shed one skin and was trying to grow another.

"Want to talk about it?" I asked, keeping my voice gentle.

Kit hesitated, and for a moment I thought she might actually open up. Then her phone buzzed again, and that guarded look slammed back into place.

"Rain check?" she said, taking the container from Charlie. "But thank you. Both of you. This means more than you know."

As she closed the door between us, I caught a glimpse of her phone screen: multiple missed calls from the same number, the contact listed simply as "M."

Whatever Kit was running from had a name.

And looking at the fear that flickered across her face before she could hide it, I had the sinking feeling that name on her screen didn't belong here. But it was coming anyway.