Chapter 305

Nathan gently placed Aurora back in her crib and gave both of the twins a kiss on their foreheads before turning back to face me.

“I should go,” he said, his voice tinged with a certain kind of sadness I couldn't quite place. I watched in horror for a few moments as he brushed past me and made his way toward the front door, but my wolf, Jade, howled softly in the back of my mind, urging me not to let him walk away.

“Nathan, please stay.” The words escaped my lips before I even had a chance to think.

He turned around, locking eyes with me. “I can’t, Olivia. Not tonight. I need to get back to the Council building.”

“The Council building?” I asked, cocking my head. “I thought you were staying at the cabin.”

Nathan paused, passing a hand over his face. In the dim light of the hallway, I could really see how weary his face looked, the lines around his mouth, the dark circles under his eyes.

“I am, technically,” he said. “But I only go there to sleep. And…” He paused, chuckling wryly. “I haven’t been sleeping much. The pack won’t run itself.”

I took a step toward him, opening my mouth to speak, to beg him to stay here tonight and get some much-needed rest. Even if he slept on the couch or in the guest room, I knew that it would make both of us feel a little better.

But just then, an unmistakable growl erupted from his stomach, filling the quiet space between us. I arched an eyebrow. “Have you been eating well?”

He looked sheepish, his eyes dropping to the floor. “I’ll admit that I’ve been too busy to cook. I’ve been eating takeout, mostly.”

I shook my head, my wolf’s irritation flaring. “Sit down in the kitchen. I’m making you something to eat.”

“Nah, it’s fine. You don’t have to—”

My eyes flickered, glowing momentarily as Jade’s annoyance seeped into my consciousness. “Nathan, get your butt in the kitchen and quit complaining.”

His eyes widened, clearly taken aback. Then, his expression shifted to one of mild amusement. “Alright, alright,” he said with a chuckle and took a seat at the kitchen table.

I went to the fridge and pulled out ingredients for a sandwich—some turkey, lettuce, and whole-grain bread. As I prepared it, I also set a kettle to boil for some tea.

Nathan watched me, his eyes trailing my movements but not saying much. The tension was still there, palpable, but it had shifted, lightened even if just a bit.

“Tea or coffee?” I asked, glancing over my shoulder.

“Erm… Tea is fine,” he replied softly.

I finished making the sandwich and set it in front of him, followed by a steaming cup of herbal tea. He took a bite, and for a moment, his eyes closed, as if savoring not just the food but the semblance of normalcy.

“Damn,” he murmured, his mouth full. “How do you do it?”

I furrowed my brow. “Do what?”

Nathan chuckled. “Even when it’s just a sandwich, somehow you make the best food.”

Nathan’s words made me blush, and I looked away, shaking my head. “You’re just starving. I’ll make you another if you’re still hungry.”

There was a slight silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. For just a moment, things felt normal again. Like we were just a little family with no problems, enjoying our solitude. Wanting to feel even more normal, I decided to strike up a conversation.

“You know, I walked around town with Layla today,” I said, breaking the silence. “We had coffee. She’s actually quite lonely; she told me she’s never had any female friends.”

Nathan scratched his head, contemplating this new information. “Yeah, I remember that being an issue when we were together. She was always a bit of a lone wolf in that regard. I think it always bothered her.”

“I told her she could come over if the child turns out to be yours—or even if it doesn’t,” I continued, watching his reaction closely. “I thought it would be good for her to have some sort of support system here. She’s going to need it.”

Nathan paused, his sandwich halfway to his mouth. Then slowly, he set it down and looked up at me. A soft smile spread across his face, transforming it in a way I hadn’t seen in what felt like ages.

“That’s really sweet of you, Olivia,” he said, his voice so sincere it almost broke my heart. “You didn’t have to be so open to my ex. But you were.”

For a moment, we just looked at each other, a thousand unsaid things hovering in the air around us.

Just as Nathan took another bite of his sandwich, the sound of the twins’ fussing reverberated through the baby monitor. I sighed, setting down my tea cup and rubbing my temples.

“They’ve been like this a lot lately,” I confessed, the weariness in my voice unmistakable. “Angela’s been swamped with shifts at the hospital, and Clint’s still recovering, although he’d never admit it. I’ve been struggling to handle it all on my own.”

Nathan looked up from his plate, his eyes meeting mine. “I’ll stay tonight. I’ll help you out with the twins. But I want to stay in the guest room.”

“Fine,” I agreed, a mix of relief and disappointment settling in. “That works.”

We moved to the nursery, each picking up a twin. Nathan held Elliot while I comforted Aurora, who had been particularly cranky for the past few days.

“If Layla’s child turns out to be mine, I want to be a part of their life,” Nathan said suddenly, his voice tinged with determination.

“That’s really sweet of you, Nathan,” I said, looking over at him. “And I’ll support you through it.”

He seemed a bit taken aback. “Really? I half expected you to get jealous.”

“I won’t lie, the thought did cross my mind at first,” I admitted. “But after meeting Layla and thinking about it, no child should be without a father. And she shouldn’t have to go it alone, either.”

Nathan’s expression turned stern. “She won’t be going it alone, not if I have anything to say about it. Her fiancé had better step up or he and I will have a man-to-man talk. Nobody’s leaving her high and dry with a child.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle a little. “You’re kind of cute when you get all stern and protective.”

He glanced at me, his eyes softening for just a moment, but then he refocused on Elliot, who had finally stopped crying and drifted back to sleep. We laid the twins back in their cribs and stood there for a moment, looking at our children.

“Goodnight, Olivia,” Nathan finally said, breaking the silence.

“Goodnight, Nathan,” I replied, watching as he turned and headed for the guest room.

He closed the door behind him, and I heard the soft click of the lock. A sense of loneliness washed over me, even though he was just a few feet away.

My wolf seemed to mirror my sentiments, letting out a soft, almost inaudible whine in the back of my mind. We both knew that while Nathan’s physical presence was a comfort, the emotional distance between us was still a yawning chasm. But hopefully, after tonight, that chasm would begin to close.

I turned away, heading for my own bedroom. As I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, my mind kept drifting back to Nathan, to the look in his eyes when he had said he would stay, to the stern set of his jaw when he had talked about responsibility and fatherhood.

Despite the space between us, physical and emotional, for the first time in weeks, I felt a glimmer of hope.