“Yeah,” I whisper, kissing the top of his head. “That’s reason enough, baby.”
Poppy watches us, her expression soft but with a fierce protectiveness beneath it. “We’re going to be okay, aren’t we?” she asks quietly.
I look down at Jaxon, his small hands clutching the blanket as he fights sleep. Then I meet Poppy’s eyes.
“Yeah,” I say firmly. “We are.”
**Paige’s Perspective**
Soft morning sunlight filtered through the kitchen window, casting a warm, golden hue over the room. The comforting scent of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, wrapping around us like a familiar embrace. Poppy sat quietly at the counter, clutching a second cup of coffee as if it were her anchor. Jaxon was nestled close against me, now fully awake, quietly humming to himself while absentmindedly tugging at the edge of his blanket.
My gaze drifted downward to the blanket resting gently across his lap. It was thick and inviting, knitted in a patchwork of uneven stitches that spoke of care rather than perfection. I let my fingers brush over the soft wool, noting the faded blue threads woven with delicate silver strands that shimmered faintly in the light.
“Where did you get this, baby?” I asked softly, curiosity lacing my voice.
Jaxon looked up at me with those wide, innocent eyes. “My Nanna made it,” he said simply.
Poppy’s head snapped up instantly, concern flickering across her face. Our eyes met, silently sharing the question that lingered between us.
I shrugged, just as puzzled. “Your Nanna?” I echoed gently. “Which one?”
Jaxon furrowed his brow, as if digging through a distant memory. “The one from my dreams,” he said after a moment.
Poppy’s breath caught slightly, but I kept my tone steady. “Oh? And where did you get the blanket from?”
He glanced down at it again. “Daddy gave it to me.”
Those words stirred a strange flutter in my chest-part surprise, part something I couldn’t quite name. I exchanged a quick, meaningful look with Poppy; her worry mirrored my own. Forcing a smile, I brushed a stray curl from Jaxon’s forehead. “That’s really kind of him,” I murmured. “It’s beautiful.”
Jaxon nodded, folding the blanket loosely against his chest.
I decided not to press him any further. Whatever this meant, I would talk to Rye about it later.
Poppy stayed quiet, but I could tell her mind was racing. She always noticed everything, never missing a single detail.
Suddenly, Leo appeared in the doorway, his broad silhouette filling the frame effortlessly. His dark eyes found Poppy first, and a faint smile tugged at his lips, making my heart twist with a quiet, amused warmth.
“Hey,” he said softly. “Are you ready?”
Poppy blinked, caught off guard for a moment. “For what?”
“Jake called. He needs help sorting through a delivery at the clinic. Apparently, half the supplies were mislabeled again. Thought you might want to come and lend him your brain.”
Her cheeks flushed a gentle pink, and she quickly set her cup down. “Oh. Right, yes. I can do that.”
Leo’s smile broadened, though a hint of shyness lingered in his eyes. “I’ll walk with you.”
I raised an eyebrow, seizing the chance for a little teasing. “Is that what they’re calling it now?”
Poppy narrowed her eyes at me but couldn’t hide the blush spreading across her cheeks. “It’s work, Paige.”
“Sure it is,” I teased back.
She swatted playfully at me as she grabbed her jacket, the laughter in her eyes unmistakable-the same spark she’d carried since we were kids. The spark that said she was genuinely happy.
Leo waited patiently by the door as she pulled on her boots.
“You’ll call if you need me?” she asked before stepping outside.
“Always,” I promised.
Once they left, the house felt larger, though not empty-just quiet again. Jaxon looked up at me from his spot on the counter. “Can we make pancakes now?”
“Pancakes it is,” I said, ruffling his tousled hair. “Grab the bowl.”
He scrambled down eagerly, dragging a chair across the kitchen floor to reach the cupboard.
I couldn’t help but smile at his determination. He was getting taller every day, braver too, and moments like this felt like precious gifts.
“Flour, eggs, milk,” I recited, lining the ingredients up neatly.
He nodded seriously, as if committing a secret recipe to memory. “And sugar, and chocolate chips.”
I laughed softly. “Okay, but you have to have some fruit too.”
“Strawberries and banana,” he grinned.
Together, we measured and mixed the ingredients. He chattered the entire time-about a dream he’d had, how he thought Uncle Callen would make an excellent firefighter because he was “already loud and strong,” and how Poppy spoke differently when Leo was around.
By the time the first pancake hit the pan, sunlight poured through the window in thick, golden beams, warming my skin. I hummed quietly as I ladled the next batch of batter, lost in the comforting rhythm-the sizzle, the smell, Jaxon’s cheerful humming beside me.
Then, something shifted.
The air around me changed subtly at first-a faint vibration beneath my skin, the same pulse I’d felt by the creek. My hand froze mid-motion, the ladle dripping batter onto the counter. Jaxon didn’t notice; he was too busy lining up plates like a tiny chef.
“Okay, baby, be careful with the-” The words caught in my throat.
A soft glow blossomed beneath my skin, pale gold at first, then deepening to silver at the edges-the same shimmering gold-silver light that had danced through the creek’s waters.
“Not again,” I whispered under my breath.
“Mum?” Jaxon looked up, eyes wide with wonder. “You’re shiny.”
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