Family Secret

Chapter 34

Alexia led Nate into the bathroom, flicking on the soft yellow light that hummed faintly above the mirror. She guided him with a steady but gentle grip on his arm, making him sit down carefully on the edge of the tub. Nate complied, his jaw tight, though his eyes softened when he looked at her—like he hadn’t expected her insistence.

Without a word, Alexia turned to the medicine cabinet, pulling out a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, a roll of cotton balls, and a small box of bandages. Her movements were purposeful but calm, the kind of efficiency born from instinct rather than training. She crouched down between Nate’s legs on the tile floor, her knees brushing lightly against his boots.

The motion caught Nate off guard. His breath hitched, not because of pain, but because of how bold it felt—her right there, close, her eyes level with his chest, her hair falling loose from the bun in a few golden strands that framed her face. He swallowed, forcing himself to stay still.

Alexia gave no outward sign of noticing his reaction. Instead, she reached for the buttons of his tweed vest. “Hold still,” she murmured, fingers working quickly, though her touch was careful. She slipped the vest off his shoulders, then moved to his shirt. Her hands worked the buttons one by one until she gently tugged the fabric down his left arm, sliding it off so she could see the wound.

The sight of him in the plain white tank beneath made her pause. Nate’s arm—broad, cut with muscle—looked nothing like the quiet, bookish man who often sat with his spectacles and old-fashioned waistcoats. Up close, he was solid. Stronger than she’d given him credit for.

She blinked once, shaking herself, and refocused. Grabbing a cotton ball, she soaked it with peroxide, the faint fizzing sound filling the silence. Then, carefully, she pressed it against the shallow cut on his shoulder.

Nate winced despite himself, his hand twitching slightly on his knee.

Alexia smirked, her lips curving in amusement. “Big, strong doctor, and yet a little cotton ball makes you flinch.”

Before he could answer, she leaned in closer. And then she did something Nate absolutely didn’t expect—she brought her lips together and blew gently on the wound. The cool air brushed across his skin, easing the sting.

But the way her full lips puckered—so close, so deliberate—sent a sharp spike of heat through him. His pulse quickened before he could control it, heart thudding against his ribs like he’d just sprinted across town.

Alexia leaned back a little, eyes flicking up to meet his. “Luckily,” she said softly, her voice more casual than the look in her eyes, “it’s not deep enough for stitches. Just a bandage.”

She reached for the box, pulling out two cartoon-themed ones. Holding them up, she raised a brow. “So,” she teased, “Agent Wolf… or Agent Fox?”

The corner of Nate’s mouth tugged upward despite himself. “Agent Wolf.”

Her smirk widened knowingly as she peeled the back off the bandage. She leaned in again, smoothing it over the cut. Her hand lingered longer than necessary, fingertips brushing the firm lines of his bicep, tracing ever so slightly. For a moment, she let herself feel the strength beneath the skin.

Then realization struck. She pulled her hand back quickly, clearing her throat, suddenly more aware of the heat building in the small room. “There. Good as new,” she murmured.

For a few seconds, neither moved. They just stared. The silence wasn’t empty—it was heavy, charged, each of them caught in an unspoken thought neither dared say aloud.

Finally, Alexia stood, tucking the supplies back into the cabinet. Nate adjusted his shirt, buttoning it slowly, deliberately, as if dragging out the moment.

They left the bathroom side by side, walking down the quiet hall. When they reached their doors, they hesitated again, eyes catching in that fragile space where something could’ve been said. But nothing was.

“Goodnight, Alexia,” Nate said at last, his voice low.

“Goodnight, Nate,” she replied softly, watching him retreat into his room.

She lingered a moment longer outside her own, pressing her back to the wall, exhaling the breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. Then she slipped into her room, heart still beating a little too fast, wondering why helping him had felt like so much more.

The next couple of days slid into something resembling routine, almost deceptively normal.

Every morning began the same way—chaos with the twins. Nate and Alexia had fallen into an unspoken rhythm of tag-teaming the ordeal of getting them ready for school. Ryan never wanted to wear matching socks, Kyan insisted her hair should be braided like a warrior’s, and both were always slow at breakfast. Nate’s stern tone and Alexia’s quick wit made for an efficient combination, though more often than not, laughter managed to seep into the morning rush.

Neighbors who peeked out their windows often caught sight of Nate walking Alexia and the twins to the edge of the street. And when the moment came to part ways, Nate always leaned in—not for a full kiss like other husbands might—but for a gentle peck on her temple. Soft. Familiar. Almost natural.

Each time his lips brushed Alexia's temple, her breath caught, a flicker of warmth blooming in her chest that she pushed down as quickly as it came.

Once the twins were off, Alexia turned her focus toward her own work. She had settled into her new role as receptionist at The Order’s Headquarters—a promotion that had been a surprise, but one she accepted with a raised brow and a smirk. The job gave her access, eyes and ears on the front desk of the organization she was raised to both fear and despise. Still, she played the part flawlessly—sweet voice, sharp memory, efficient and approachable.

Friday nights became something else entirely. Originally, the “dates” were just another detail in their cover story, but somewhere along the line, Nate and Alexia began to look forward to them. Dinner at a quiet restaurant, sometimes a walk through the city, sometimes just sitting in the corner booth of a little diner that always smelled like coffee and pie. At first, it had been duty. Now, it felt like a pause—an evening carved out just for them, away from work, away from the children’s endless energy, away from watchful eyes. Neither admitted it, but the time had become something both needed more than they cared to confess.

Meanwhile, the twins were navigating school with mixed success. Ryan kept his head down, focusing on tests and trying not to get caught up in trouble. Kyan, on the other hand, had a harder time letting Chadwick’s taunts roll off her back. More than once, Ryan had to physically hold her back before she launched across the classroom. Together, though, they managed—they always did.

As for Nate, as soon as the coast was clear and his “family man” role complete, he shifted into his real one. The psychiatric hospital stood on the quieter side of the city, a large stone building with iron gates and barred windows, its reputation cemented in whispers. It was the perfect cover. Patients wandered the grounds, nurses carried clipboards, and no one looked twice at the man in the tweed vest walking through the front doors.

Nate pushed past the reception desk, briefcase in hand, and headed toward the back. The deeper he went, the less the place resembled a hospital and the more it revealed its true purpose. Behind heavy doors and coded locks, the halls opened into the hidden operational wing.

Kevin and Rose stood over a spread of documents, eyes sharp, flipping through files with an intensity that told Nate they were no closer to answers than before. The low hum of fluorescent lights overhead added to the weight in the room.

Nate set his briefcase down on the table, the leather snapping shut as he clicked it open. He looked from Kevin to Rose, his jaw tight. “Anything yet? Did we find the leak about the mission?” His tone left no room for pleasantries.

Both agents shook their heads almost in unison. “Nothing,” Kevin said, frustration evident in his clipped voice. “We’ve gone through every report, every communication line. Whoever slipped the Resistance our movements… covered their tracks well.”

Rose frowned, tapping a file with her nail. “It had to have come from inside, though. No one outside had access to the full scope. That means we’re looking at someone in our ranks, someone close.”

Nate leaned his palms on the table, eyes narrowing at the papers like he could burn through the secrets himself. “Then we don’t stop until we find them. Someone betrayed us. And until we root them out…” His voice dropped, heavy and certain. “…none of us are safe.”

The room went quiet, the weight of his words settling over them like a storm cloud.