THALIA
The kitchen smelled faintly of coffee and our breakfast earlier, and all I could hear was faint typing from the living room and paper being moved around to my side.
Reagan sat across from me at the kitchen table. His legs were swinging restlessly beneath the chair and even knocking against the wood as he tried to focus on the task. A sheet of paper lay between us, already filled with scribbles, crossed-out numbers, and a little tear at the side when he pulled too much accidentally.
I could practically see his patience thinning by the second. He just turned four. For a regular human child, this might have been too advanced, but for a werewolf pup, especially one who had been subjected to Bella’s tutoring, this was well within his capacity.
Unfortunately, capacity didn’t mean int
