Chapter Seventeen – New begining
1488 Words
Bri
I have been lying in my bed for the last half an hour, my cheeks hurt because of the smile that stretches my face,
God that man can kiss.
Touching my lips, as a chuckle escapes me, I feel like a teenager with her first crush.
The sound of running feet and childish giggles filled the hallway an instant before my bedroom door flew open like a scene from an action movie.
Three little monsters launched themselves onto my bed in a tangle of elbows, knees, and delighted shrieks.
Sky landed on my stomach with a triumphant, “MAMA! WAKE UP!”
Zack flopped down beside her, groaning dramatically.
“She’s awake, Sky. You literally jumped on her.”
Alex tried to crawl onto the bed more gently, but Sky grabbed his arm.
“No gentle! It’s a pounce day!”
I laughed despite myself, brushing hair out of my face as the mattress bounced beneath them.
“Good morning to you too,” I said, pretending to sound stern even though my heart was full.
Sky wriggled closer, grinning inches from my nose.
“Sebby said we could wake you!”
“Oh did he now?” I raised an eyebrow, though the warmth spreading through my chest made it impossible to pretend annoyance.
Zack nodded.
“He said you needed cheering up. And Sky took that very seriously.”
Sky puffed her chest proudly.
“I is the best cheerer‑upper!”
I pulled all three of them into a haphazard hug, blankets going everywhere.
“You really are.”
Sebastian
A rumble of laughter drifted down the hall just as I finished pouring myself a cup of coffee. I wasn’t sure if it was Bri laughing or the kids, but either way it made something warm settle in my chest.
Sky’s voice echoed next.
“Mama! You awake now! We did it!”
I couldn’t help smiling.
I walked toward the open bedroom door and leaned against the frame just in time to see three small bodies wrestling with Bri’s blankets while she laughed helplessly beneath them.
“Well,” I said, lifting my cup in greeting, “looks like the morning chaos has begun.”
Three little heads snapped toward me.
“Sebby!”
“Dad!”
“Help! Sky’s too strong!”
Zack pointed dramatically at Sky.
“She ambushed us.”
Sky gasped, mortally offended.
“I did not bush you! I pounced you nicely!”
I stepped into the room, setting my coffee on the dresser before the mattress could shake it off.
“Is that so?” I said, raising an eyebrow at her. “A nice pounce?”
Sky nodded with the seriousness of a judge.
“Yes. Mama needed wakin’.”
Bri, now mostly upright and trying to tuck hair behind her ears, shot me a look equal parts amused and exasperated.
“I swear they set an alarm for this.”
I crossed to the bed and offered Bri a hand.
“You okay under there?”
Her fingers slipped into mine with a little more gratitude than the situation required.
“Barely,” she said, laughing. “Save me.”
Alex scooted to the side to make space. “You can sit, daddy.”
He said it so politely I had to smile.
“Well, if there’s room…”
The kids immediately shuffled around, forming a semicircle like they were preparing for a council meeting.
Sky climbed into my lap without waiting for permission.
“We is all awake now,” she announced. “So we can do mornin’ stuffs.”
“Mornin’ stuffs?” I asked.
Zack nodded.
“Breakfast. Cartoons. And Sky has to show us the chickens.”
Bri groaned softly.
“Oh no, not the chickens.”
Sky perked up.
“Yes the chickens! Dey love me!”
“Sky,” Bri reminded gently, “they run away from you.”
Sky shrugged.
“Dey run because dey excited.”
I snorted. Bri covered her face.
The room was a mess of blankets, bed‑hair, and laughter. The kind of chaos that didn’t feel overwhelming — just alive. Warm. Something I didn’t realize I’d missed until right now.
“Come on,” Bri said, nudging my arm. “Let me at least get out of bed before they recruit you into the morning rituals.”
I offered her another hand up, and she took it again this time pulling her from beneath the pile of blankets and children.
The kids tumbled off the bed in a burst of energy, already arguing about which cartoon to start with.
Bri looked at them, then at me, and shook her head with a smile that made my chest tighten.
“Welcome to our mornings,” she said softly.
“Honestly?” I replied, watching Sky chase Zack down the hall, “I think I could get used to it.” I pulled her towards me as the kids ran from the room, and cupped her cheeks.
“Good morning baby, did you sleep well?” Her eyes darkened and I couldn’t resist leaning in and touching my lips to hers, her moan was the only encouragement I needed.
I deepened the kiss as her arms wrapped around my neck, god she tastes so good, I could kiss her forever.
Scream of laughter pulled us apart, both of us breathless, she smiled at me shyly, “good morning Bast. I guess we should go and save the kitchen from the three terrors.”
I met her eyes and gave a sheepish grin.
“Just to confirm — two of those wild creatures are mine.”
Bri laughed, pressing a hand to her chest like she needed a second to catch her breath.
“Oh, I know. Sky couldn’t possibly create that much noise alone.”
“Hey,” I said lightly, “Alex is the quiet one. He just got sucked into the whirlwind.”
She shot me a look full of amusement.
“Mmm-hmm. And Zack?”
I raised a brow.
“Zack is… Zack.”
Bri snorted. “A polite way of saying ‘agent of chaos’?”
“Exactly.”
She pulled away completely and rushed from the room, making me smirk as I followed. I could definitely get used to waking up like this.
By the time I got downstairs, Bri already had a pan heating on the stove and was whisking batter in a bowl with the kind of focus usually reserved for solving world peace.
I went to the fridge, grabbed a pack of bacon, and held it up.
She nodded toward a cupboard with the whisk while flipping a wayward strand of hair out of her eyes.
We moved around each other like we’d been doing this forever—passing, swapping spots, sliding utensils into each other's hands without a word. It was easy. Too easy. Like muscle memory I didn’t actually have.
It hit me, then.
This feeling.
Like I was finally home.
“So what are your plans for the day, baby?” I asked, nudging her shoulder gently as I set the bacon in the pan. “I know us showing up probably knocked you off‑kilter.”
She grinned, bright and soft all at once.
“You being here has made my week, Bast.”
My chest did something inconvenient at that.
“And my plans,” she continued, whisk tapping the edge of the bowl, “are to ring about the bakery. I’ve decided to make an offer.”
I froze—not dramatically, just enough that she noticed.
“Really?” I asked, trying not to sound like her biggest cheerleader even though I absolutely was. “You’re sure?”
Her eyes flicked up to mine, determination settling there.
“Yeah. I’m tired of just surviving. I want to build something. Something that’s mine.”
She shrugged, a small, hopeful gesture. “I think I’m ready.”
I reached over, brushing my fingers lightly across her wrist as the bacon sizzled.
“I think you’re more than ready.”
Her smile softened.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” I said quietly. “And whatever you need—from advice to paperwork to taste‑testing pastries—I’m here.”
She laughed, that warm little sound that hit me straight in the ribs.
“Well,” she said, nudging my hip with hers, “you can start by not burning that bacon.”
I glanced down at the pan—smoke just starting to curl.
“Right. Yep. On it.”
She shook her head, amused, and poured the first perfect pancake into the pan beside me.
And as we cooked side by side in her little kitchen, listening to the kids arguing happily in the next room, it struck me again:
Yeah.
This felt a lot like home.
- Writer
