Chapter 178: A Happy Life Is All I Want

Soren

The house was finally quiet, and I stood in the doorway of the nursery watching Hope sleep, her arms flung over her head and her mouth slightly open. She looked like a little starfish, all outstretched limbs and soft curves, and I could have stood there for hours just listening to the soft sounds she made in her sleep. Felix stepped up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist, resting his chin on my shoulder, and we stood together in the dark watching our daughter breathe.

“She gets that from you,” Felix whispered, nodding toward Hope’s messy hair sticking out in every direction.

“She gets everything from me. I did all the work.”

“You did most of the work. I provided moral support.”

“You brought snacks. That was important.”

He laughed quietly, and the sound vibrated through his chest into my back, and I leaned into him because I never wanted to forget what it felt like to be held by someone who loved me completely.

We went into the living room and left the nursery door open so we could hear Hope if she woke. The fire was still burning in the fireplace, and the couch was covered in blankets Jazz had knitted for us in colors that didn’t match and somehow still looked perfect. Felix sat down first, and I curled up beside him, legs tucked under me and my head on his chest.

“Do you remember when we moved here?” I asked.

“Which time? The apartment or the Alpha house?”

“The Alpha house. The day we brought Hope home from the hospital. You were so scared to carry her up the stairs.”

“I wasn’t scared.”

“You were terrified. I saw your hands shaking.”

Felix was quiet for a moment, and I felt his chest rise and fall under my cheek.

“I was terrified. Of dropping her. Of not being good enough. Of messing everything up the way my father did with me.”

“But you didn’t drop her.”

“No. But that first week, every time she cried I was sure I was doing something wrong.”

I lifted my head and looked at him, the firelight casting shadows across his cheeks.

“You’re a good father, Felix. The best father I’ve ever known.”

“You haven’t known many fathers.”

“Enough.”

He kissed me then—soft and slow—and I let myself fall into the feeling of being loved.

\---

The fire crackled, the wind blew against the window outside, and the clock on the mantel ticked toward midnight. Felix and I talked about everything and nothing—about Hope’s first smile and the way she laughed when he made silly faces, and what color her eyes might be when she got older.

“She has your eyes,” Felix said. “Same shape, same color. She’s going to cause trouble.”

“She’s going to be amazing.”

“That too.”

I thought about all the moments I had missed in my own childhood—the lullabies my mother never sang, the bedtime stories my father never told. Hope would have all of that and more, because Felix and I had survived something terrible and we weren’t going to waste the second chance we’d been given.

“Felix,” I said. “Do you ever think about what would have happened if we’d never found each other? If the bond had never formed?”

“I try not to.”

“Me neither. But sometimes, when I’m holding Hope in the middle of the night and the world is quiet and I can’t sleep, I think about how different everything could have been.”

“And what do you conclude?”

I looked into the fire, at the flames dancing and the sparks rising up the chimney.

“I conclude that I’m glad it all happened the way it did. The hard parts, the scary parts, the moments I thought I was going to lose you. I’m glad for all of it, because it brought me here.”

Felix pulled me closer and pressed his lips to my forehead.

“Me too.”

\---

The baby monitor crackled, and we both froze, waiting for Hope to wake. But the sound was only static, and she was still asleep, and we exhaled together.

“We should sleep,” I said. “She’s going to wake up in a few hours, and one of us has to function.”

“One of us always functions. The other just drinks coffee and pretends.”

“I’m the one with the coffee.”

“I know.”

I stood up and pulled Felix to his feet, and we walked hand in hand into the bedroom. The room was cold, and the sheets were cold, and we curled under the thick blanket and held on to each other.

“Good night, Soren.”

“Good night, Felix.”

I closed my eyes and felt the warmth of his body against mine, and I listened as his breathing slowed as he drifted into sleep.

\---

I dreamed of the garden again—the one from the ceremony—but this time the roses were in full bloom and the vegetables were ready for harvest and Hope was running between the rows, her hand in Felix’s. They were laughing at something I couldn’t hear, and the sun was warm on my face, and I felt a happiness so complete it made my chest tight.

When I woke, morning light was filtering through the curtains, and Hope was crying in her crib. Felix was still asleep, and I slipped out of bed and went into the nursery, lifting my daughter into my arms and pressing her against my chest.

“Good morning, my sweet girl.” I kissed her forehead and breathed in the sweet scent of her hair. “Your father is still sleeping, so it’s just us two for a while.”

Hope gurgled and reached for my shirt, and I carried her to the rocking chair by the window and sat down to feed her. The sun was rising over the trees, the birds were singing, and the world outside was peaceful in a way that felt almost unreal.

Felix found us there an hour later, Hope asleep on my chest and my head resting against the back of the chair.

“You should have woken me,” he said, kneeling beside us.

“You needed the sleep.”

“So did you.”

“I sleep when she sleeps.”

Felix smiled and brushed a strand of hair from my face.

“Everyone says that. And then they never sleep again.”

“It’s worth it.”

He looked at Hope—the little face pressed against my heart, the tiny fingers curled around the collar of my shirt.

“Yes,” he said. “It is.”

\---

We spent the morning in the nursery, just the three of us, with no plans and nowhere to be. Felix read aloud from a book Hope was still far too young to understand, and I watched her face as she listened to the sound of his voice, and I felt something that might have been peace.

Not the kind of peace that comes from a victory, but the kind that comes from acceptance. From letting go of the fear and the anger and the need to control everything. From trusting that whatever came next, we would get through it together.

Hope fell asleep again, and Felix set the book aside and looked at me.

“What are you thinking about?”

“I’m thinking about how lucky we are.”

“Lucky?”

“That we have each other. That we have her. That we survived everything that tried to tear us apart.”

Felix reached across Hope for my hand.

“We’re not lucky. We’re stubborn. That’s different.”

I laughed, and Hope stirred in her sleep but didn’t wake.

“Stubborn,” I said. “I like that better.”