Chapter 114 They Feel the Storm Coming
Leela scooped Briar into one arm and Caspian into the other, relieving Ginny of her wiggling, grumpy burden. The sudden weight of two toddlers plus her own pregnancy made her knees buckle slightly, but she locked them, shifting her hips to balance the load.
"Oh, Fennigan!" she called out, her voice echoing down the long hallway toward the front door, where she could see the silhouettes of her mate and Jax still standing guard on the porch.
Fennigan turned his head sharply toward the screen door, his ears perking up at her tone.
"Yes, Lee?" he called back, stepping into the frame.
"Father duty!" she yelled, waddling slightly toward the kitchen table. "I'm starving, and I need baby wranglers before I eat the table legs!"
Fennigan laughed, a deep, rumbling sound that broke the tension of the afternoon. He pulled the door open and stepped inside, with Jax trailing behind him, grinning at the domestic chaos.
"I hear you, Sparky," Fennigan called back, striding into the kitchen.
He washed his hands quickly at the sink and turned to the pile of children.
"Come here, Stinky Pete," he said, reaching for Caspian.
Caspian went willingly enough at first, reaching out for his father’s broad shoulders. But as Fennigan reached for Briar to take the second twin, she recoiled.
"No!" Briar shrieked, burying her face in Leela’s neck and gripping her mother’s shirt with a fistful of fabric. She kicked her little legs out at Fennigan, refusing the transfer.
Fennigan paused, his hands hovering. "What's the matter, Princess?" he asked softly, looking concerned. Usually, Briar was a daddy's girl.
"She feels it," Leela whispered, rubbing Briar’s back. "She feels the stress in the house. She just wants Mom."
Briar let out a pitiful sniffle and laid her head down on Leela’s shoulder, clinging like a little limpet.
The moment Caspian saw that his sister was getting prime cuddle time with Mommy, the betrayal set in. He looked at Fennigan, then at Leela, and his lower lip began to tremble.
"Mama!" Caspian wailed, twisting in Fennigan’s arms and reaching back for Leela.
"Whoa, buddy, you're with me," Fennigan said, trying to bounce him. "Let Mom eat."
But Caspian wasn't having it. He stiffened his legs and arched his back—the classic toddler protest move—screaming for the safety of his mother’s arms.
Fennigan looked at Leela, defeated by two people under three feet tall.
Leela gave him a slight, tired smile, shifting Briar to make a little room on her other knee.
"Give him here," she said.
"Are you sure?" Fennigan asked, hesitating. "You need to eat."
"I'm sure," she said. "They need grounding just as much as we do."
Fennigan sighed and lowered the squirming Caspian onto Leela’s other leg. Immediately, the screaming stopped. Both twins snuggled into her, acting as if they hadn't just caused a scene, their little hands resting on her baby bump.
Fennigan leaned down and pressed a quick, firm peck to Leela’s lips, lingering for a moment to breathe in her scent.
"I'll feed you if you want," he offered quietly, his hand cupping her cheek. "Since your hands are full of monsters."
"That's okay," Leela chuckled, adjusting her grip on the twins. "Not my first rodeo. Just load me up."
She sat down at the head of the table. Fennigan grabbed her plate and piled it high with roast chicken, mashed potatoes, and the carrots she had been stealing earlier. He placed it right in front of her, cutting the meat into bite-sized pieces so she could manage one-handed.
It was a messy, beautiful affair.
Between bites of potato that she managed to fork into her own mouth, she was breaking off pieces of roll for Briar and letting Caspian steal carrots off her plate.
"Open," she’d say to herself, taking a bite. "Gentle," she’d say to Caspian, as he grabbed a green bean.
Slowly, the gnawing hunger in her stomach began to fade. And as the warm food settled, she felt that familiar, soft flutter deep inside—the little butterfly wings of the new baby. It wasn't a kick of protest this time; it was a gentle roll of contentment.
Leela let out a sigh, surrounded by her chaotic, demanding, terrified, and wonderful family. Her belly was full, the butterfly was satisfied, and for five minutes, the war could wait.
As for the babies, the roast chicken and mashed potatoes might as well have been cardboard. They picked at the food, pushing peas around the plate, but they didn't really eat. They just wanted to be held. They wanted the closeness that only their mother could provide in a house that felt like it was holding its breath.
Leela, knowing exactly what they needed, turned to Ginny as she stood up from the table.
"Gin, when you're done, could you grab a bottle and come into the family room?" Leela asked softly.
Ginny smiled, wiping her mouth with a napkin. "Of course, Leela. I'll be right there."
Fennigan helped Leela up, keeping a steadying hand on her back as she carried Briar, while he scooped up Caspian. They moved into the family room, which was already bathed in a warm, golden glow. Someone—probably Jax or Damon—had lit a fire in the stone fireplace, and the radio in the corner was playing soft, instrumental jazz, low enough not to disturb the peace.
Leela sank onto the plush, overstuffed sofa, letting out a long sigh as the cushions held her. She adjusted Briar in her arms, and without any fuss, the little girl latched on, her eyes fluttering shut almost instantly as the comfort of nursing washed over her.
Fennigan stood by the mantle for a moment, watching his mate. He shook his head slowly, a look of pure awe and disbelief on his face. She had just faced down the darkest history of their kind, prepared for a war, and now she was here, acting as the sole source of comfort for their children.
"You are incredible," he murmured, half to himself.
"They just need to feel safe, Fenn," she told him quietly, brushing a thumb over Briar’s soft cheek. "They can feel the storm coming. This... this is their anchor."
Fennigan lowered Caspian onto the couch beside her. The little boy didn't fuss or fight for his spot. He knew the drill.
He sat close, pressing his sturdy little body against Leela’s side. He reached out and slid his hand up the loose sleeve of her shirt, resting his warm palm against the skin of her arm—needing that physical connection. With his other hand, he stuck his fist in his mouth, his eyes wide and watching his sister, patiently waiting his turn.
Fennigan sat down on the coffee table in front of them, just watching his family in the firelight, wishing he could protect this moment in amber before the world outside tried to break in.