Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Her son. The boy who'd pushed her into the mud and declared he wished she would disappear.

What kind of poison had been poured into that child's ear to make him turn on his own mother like that? And what kind of man stood by and let it happen?

I'd only gotten a brief look at Stiles before I'd punched him, but it had been enough. He had a self-satisfied smirk, expensive watch, the air of a man who'd never been told no in his life and counted money while shitting in a golden toilet.. Yeah that was his type. 

The kind of person who viewed people as possessions to be acquired, used, and discarded when they no longer served a purpose.

He'd treated Winter like trash. Had probably been doing it for years while she bent over backward trying to be the perfect wife and mother, never realizing she could never be enough for someone who didn't value her in the first place.

Well, screw that. And screw him.

Winter was ours now. Mine and the twins'. We'd claimed her, and I'd be damned if I let anyone hurt her again.

Even if I had no idea what I was actually doing.

.

Even if the woman sleeping in my bed didn't actually know who I was, what I was supposed to become, or that this entire situation was part of my mother's Machiavellian plan to force me into domestic responsibility.

I'd figure it out. Somehow. I had to.

Because when the twins had looked at Winter with such pure, uncomplicated joy—like they'd finally found the missing piece they'd been searching for—I'd felt it too. That sense of rightness. Of completion.

Like maybe Mom's crazy ultimatum had led me exactly where I needed to be.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand, the vibration loud in the quiet room. I grabbed it quickly, not wanting to wake Winter.

Peter: Board meeting moved up to Monday. They want to "discuss concerns" about the transition. Translation: they're going to try to block your appointment.**

Fantastic. Because my life wasn't complicated enough.

Me: Let them try. I'll be there.

Peter: With or without the wife you're supposedly finding?

I glanced at Winter, sleeping peacefully in my bed, completely unaware that she'd stumbled into the middle of a corporate power play.

Me: Still working on that.

Peter: Derek. You have three weeks left. Your mother isn't bluffing.

Me: I know.

I set the phone aside and scrubbed my hands over my face. Three weeks to convince Winter to stay. Three weeks to convince the board I was ready to lead. Three weeks to prove to Mom that I could actually be a proper father to my sons.

No pressure.

Winter made another sound in her sleep, and this time her hand reached out, fingers curling around the edge of my shirt like she was afraid I might disappear.

Something in my chest tightened at the gesture. This woman who'd been abandoned by everyone who should have protected her, even in sleep, was trying to hold onto something solid.

I carefully took her hand in mine, her fingers small and cold against my palm. She settled immediately, her breathing deepening back into real sleep.

"I've got you," I whispered, knowing she couldn't hear me. "I don't know what I'm doing, but I've got you. I promise."

It was a reckless promise. An impossible one, given everything I didn't know about her, everything she didn't know about me, everything that could go wrong with this insane plan.

But sitting there in the dark, holding the hand of a woman who'd somehow become essential to my life in the space of a single day, I meant every word.

I must have finally drifted off sometime before dawn, because the next thing I knew, two small bodies were launching themselves onto the bed with the force of guided missiles.

"Wake up! Wake up! We're late!"

I jolted awake, disoriented and confused. Jamal was bouncing on my legs while Andre was tugging at Winter's arm with increasing urgency.

"Late for what?" I mumbled, trying to get my brain to function.

"SCHOOL!" they shouted in unison, and my eyes shot to the clock on the nightstand.

8:47 AM.

School started at 8:30.

"Shit," I said, then remembered small ears. "I mean, shoot. Okay, everyone up. Now. Move, move, move!"

The apartment exploded into chaos. Winter stumbled out of bed, looking adorably confused in my oversized shirt, her hair a disaster. The twins were already arguing about who got to brush their teeth first. And I was frantically trying to remember where I'd put their school uniforms, because of course I hadn't done laundry.

"Derek!" Winter's voice cut through the chaos. "Where are their uniforms?"

"Um." I looked around helplessly. "Laundry basket? Maybe?"

She stared at me. "Please tell me you at least have clean uniforms."

"Define clean."

"Oh my God." But she was already moving, taking charge with the same calm efficiency she'd shown in the kitchen yesterday. 

"Boys, bathroom, teeth, now. Derek, find whatever uniforms are least dirty. I'll make them breakfast to go."

"We don't have time for—"

"They need to eat," she said firmly. "I'll be fast."

She was fast. Terrifyingly fast. In the time it took me to locate two wrinkled but wearable uniforms, she'd made peanut butter sandwiches, bagged some fruit, and had juice boxes ready to go.

The twins emerged from the bathroom looking slightly more presentable, and Winter herded them into their uniforms with practiced efficiency.

"Shoes!"

"Backpacks!"

"Do you have homework?"

"Lunch money?"

I watched in awe as she transformed chaos into order in less than fifteen minutes. This was what I'd been missing. Not just someone to cook and clean—anyone could do that. But someone who actually knew how to manage a family, who could take control of a situation without making everyone feel like they were being controlled.

"Car keys?" Winter looked at me expectantly, and my stomach dropped.

"About that," I said slowly. "We don't actually have a car right now."

"What do you mean you don't have a car?"

"It's complicated. Family issues. We've been taking the bus."

Winter looked at the clock, then at the twins, then at me. "The bus that would have left ten minutes ago?"

"Probably."

"Right." She took a deep breath, and I could see her making calculations. "How far is the school?"

"About two miles."

"We're running."

"We're what?"