All Chapters of (Not) My Husband: Still The Father Of Our Children: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

The basement smelled of mildew, old wood, and regret. Ezra’s boots scraped the concrete as he worked in silence, dragging a bucket and brush. His back ached. His hands were raw. But he didn’t stop.He’d hurt his Omega.Now he was going to atone.He scrubbed until the floor glistened, reinforced the beams, cleared the shelves. By evening, he was driving into town, sweat clinging to his neck as he marched into the hardware store.The cashier blinked at his order—chains, cuffs, padded restraints, ceiling anchor. “Big dog?”Ezra didn’t answer.At home, Sebastian stood at the top of the stairs, sweater slipping off one shoulder, damp curls clinging to his temple. He looked like he’d stepped out of the shower—and into a storm.Ezra dropped to his knees. “I cleaned it. It’s ready.”Sebastian descended slowly, lavender curling around him like smoke. “Show me.”Ezra led him down.The

The weight of the house pressed down on Ezra as he stood by the back door, staring into the darkened yard. The night air stung his skin, biting at the warmth that had already started to seep from his bones. He hadn’t brought a jacket—hadn’t even thought to. He just needed to get out. To breathe. But the air out here didn’t help. It was like trying to draw breath through a straw. His chest was too tight, his thoughts too loud. First the nudes, now a damn pregnancy test. Was he not doing enough? Was he failing her? Them? He didn’t hear the door open behind him. Didn’t move until the soft thud of it closing reached his ears. Then came the footfalls. Light. Familiar. Ezra’s shoulders tightened before Sebastian even spoke. “Ez?” His voice—gentle, worried—wrapped around Ezra like a hand on his back. Steady. Warm. Ezra swallowed hard, but the lump in his throat didn’t go away. He turned halfway, not

The house was quiet. The kind of quiet that only came after the chaos of children and chores.An afternoon siesta hush where the sun stretched lazy stripes across the bed and the soft creak of the mattress was the loudest thing in the room.Sebastian lay on his back, sunk into the pillows, his sleep shirt pushed up above his chest, exposing soft skin marred with Ezra’s kisses—some old and fading, some fresh and red. His shorts were barely clinging to his hips, twisted from the way Ezra had dragged them down to mid-thigh before crawling back up his body like a man starving.Ezra hovered over him now, hair mussed and jaw shadowed with stubble, his palms braced on either side of Sebastian’s ribs. He was shirtless, warm and golden in the afternoon light, his sweatpants slung low—so low that the V of his hips pointed directly to the heavy weight of him beneath the fabric.Sebastian’s breath hitched as Ezra dipped his head again, lip

The sun had barely crested the hills when Mia unlocked the front door of the house. The twins lingered behind her, quieter than usual, their steps soft and hesitant on the porch boards.Camden held her hand tightly, his little Alpha scent, warm lavender laced with the faintest thread of Ezra’s spice clinging to her skin like an echo. Caleb shuffled beside them, his own scent nearly identical but tinged more with nervousness, his favorite stuffed dino dragging by one arm.The house loomed before them, too still, too silent for a place that had once buzzed with laughter and lavender. Sebastian’s scent used to greet them at the door—that sweet, calming lavender that curled in the air like a hush but today, it was faint. Fading. Like a memory at the edges of her nose.Ezra had stayed behind at the hospital. He’d barely slept, refusing to leave Sebastian’s side. His scent—sandalwood and spice, usually grounding had gone sharp with

The sterile lights hummed above like the echo of a prayer that had long since lost its power. Ezra sat motionless in the chair by Sebastian’s bed, the same chair he’d claimed five nights ago and barely left since. His shoulders were hunched forward, back aching from the position, arms limp between his knees. He hadn’t changed clothes in over a day, and even when he did, it never felt like it mattered. Sebastian hadn’t opened his eyes. Nothing mattered until he did. Camden curled into Sebastian’s right side, his soft breaths barely audible. Caleb, his identical twin, mirrored him on the left, his small hand clutching the edge of Sebastian’s hospital gown. Ezra watched them with an aching sense of envy. The twins, with their unquestioning love—simple, loyal, unconditional. He had no idea how to give that to anyone. Mia lay curled on the cot by the wall, her head resting on a th