Second Chances: Forever - Part Fifty-Seven
Pairings: Beau Arlen x Y/N Female reader
Series Summary: A chance meeting in the grocery store brought a whirlwind of change to Beau Arlen’s life—change he had no issues with whatsoever. A second chance at life, love, family—a second chance at forever.
Word Count: 4,486
Tags/Warnings: Discussion of 18+ issues, parenthood
A/N: Comments, Likes, Reblogs, Kind feedback are always highly appreciated. Please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!
Any and all mistakes are mine.
Note: I'm back! I'm back! Thank you all for your immense patience for my absence. But life seems to have calmed down so I'm hoping to return to writing all the stories again!
Dividers: by @sweetmelodygraphics
Chapter Fifty-Seven: She's Growing Up
The weeks that followed settled into a comfortable rhythm.
Not because Y/N had found her answer.
Because she had stopped demanding one from herself.
The college catalog remained on the coffee table, migrating occasionally to the kitchen table, the bedroom, or whichever room she happened to be occupying while the children played nearby. She found herself opening it in odd moments—during Ella's naps, while waiting for pasta water to boil, after the house had gone quiet for the evening. Some days she lingered over education programs. Other days communications caught her eye. There were moments when social work seemed appealing, and others when entirely different paths tugged at her imagination.
The frustrating thing was that none of the possibilities felt wrong.
They all felt appealing for different reasons.
And so she continued to think.
To wonder.
To imagine.
Meanwhile, life refused to pause for self-discovery.
Eliza remained a one-child creative industry.
Every day seemed to bring a new chapter in the increasingly complicated saga of wolves and ducks. One afternoon, Y/N overheard an impassioned explanation involving duck ambassadors, wolf council elections, and a disputed pond border. Another day, Eliza spent nearly an hour constructing an elaborate village from blocks and couch cushions, assigning each structure a specific purpose in the ongoing alliance.
The stories became more sophisticated as she approached six.
More detailed.
More ambitious.
More hilariously serious.
Beau claimed it was proof she would either become a novelist or run for public office someday.
Emily privately suggested both.
Caleb, meanwhile, remained Caleb.
At nearly two years old, he approached every day as though it were an adventure specifically designed for him. Fear simply did not seem to exist in his vocabulary. He climbed first and considered consequences second—if he considered them at all.
Y/N once found him standing triumphantly atop the coffee table.
Another time he somehow managed to move a dining room chair across the kitchen in pursuit of cookies.
When questioned, he merely smiled.
The smile was entirely Beau's.
And therefore impossible to stay angry at.
Then there was Ella.
At nine months old, she seemed determined to make up for lost time.
Crawling had arrived with shocking speed. One week she was rocking uncertainly on hands and knees. The next, she was moving through the house with alarming efficiency. No room remained safe. No object remained unexamined.
Her favorite activity became following people.
Especially Beau.
If Beau entered a room, Ella immediately attempted pursuit. If he left again, she expressed her displeasure loudly.
"Daddy's girl," Emily observed one afternoon as Ella crawled after Beau's retreating boots with remarkable determination.
"Traitor," Y/N replied.
Ella had also begun pulling herself upright against furniture. The coffee table. The couch. Beau's legs. Anything stable became an opportunity. She would stand there proudly, wobbling slightly, looking utterly delighted with herself.
The babbling had increased too.
"Dada" remained her favorite word.
Much to Y/N's annoyance.
"Mama" appeared occasionally, usually when she was upset or wanted something.
"Dada" was used for joy, excitement, curiosity, and apparently most household objects.
Beau found this deeply entertaining.
Y/N found it suspicious.
One evening, she caught him teaching Ella that his badge was "Dada's badge."
The baby immediately began pointing at it and chanting "Dada."
Y/N was still debating whether this counted as cheating.
Despite all of it—the diapers, the school drop-offs, the endless laundry, the toddler negotiations, the baby-proofing that somehow never stayed effective—she found herself feeling lighter.
The restlessness had transformed.
It no longer felt like a warning.
It felt like anticipation.
Sometimes she would be folding laundry while Ella crawled circles around her and suddenly find herself imagining a classroom. A future coworker. A different routine. Not instead of this life.
In addition to it.
That distinction mattered.
One evening, while helping Eliza color wolf insignias for an important council meeting, Y/N realized something that made her smile.
A few months ago, she had been afraid that wanting something beyond motherhood somehow diminished her love for it.
Now she understood the truth.
She loved this life completely.
She loved being Beau's wife.
Loved being Eliza's mother, Caleb's mother, Ella's mother.
Loved the noise and the chaos and the impossible fullness of it all.
But loving one chapter didn't mean she couldn't be curious about the next.
Across the room, Beau sat on the floor helping Caleb build a tower while Emily lounged on the couch, studying for class and occasionally contributing to Eliza's wolf government. Ella crawled determinedly toward the tower with obvious destructive intentions.
The structure collapsed moments later.
Caleb laughed.
Ella laughed.
Beau groaned dramatically.
And Y/N found herself smiling.
The future could wait a little longer.
For now, she was content to wonder.
The sheriff's department was many things.
Quiet was rarely one of them.
Beau sat behind his desk mid-morning, reviewing reports from the previous evening when dispatch transferred a call directly to him. He picked up expecting something serious.
Instead, he got Earl Patterson.
Which should have been his first warning. "Earl."
"Sheriff."
Beau leaned back in his chair. "What can I do for you?"
Earl took a deep breath. "I'd like to report a theft."
That got Beau's attention. "A theft?"
"Yes, sir."
"What was stolen?"
A pause.
"My prize rooster's dignity."
Beau closed his eyes.
Across the room, Doris immediately looked up from her desk. The woman had an almost supernatural ability to detect nonsense.
"Earl," Beau said carefully, "explain."
Apparently Earl's prized rooster, General Sherman, had engaged in a territorial dispute with another rooster belonging to his neighbor. The confrontation had occurred in full view of several ranch hands.
General Sherman had lost. Badly. The rooster had fled. The ranch hands had laughed. And Earl was convinced this constituted emotional damages.
Beau listened for nearly ten minutes while Earl described the incident in exhaustive detail. By the end of it, Beau knew more about rooster psychology than he'd ever wanted.
When the call finally ended, he slowly lowered the receiver and stared at the wall. The silence lasted approximately three seconds. Then Doris burst out laughing. Not a polite laugh. A full-bodied, shoulders-shaking cackle.
"Oh my God."
Beau rubbed his forehead. "Doris."
"Did a chicken lose a fistfight?"
"It was a rooster."
That only made her laugh harder.
Jenny chose that moment to walk into the bullpen carrying a file. She took one look at Doris nearly bent over her desk and Beau's exhausted expression. "What happened?"
Doris pointed dramatically. "General Sherman suffered emotional damages."
Jenny stopped. Blinked. Then looked at Beau. "Please tell me that's not what I think it means."
"It means exactly what you think it means."
Jenny closed her eyes. For a moment she looked like she was silently reevaluating every life choice that had brought her here. Then she laughed too. "Oh, that's fantastic."
"It's not fantastic."
"It absolutely is."
Beau leaned back in his chair and pointed a finger at both women. "One day," he said, "there's gonna be an actual emergency."
"Sure."
"And y'all are gonna regret mockin' me."
"Absolutely."
"You're both impossible."
Doris wiped tears from her eyes. "You know what the worst part is?"
"I don't want to know."
"The worst part is that I know exactly which rooster he's talking about."
Jenny groaned. "No."
"Oh yes."
"You've seen the rooster?"
"I've seen the rooster."
"Why?"
"Because this is Big Sky."
Neither Beau nor Jenny had a counterargument to that.
A few hours later another call came in regarding a cow that had somehow gotten itself onto the roof of a shed.
Nobody ever satisfactorily explained how.
By lunch, Beau had mediated a dispute involving a fence, a goat, and what appeared to be a decades-old grudge between two ranchers.
When he finally emerged from his office with a cup of coffee, Doris looked up from her desk. "How's your day, Sheriff?"
Beau considered. "My wife is looking at college classes."
Doris smiled immediately. "That's nice."
"My oldest daughter's in love."
"Also nice."
"My youngest daughter is learning to crawl."
"Awww."
"My son is probably committing property crimes at daycare."
"Almost certainly."
"And I've spent my morning discussing traumatized poultry."
Jenny laughed so hard she nearly dropped her file.
Beau took a long sip of coffee. Then, despite himself, he smiled.
Because somewhere between the rooster, the cow, the fence dispute, and the goat incident, his phone had buzzed. A picture from Y/N. Ella standing proudly while holding onto the coffee table. Nine months old and looking very pleased with herself.
Below the picture was a simple message: Look what your daughter did today.
Beau smiled again.
Doris caught it immediately. "Oh no."
"What?"
"The smile."
Jenny looked up. "The smile?"
Doris pointed. "That's Sheriff Shiny."
Beau groaned.
Jenny laughed.
And the sheriff's department returned to business as usual.
The afternoon had been relatively peaceful.
Which, in the Arlen household, usually meant disaster was quietly gathering momentum somewhere.
Y/N was in the living room trying to convince Caleb that climbing onto the back of the couch was not, in fact, an Olympic sport. Caleb disagreed vehemently and had already made three attempts.
Meanwhile, nine-month-old Ella sat nearby, proudly pulling herself upright against the coffee table. Every few seconds she would let go with one hand and beam at herself as though she'd personally conquered Mount Everest.
"Good job, baby girl," Y/N said.
Ella grinned.
Then promptly sat down on her diaper with a surprised expression.
The front door burst open.
Emily came flying inside.
"Mom!"
Y/N's heart immediately dropped.
She straightened so quickly Caleb nearly toppled over.
"What happened?"
Emily froze.
For one brief second she looked like someone who had just sprinted a mile.
Then the words exploded out of her.
"Peter wants to take the relationship to the next step."
Y/N blinked. "Oh."
Emily paced. "Oh?" she repeated. "That's all you've got? Oh?"
"Emily—"
"And I don't know what to do because I really like him and he's wonderful and he's sweet and he wasn't pressuring me and he was actually really respectful about it but what if I'm not ready and what if I wait too long and that ruins everything and what if I do it and that ruins everything and what if I'm terrible at it and—"
"Emily."
"What if—"
"Emily."
The young woman stopped pacing.
Y/N pointed toward the couch. "Sit."
Emily sat. Immediately. Years of maternal authority still had power.
Y/N settled beside her while Caleb drove a toy truck into a chair and Ella resumed her attempts to stand.
For a moment, neither woman spoke.
Y/N simply let Emily breathe.
Finally, Emily groaned and dropped her face into her hands. "Oh God."
"You done?"
"No."
"Close?"
"Maybe."
Y/N smiled. "Good enough."
Emily peeked through her fingers.
Y/N's expression was gentle. Not shocked. Not disappointed. Not worried. Just listening.
"Okay," Y/N said. "Tell me exactly what happened."
Emily took a breath. Then another. "He brought it up this morning."
"How?"
"He said he loved where our relationship was going. That he cared about me. That eventually he'd like us to be intimate."
Y/N nodded. "And?"
"And he said there wasn't a timeline. No pressure. No expectations."
"That's good."
"I know."
Emily groaned again. "That's the problem."
Y/N laughed softly. "Because it'd be easier if he were a jerk?"
"Exactly."
"Unfortunately, Peter appears to be a decent human being."
Emily slumped. "I know."
Y/N reached over and squeezed her hand. "Emily."
Her daughter looked up. "You do not owe anyone sex."
Immediately Emily relaxed a fraction.
"Not Peter. Not a boyfriend. Not someone you're in love with."
Emily nodded slowly.
"You don't do it because you're afraid someone will leave."
The nod became firmer.
"You don't do it because you think it'll save a relationship."
Another nod.
"And you definitely don't do it because you're worried you'll lose him if you don't."
Emily was quiet for a moment. Then she whispered, "What if I wait and he gets tired of waiting?"
Y/N considered that. "If Peter truly cares about you, he'll respect your answer."
Emily stared at her. "And if he doesn't?"
"Then he wasn't the right man for you."
The answer came easily. Certainly. Because Y/N believed it.
Emily looked down at her hands. "I just don't know if I'm ready."
Y/N smiled softly. "Then you're not."
Emily blinked. "What?"
"Sweetheart, the fact that you're saying those words means something."
Y/N tucked a strand of hair behind Emily's ear. "When you're ready, it shouldn't feel like you're trying to convince yourself."
The younger woman absorbed that quietly.
Around them, life continued. Caleb had apparently declared war on a pillow. Ella had managed to stand again and was applauding herself. The normalcy of it all seemed to help.
After a while Emily sighed. "I'm scared."
"I know."
"What if I make the wrong choice?"
Y/N smiled. "Then you'll survive it."
Emily looked skeptical. "That's not very comforting."
"It should be."
Y/N squeezed her hand again. "Because you're stronger than you think."
The room fell quiet.
Emily leaned into her shoulder the way she occasionally still did when life felt overwhelming.
For a few moments, they simply sat together. Mother and daughter. No judgment. No pressure. Just trust.
Finally, Emily laughed weakly. "I really thought this conversation was going to be worse."
Y/N raised an eyebrow. "Worse?"
"I don't know."
"Did you forget who raised you?"
Emily smiled. "A little."
Y/N kissed the top of her head. "Whatever you decide, make sure it's because it's what you want."
Not Peter.
Not fear.
Not expectation.
Her.
And for the first time since bursting through the front door, Emily looked calmer. Not because she had an answer. But because she understood something important.
She was allowed to take her time.
Emily was quiet for a long moment after that.
The living room had settled into a gentler rhythm. Caleb had finally exhausted himself and was now focused on pushing a truck across the rug while making determined engine noises. Ella sat nearby, happily chewing on a teething toy and periodically attempting to crawl toward trouble.
Emily stared at her hands. Then, hesitantly, she asked, "What was it like?"
Y/N tilted her head. "What was what like?"
Emily looked embarrassed immediately. "Your first time with Dad."
Y/N blinked. "Oh."
"That's probably way too personal."
"It is a little," Y/N admitted with a laugh.
Emily groaned. "I knew it."
"But that doesn't mean I can't answer."
Emily looked relieved.
Y/N settled deeper into the couch cushions, considering the question. It wasn't one she'd ever expected Emily to ask, though perhaps she should have. Emily wasn't a little girl anymore. She was a young woman trying to navigate adulthood, love, and all the uncertainty that came with both.
"It wasn't perfect," Y/N said finally.
Emily looked surprised. "Really?"
"Sweetheart, almost nobody's first time is perfect."
That earned a small smile.
Y/N glanced toward Ella, then back to Emily. "When your dad and I got together, we'd already spent a lot of time getting to know each other. We'd talked. We'd dated. We'd built trust first." She smiled softly at the memory. "Your father was absurdly patient."
Emily snorted. "That sounds like him."
"It does, doesn't it?"
Y/N's expression softened further. "The thing I remember most isn't the physical part."
Emily listened carefully.
"I remember feeling safe."
The answer seemed to surprise her. "Safe?"
Y/N nodded. "Your dad spent the entire evening making sure I was comfortable. Making sure I knew I could change my mind. Making sure I never felt pressured." She smiled faintly. "Honestly, I was probably more nervous than he was."
Emily laughed. "Hard to imagine."
"Oh, trust me."
Y/N shook her head. "I was worried about a hundred different things. Whether I looked okay. Whether I was making the right decision. Whether everything would somehow become awkward afterward."
"And?"
"And none of those things happened."
She smiled. "Because the relationship wasn't built on that moment. The relationship already existed."
Emily absorbed that quietly.
Y/N continued, "The next morning, your dad was exactly the same man he'd been the day before. Kind. Patient. Ridiculously attentive. He made breakfast. He checked on me. He checked on Eliza." Her voice softened. "Nothing changed except that we were a little closer."
The memory warmed her even now. Beau had been so careful with her heart back then. So determined to earn trust rather than demand it.
Emily stared at the floor. "I think that's part of what scares me."
"What does?"
"The idea that everything could change."
Y/N nodded. "That's a normal fear."
Emily looked up. "So how did you know?"
Y/N smiled gently. "I didn't know everything."
"That isn't very reassuring."
"No," Y/N admitted. "But it's true."
She reached over and squeezed Emily's hand. "I knew I loved him. I knew I trusted him. I knew I felt safe with him. Beyond that, there were no guarantees."
Emily was quiet.
"The truth is, sweetheart, sex doesn't create a healthy relationship. It doesn't save one either."
She glanced toward the kitchen where Caleb had somehow acquired a wooden spoon.
"A healthy relationship is built by everything that comes before and after. Trust. Respect. Communication. Kindness."
"And if I'm not ready?"
"Then you're not ready."
The answer came easily. Firmly. Without hesitation.
Y/N smiled. "And if you decide six months from now that you're ready, that's okay too."
Emily leaned back against the couch and exhaled slowly. "I really hate being an adult sometimes."
Y/N laughed. "Join the club."
That finally earned a genuine smile from Emily.
For a few moments they sat together, watching Caleb drive his truck into a table leg and Ella applaud herself for no apparent reason.
Then Emily rested her head briefly against Y/N's shoulder. "Thanks, Mom."
The word still touched Y/N every time. Not because she'd earned it through years of raising Emily from childhood. But because Emily had chosen it. Chosen her.
Y/N kissed the top of her head. "Anytime, sweetheart."
And for the first time since she'd burst through the front door in a panic, Emily looked like she could breathe again.
The house was asleep.
The kind of deep, complete sleep that only came after a full day of children, work, school, errands, and the thousand little moments that filled an Arlen day. Somewhere down the hall, Eliza was undoubtedly dreaming about wolves. Caleb had finally exhausted himself. Ella, after protesting bedtime on principle, had surrendered to sleep as well.
The bedroom was dark except for the soft glow of a bedside lamp.
Y/N rested comfortably against Beau's chest, her head tucked beneath his chin. One of his arms was draped around her waist, his fingers lazily tracing patterns against her skin while the quiet settled around them.
For a while, neither spoke.
Then Y/N said, "Emily had a bit of a panic attack today."
Beau's hand immediately stilled. "What happened?"
There was an instant alertness in his voice that made Y/N smile. "Nothing bad."
He relaxed slightly. "Define bad."
"Peter brought up eventually taking their relationship to the next level."
The silence that followed was immediate.
Profound.
Y/N lifted her head slightly.
Beau was staring at the ceiling.
Blinking.
Slowly.
"No."
She laughed. "Beau."
"Nope."
"Beau."
"Absolutely not."
A groan escaped him as he dropped his free arm over his eyes. "She's twelve."
"She's twenty."
"In my defense, I reject that information."
Y/N's laughter filled the room.
Beau shook his head. "No. See, this is ridiculous. Emily's supposed to be this sweet little girl."
"You mean the college student?"
"The little girl."
"The young woman with a boyfriend?"
"The little girl."
"The adult who can vote?"
"The little girl."
Y/N kissed his shoulder. "You're impossible."
He sighed dramatically. "I remember teachin' her how to ride a bike."
"And now?"
"And now apparently we're discussin' sex." His tone suggested this was a personal attack.
Y/N couldn't stop smiling.
For another moment Beau lay there quietly. Then the humor faded and something softer took its place. Because the truth was... he knew. Emily wasn't a child anymore. He'd seen it himself.
The confidence she'd gained at college. The way she talked about her future. The maturity she'd shown with Peter. The woman she was becoming.
He just wasn't always ready to acknowledge it. A long breath escaped him. "God."
"Yeah."
"She's really growin' up."
Y/N threaded her fingers through his. "She is."
Beau turned his head, looking down at her. "So what'd you tell her?"
The question was genuine. Curious. Trusting.
Y/N settled back against him. "I told her she didn't owe anyone sex."
His expression immediately softened. "Good."
"I told her she shouldn't do it because she's afraid of losing him. Or because she thinks it'll save a relationship."
Beau nodded slowly. "Also good."
"I told her if she's saying she doesn't know whether she's ready, then she's probably not ready."
A hint of relief crossed his face. "Thank you."
Y/N smiled. "I also told her that when she is ready, the decision should be hers."
Beau was quiet. Thoughtful. Then he nodded. "Yeah."
Not because he liked the idea. Because he respected it. Emily deserved that respect. The same respect he would want any man to show her. The same respect he hoped Peter would continue showing her.
After a moment, Beau asked quietly, "Did she seem okay afterward?"
"Much better."
He smiled faintly. "Good."
Y/N studied him. "You're handling this surprisingly well."
"No, I'm not."
She laughed. "No?"
"Inside, I'm considering arresting Peter."
"Beau."
"I'm just sayin'."
"On what charge?"
He thought about it. "Existin'."
That made her laugh so hard she buried her face in his chest.
Beau grinned, pleased with himself. Then his expression softened once more. "Truth is," he admitted quietly, "I'm glad she came to you."
Y/N looked up.
He brushed a hand through her hair. "She trusts you."
The words carried weight. Because they both knew the journey that had brought them here. Y/N hadn't raised Emily from childhood. She hadn't been there for scraped knees or elementary school plays. She'd entered Emily's life later.
And yet. Somewhere along the way, a relationship had grown. Built not by obligation, but by choice. Emily choosing to trust her. Y/N choosing to love her.
Beau's heart swelled just thinking about it.
"So am I," Y/N whispered.
He kissed her forehead. Then pulled her closer.
And together they lay there in the quiet darkness, thinking about daughters growing up, sons growing wild, babies learning to stand, and all the beautiful, complicated ways a family changed over time.
The next morning began exactly the way most Arlen mornings did.
With noise.
Eliza was explaining to anyone who would listen why ducks should not be allowed to vote in wolf elections. Caleb was attempting to wear one of Beau's boots despite the fact it was nearly half his size. Nine-month-old Ella sat in her highchair enthusiastically demolishing a banana while simultaneously decorating herself with it.
The kitchen looked like a battlefield.
The coffee was working overtime.
And somehow everyone was talking at once.
Beau stood at the counter nursing his mug while Y/N packed lunches. Emily was helping Eliza find a missing mitten that somehow turned out to be in the refrigerator.
Nobody questioned this.
After all, it was Eliza.
Eventually, though, the chaos shifted.
Y/N disappeared briefly to clean Ella's face.
Caleb became fascinated by a toy truck.
Eliza ran off to retrieve an important wolf document.
For one brief moment, Emily found herself alone near the coffee pot.
Beau seized the opportunity. "Hey, kiddo."
Emily glanced up. Something in his voice immediately caught her attention. "Yeah?"
Beau rubbed the back of his neck. For a moment he looked strangely uncomfortable. Which was alarming. Because Beau Arlen rarely looked uncomfortable.
"Oh God," Emily said immediately. "What?"
"Nothing."
"That's not reassuring."
He exhaled. "No, it ain't."
Emily stared.
Beau stared back. Then finally sighed. "Your mom told me about your conversation."
Emily immediately groaned. "Oh my God."
"Now hold on."
"Dad."
"Just hear me out."
Emily covered her face.
Beau couldn't help smiling.
She looked exactly like she had when she was sixteen and embarrassed. Except now she was a college student. Which was still a fact he was struggling with.
A lot.
Finally Emily peeked through her fingers. "What?"
Beau leaned against the counter. "I know this is awkward."
"The worst."
"The absolute worst."
"Glad we're on the same page."
That earned a laugh from both of them. The tension eased. A little.
Beau became serious again. "I just wanted you to know somethin'."
Emily straightened slightly.
His voice had changed. This wasn't teasing anymore. This was father territory. "I'm proud of you."
The words surprised her. "What?"
"I'm proud of you." Beau shrugged one shoulder. "You didn't panic and make a decision because somebody expected one."
Emily blinked.
"You thought about it."
She nodded.
"You asked questions."
Another nod.
"You took your time."
A third.
"That's maturity, Em."
Her eyes softened.
Beau took a slow breath. "Your whole life, I've wanted you to know that you never have to earn my love."
The kitchen seemed quieter suddenly. Not silent. Just smaller. More focused.
"Whatever you decide," Beau continued, "that's your decision."
Emily swallowed.
"If you decide you're not ready, that's fine." He paused. "If you decide someday that you are, that's fine too."
His expression was steady. Certain. "All I care about is that you're safe. That you're respected. That you're making choices because they're yours."
Emily felt emotion rising unexpectedly in her chest.
Beau reached out and squeezed her shoulder. "And if anything ever goes wrong..."
She looked up.
His green eyes held hers. "If you get scared." His voice softened. "If you make a mistake."
Softer still. "If you regret somethin'."
Emily's throat tightened.
"If you get pregnant."
There it was. The thing most fathers danced around. Beau didn't. "You call me."
The words landed with absolute certainty. Not judgment. Not disappointment. Not conditions. Just certainty.
"You hear me?"
Emily nodded. "No matter what?"
"No matter what."
His answer came instantly. No hesitation. No qualifiers. "Nothing changes that you're my daughter."
The emotion she'd been fighting finally broke through. "Dad..."
"You call me." His voice was firm now. "You don't hide. You don't panic. You don't try to carry it alone."
Emily's eyes shimmered. "I won't."
"Good."
Beau pulled her into a hug then. A real one. The kind he gave when words weren't quite enough.
Emily hugged him back immediately. For a moment she was twenty years old. For a moment she was ten. For a moment she was both.
"I love you," Beau murmured.
"I love you too."
Behind them, Eliza burst back into the kitchen.
"WOLF EMERGENCY."
The moment shattered instantly.
Beau sighed.
Emily laughed.
And life resumed.
But the warmth of that conversation stayed with her long after the morning chaos swept everyone away.
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