Desired By Three Alphas; Fated To One - Chapter 247

Chapter 247: Arrived
Hailee’s POV

Outside, the car waited. I helped Oscar climb in. He sat very straight with his bag on his lap. I slid in next to him, and the guards took the front and the other back seat. The car rolled out and picked up speed.

The city moved past the windows: market stalls just opening, a man sweeping his step, a girl pulling a little cart with bread, a dog sleeping under a table, a woman hanging cloth out to dry even though the air was crisp. The sun was low and gold, the sky pale and clear. People did not stop to stare. The car looked like any other. That was the point.

I looked at Oscar. “Nervous?” I asked.

He twisted the strap of his bag. “A little,” he said. Then he looked up. “But happy too.”

“What would you like to say first when you see him?” I asked.

He thought. “Hi, Dad,” he said quietly, testing how it felt in his mouth. “Hi, Dad. I missed you.”

“That sounds good,” I said, and my throat went tight again.

He peered at me. “Are you okay, Mom?”

“I will be,” I said and smiled. “When I see that your dad is okay.”

He nodded like he understood all of it. Maybe he did. He was only ten, but my boys had seen too much and learned too fast. I wished it were not so. I squeezed his hand. He squeezed back.

The drive to the airfield did not take long. The plane waited at the edge of the runway. We went up the steps and took our seats.

“Seatbelt,” I said, and showed him how to click it. He clicked it and then clicked it again just to feel sure.

The plane took off with a gentle push. The city fell away under us. The fields became a patchwork quilt—green, gold, brown. Rivers made silver lines like writing. Clouds drifted like ships. Oscar pressed his forehead to the window and stared and stared. He smiled without even knowing he was doing it.

“Can I have the cookie?” he asked after a while, pointing to the little basket the attendant had set down.

“Yes,” I said, and he took one and then broke it in half and gave me the bigger piece. “Thank you,” I said, and meant it in more ways than one.

We read for a bit. He leaned his head on my shoulder for a few minutes and then sat up again because he could not sit still. He asked how much longer. I showed him the little moving map on the screen. He asked if his grandma would be at the house. I said I thought so. He asked if his dad would be awake. I said I hoped so. Then we fell into a quiet that was not empty, just full of thoughts.

The plane landed smoothly and easily. The doors opened. The air smelled different as soon as we stepped out—warmer, with a hint of pine and dust. The sun was higher in the sky here. The light felt a little softer, like it had been filtered through thin cloth.

A car waited at the bottom of the steps. Two men stood near it. I knew one right away: Leo, Nathan’s second. He had the same steady eyes, the same calm he had on the phone. He bowed to me and then crouched a little to be eye level with Oscar.

“You must be Oscar,” he said kindly.

Oscar nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“I am Leo,” he said. “I am your father’s friend. I have known him since we were younger than you.” He smiled. “He is going to be very happy to see you.”

A small sound came out of Oscar’s throat—a happy hiccup of air. He tried to hide it by biting his lip. I smoothed his hair back.

“How is he?” I asked Leo. My voice tried to shake, but I did not let it. “Truly.”

Leo glanced at me and then at Oscar and back to me. “He is fine,” he said, and his voice was gentle. “The healer is pleased. He is resting. He is stubborn.” The corner of his mouth turned up. “He has been asking when you would get here.”

I nodded. The words helped, even if worry still sat heavy in my ribs. “Let’s go,” I said.

We got into the car. Leo sat in front with the driver. I sat in the back with Oscar, who held my hand and his bag at the same time. We drove through the town—small shops, a schoolyard, a little park with a fountain—and then out, past fields and a line of trees, up a lane I remembered in my bones.

We arrived at the pack house. Nathan’s mother stood on the steps, her hands pressed to her mouth, her eyes bright with tears that were not sad. She looked older than when I had seen her last, but her smile was the same.

The moment she saw Oscar, she came down the steps fast, not even trying to hide her joy. She stopped a step away, like she wanted to be sure, and then she could not help herself. She opened her arms.

“Grandma,” Oscar said, and his voice cracked on the second syllable.

She folded him into a hug that looked like it could hold the whole world. She laughed and cried at the same time. “Happy birthday, Grandma,” he said into her shoulder, muffled and sweet.

“Oh, my heart,” she breathed, and kissed his head again and again. “Best gift. Best boy.”

I smiled. I could not help it. The way she looked at him made my chest ache in a good way. I stepped closer and touched her arm. “Happy birthday,” I said.

She looked up at me and took my hands and squeezed hard. “Thank you for bringing him,” she said. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” I said. My eyes moved past her without meaning to, scanning the yard, the door, the windows, as if the man I was searching for might appear simply because I wanted him to.

She saw where I was looking. Mothers see these things. “He is in his room,” she said softly. “He has been very impatient.” She smiled a little. “I think you know the way.”

I nodded. I looked at Oscar. “I’m going to check on your dad,” I said. “Stay with Grandma. Be polite. Mind your words. Don’t run.”

He straightened and nodded. “Yes, Mom.”

Leo stepped up beside me as I moved toward the door. “You can go in alone,” he said quietly. “He sent everyone else out when he heard the car.”

A nervous laugh slipped from me. “Of course he did.”

Inside, the air was warm and full of the smells of food and herbs and clean wood. The hallways were the same as they had been years ago. My feet remembered which boards creaked. My hands remembered which walls were smooth and which had small chips.

I went to his door. I did not knock. I could not. If I stopped, if I paused, I might fall apart. I pushed the door open and stepped in.

Nathan lay on the bed, half sitting, pillows propped behind him. He was shirtless. A wide bandage wrapped his chest and ribs. His skin was a little pale. His hair was messy. He looked tired and alive and so much like himself that I forgot how to breathe.

He turned his head, and when his eyes found me, a slow, big smile spread over his face. It was not his teasing smile or his king smile. It was the one that only showed up on very rare days. It was the one that meant relief and home and I knew you would come.

Something fluttered hard in my chest, like a bird that had been trapped too long found an open window at last.

I didn’t think. I didn’t speak. I ran the few steps between us and fell into him. My hands went to his face, my lips to his.