Thicker Than Ink

Sixty Three

    It hadn't taken very long for me to start pulling apart the lettuce to get ready to wash it before Silas has his arms around my waist again... His lips pressed into my neck while I listen to the sizzle of the butter melting in the pan on the stove while he waits for it to be ready enough to crack our eggs into it... The Father of my child letting his hands make themselves at home over my lower belly... The way he's seeking comfort from both me and baby right now is so touching that it's almost impossible to keep my eyes from watering...

I know he still feels really vulnerable right now...

I know that he's still struggling and that his mind isn't in a good place... He feels scared for his parents and what everything that's happened so far will mean for the pack... As well as worried for himself and for me and the safety of our unborn child...

My sweet strong mate feels overwhelmed and I can't say that I blame him for it... Because I'm right here, in his arms, and I'm the one helping him shoulder the burden... Just like I should be.

I know that it might take him a while to really start to heal and recover from the trauma today, and it's even more important now than ever for us to really buckle down and take our upcoming therapy seriously so we can make sure he does heal... But hopefully with my support and the support of everyone who loves us... He'll eventually be okay...

...

Silas

...

    There are no words that can describe just how comforting it is just to be able to hold my little family close all at the same time... Not that I think anyone would try to make me justify the need I feel to hold him whenever I have a moment...

I know I still need to pay attention to the pan... I really don't want to have to deal with the smell of scorched butter right now...

Especially not if what I'm smelling outside of our food is correct and Agatha, as well as Liam and Casper, are all here... With the way that their scents each trail off... Casper and Agatha are each presumably in one of the guest bedrooms in order to keep an eye on us and be here to offer support just in case we need it... And Liam's seems as if it leads to the back porch...

I can only assume that after what we witnessed earlier that he can't sleep and decided to keep watch, his noted insomnia likely not making approaching sleep any easier for him with his mind just as buzzing and full as mine is when I brush against his consciousness before backing away to give the man his late-night privacy...

If he were out in the back yard I would likely feel nervous and anxious over the thought of him possibly getting hurt... My brain not necessarily feeling receptive to the idea of ever heading back out there again myself for fear of witnessing another person taken down by an act of violence that none of us saw coming... But somehow the distinction of him being on the porch feels safer somehow...

Maybe it's because I know he's closer to the house and I'll hear if anything happens to him... But I think it also may be because it wasn't the back porch that Pop collapsed on... It's not the wood or concrete that's currently stained with more blood than I've ever seen come out of a shifter or human before...

Somehow it just feels safer to me... Even if him being outside alone does make me anxious...

"Careful, Daddy... The butter is starting to brown." My Addy is so gentle as he brings it to my attention that the butter is not only fully melted but that it's started to toast itself up just slightly... And I know I need to catch it before it goes too far so we don't have to start all over again...

As much as I don't want to let him go... I somehow manage to unwind my arms and surrender the belly that I've always been so fond of, the way that I trudge to the stovetop after doing so making it feel like the spot is a million miles from where I actually want to be...

Granted, where I want to be is currently hidden under our comforter with my head buried in the pillows pretending the world, and this fresh set of problems and traumatic events don't exist and never happened... At least until morning...

But I know that that isn't the most healthy way to cope... And I know that I need to make sure that Addy gets something into that precious belly of his because I know he feels more glued to my side than ever so he can make sure I feel supported and loved through the storm we've found ourselves in...

Cracking the two eggs feels almost as if I'm on autopilot, just the simple motion of preparing food as if everything were normal, even though it's in the middle of the night with guests in the house that we're trying not to wake... It feels soothing somehow...

Not as much as holding Adrian... But it somehow offers a small amount of comfort from giving my body something to do other than shake with anxiety, even if my mind can't necessarily pull itself away from the pain that I feel has turned itself into a second skin from having to listen to Ma in so much pain and watching Pop's knees buckle...

Somehow it feels strange to admit to myself that the frying eggs actually smell the tiniest bit appealing to me... But as it dawns on me that I don't actually remember when the last time we actually ate was... It makes sense...

I do my best to focus on not burning the eggs, my mind allowing small branches of concentration to be used on cooking other than just circling the drain over how overwhelmed I feel right now... My sweet Bean beating me to popping two slices of the sourdough into the toaster before he grabs the cheese while taking out some cucumber and tomato to slice up for the salad, the ranch nestled so cutely in the crook of his arm as well so he can have everything ready to go as soon as the sandwich we'll be sharing is put together... Both of us more than ready to eat and take our tired butts to bed.