Chapter 21

Grace

Though I had said that, nothing in me said that it was possible. The car came to a stop, and George came around to open my door, offering me his hand to get out. He smiled warmly at me, and I realized he wasn’t the same man that had dropped me off.

“You have another assistant?”

“I do,” Charles said, coming around the car. “Though I’ve sent him home.”

I nodded and looked up at the front of my house. The Mooncrest pack house was a timeless colonial-style home. I didn’t remember how many rooms were in it, but it was enough to house just about anyone we wanted to at one time. The house's exterior had been redone several times to repair the warm russet and terra cotta brick façade. The house was surrounded by a lush grove of ancient oaks.

The white-trimmed windows seemed to gleam in the warm light coming from the windows. The front door was flanked by regal columns, and there were bench swings on either side of the front porch and the back.

It had been home my entire life and everyone in my family. Even though Eason and I were the only ones left, I couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. It struck me that I had nearly lost it because I had trusted the wrong person…

It was worth several millions. If I had lost it, I would have had to work my whole life to have even earned enough to get a loan to buy it back. He could have rented it out, held it over my head as random, or anything else, but Charles had given me the Mooncrest pack house for nothing.

My eyes pricked with tears. As unsettling as everything lately had been, I couldn't ignore the sense of peace that filled me. My house was still my family’s house, and I had someone to rely on. A peculiar flutter went through my stomach at the prospect of living with him, but I pushed it away.

“It’s a beautiful house,” Charles said.

“It had a different name, Applewood Manor, before my great-grandfather bought it. Every alpha is supposed to do a little work on it.” I smiled, clutching the deed paperwork against my chest. “It’s… more than just a house.”

It was my family legacy and the original city hall of Mooncrest.

“There aren’t a lot of old colonial-style houses left anymore,” he said. “I can only imagine how hard it’s been to keep it up to date. It’s at least a few centuries old, isn’t it?”

“It is…” I laughed. “Dad said getting electricity was the hardest part, but it was worth it. Come on.”

As Charles and I entered the welcoming atmosphere of my pack home, I could feel a sense of both excitement and relief. The wide, polished wooden floorboards creak softly underfoot. I could smell warm butter from the kitchen. Kelly must have made Cecil a grilled cheese sandwich or something.

I sighed. It had been such a long day. Coming back to what had essentially been my whole world for the past few years felt like I was leaving the burden of the pack and the company to someone else. Knowing that I would have been stepping into eerie silence and darkness had it not been for Charles, I wanted to melt onto the couch and sleep for a week.

“Hi, Alpha Grace!” Kelly said, bounding around the corner. Her eyes grew wide at the sight of Charles beside me. “And… guest?”

I laughed. "Charles, I'd like you to meet Kelly, my babysitter. She’s been a lifesaver."

He bowed his head and lifted her hand in greeting. It sent a rush through me, remembering the way we met. Kelly flushed.

“A pleasure.”

"Mommy, who's this?"

My heart lightened at the sound of my daughter, Cecil. Her innocent eyes were wide with curiosity as she peered around the corner from the living room.

I crouched down and waved her towards me. “Come on, Cecil. There’s no need to be nervous.”

She hesitated, but she shuffled to me. As if he had done it a million times, he crouched down beside me so he was eye-level with Cecil. Her gaze fixed on Charles’ face. A small smile tugged at her lips.

“This is…” I hesitated for a moment, then I said, "This is your grandfather, Charles."

Charles’ lips twitched. I almost giggled at the sharp shift of expression on his face that he tried to hide. Then, his smile turned warm.

“I suppose technically, I am,” he held out his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Cecil.”

She frowned. “You don’t look like a grandpa.”

She let out a little giggle. “Grandpas have white hair.”

He smirked as she held out her hand. He lifted her hand in the same greeting.

Her eyes lit up. “Are you a prince like in the books?”

“No,” Charles said. “Though I am a king.”

Her jaw opened. “A king? Really?”

He nodded.

“Does that mean daddy is a prince?” She scrunched her brow. “Or does that mean mommy is a queen?”

My face heated. “Perhaps one day she will be, but no, your father isn’t a prince. I adopted your father when he was very young. That’s why I’m only technically your grandfather.”

She hummed, and her expression scrunched into something more frustrated. “I think Mommy should be a queen. Can I call you uncle instead?”

He chuckled. “If you’d like.”

I felt a warmth spreading through my chest as I watched the interaction. Cecil was known for being cautious around people she didn't know well, and yet here she was, talking to Charles like this. It was strangely endearing to see the Lycan King acting so paternal. It might be my mom feels, but I couldn’t help but smile.

“Is Richard still sleeping?” I asked Kelly as she started to pack her bag.

“Like the cute little baby he is. I gave him a bottle about half an hour ago, so he shouldn’t be hungry for a little while. I’ll see you tomorrow!”

“Get to class on time,” I called after her.

“Bye, Kelly!” Cecil called after her.

I waved her goodbye and closed the door behind her before turning to Cecil.

“Charles will be staying with us. Should we give him a tour?”

“Oh, let’s go!” Cecil eagerly took Charles's hand, her small fingers encased in his. “I’ll show you all the good parts!”

She led him down the hallway, past the living room, and around the bottom floor, gushing about her favorite places. I trailed behind, touched at the ease Charles took to Cecil’s biased tour of the kitchen, pointing out where all the snacks were before taking him outside to where the sprinklers were and the swing set.

“Oh, and this is the playroom!” Cecil gestured to the room full of toys.

“Looks like a fun place. Do you like Legos?”

She nodded. “Legos are the best… So are tea parties—Oh, will you come to a tea party with me and mommy?”

“I’d be honored.”

The image of Charles’s legs tucked against his chest at Cecil’s tiny table made my heart melt and the urge to giggle rise. It was crazy how such an easy rapport had developed between Charles and Cecil. He treated her with respect and kindness, engaging her in conversation as if her opinions about the best seat to color in at the dining table were as serious as any stock report. I couldn’t help but smile.

Soon, we headed upstairs to where all the bedrooms were.

“Why don’t you pick out Charles’ room?” I suggested.

Cecil looked up and down the hallway, scrunching up her nose before her eyes lit up.

“You’ll like this one. It’s got a window and—”

Richard's wailing echoed down the hallway. My heart skipped a beat, and I exchanged a glance with Charles before hurrying toward Richard's room. Cecil stayed close to Charles, her eyes wide with concern.

I went to the nursery that was attached to the master, and his screaming grew louder as I opened the door.

“What’s wrong?” I cooed as I scooped up my youngest in my arms; his cries were loud and insistent. I went through the checklist: he wasn't hungry, his diaper was clean. I started gently rocking him, murmuring soothing words, trying to discern the source of his distress.

Charles appeared at the doorway, his brow furrowed with worry. "Is everything alright, Grace?"

"I'm not sure," I admitted, my voice tinged with frustration as Richard's cries continued. "He's not hungry, and he doesn't seem uncomfortable."

As I tried to soothe Richard, Charles stepped closer, his presence comforting despite the situation. Richard's cries began to wane, but the tension in the room remained palpable.

Then, a low rumbling growl swept through the air. My eyes widened as I looked over at Charles. Before I could ask what the hell he was doing, Richard shifted. Richard emitted a sound that was startlingly familiar—a low, soft growl.

What?