TWO CHAPTERS IN ONE WEEK? WHO IS SHE! And yes, I get it, you all have been heard! Quil & Claire being dumbly happy together is coming your way, starting now :) (and thanks to ISeeDaylight, whose review about wanting to see Quil and Claire find something like a marathon or National Parks sparked my creativity… and Quil's ;) )

So here's to the end and new beginnings. "Wishful Thinking" – LÉON

Claire

"We don't have to go in," Quil says again, and I know he means it now. Just like he also meant it the first four times he said it on the drive over here. "I'm sure they'd understand."

"I want to," I say again, also meaning it for the fourth time in a row.

He grins at me, turning off his truck. "Alright, then. Let's do this."

The Call house is bright yellow as we come up the front walk, despite the dull gray of February draped over every nook and cranny of this town. And I wonder if it isn't warming itself from the inside out somehow. There's a lot of love in this house. Maybe that's it.

Quil doesn't knock, because it usually sets off Blue, the border collie who spins around our ankles now as we tug off our jackets and gloves just inside the door.

"Hey, buddy," I say, smiling when he does. He gives me another excited spin, then runs for the nearest toy and drops it at my feet. I throw the ball in the direction of the kitchen even though I don't think it's allowed inside the house.

I scan the rest of the space quickly.

The television plays a kid's cartoon, and there is what I take to be a normalamount of kids' paraphernalia strewn about the room. A chunky knit blanket hangs over the back of the fading yellow couch, nearly skimming the worn carpet. The coffee table features remotes with grease prints, schoolbooks, and an empty single-serving pudding cup, among other things.

Embry Call comes out of the master bedroom, the only room on the first floor just to the right of the stairs. He looks the same as when I met him, frozen at twenty-five, but I'd imagine now that Bethany is firmly in her thirties, that will stop whenever he decides to leave the pack. Especially once they have two kids under three to care for. He's wearing jeans and a comfortable looking pull-over, a duffle bag slung over his shoulder.

"Hey, man," Embry says, setting his bag on the coffee table and disturbing everything on top. He goes for a hug from his brother. "Thank you both again for doing this."

Oh, yeah. This.

Babysitting.

Overnight.

I suppress a shudder.

"We're happy to, bro," Quil says, clapping his brother on the back once more before they pull away. "Speaking of, where are the—"

A gasp fills the stairwell.

"Aunt Claire!" Sadie says, skipping the last step and rushing over to tackle me around the middle. She's twelve as of last month and is growing like a weed. If she's anything like her mom, she will be tall and strong. "I didn't know you were coming. This is going to be so fun now!"

"Hey," Quil says, ruffling her already frizzy mane of dark hair as she stays latched around my waist. "What's that supposed to mean? Am I not fun?"

Sadie looks at me, can-you-believe-this-guy written on her face, and I scrunch my nose back at her. I can do this. Easy peasy.

"You're a guy," Sadie says.

"Where's your brother?" I say, and she tilts her head to the bedroom.

Embry explains further. "He's getting his first molars. He needed some mommy time."

Quil snorts, finally accepting Sadie's hug now that she's moved on from me. "He needed it, or she needed it?"

Embry and Sadie share a conspiratorial look.

"Heard that," Bethany says, emerging from the bedroom with a sleeping Parker tucked under her chin. Her red hair is tied up in a sloppy bun. Between Parker and the baby bump that's only a few months smaller than Mia's, I'd imagine her back hurts. Mine hurts just looking at her.

"Let me have him," I offer, and, yeah, she doesn't waste any time taking me up on that.

As I get Parker settled against my chest, Embry and Bethany fill us in on their plans. Not only is it Valentine's Day, but I'm pretty sure this is the only trip Bethany and Embry plan to take before the baby is born. They're renting a cabin for a night, somewhere in the Hoh Valley.

"We'll be back tomorrow around lunch," Embry says. "But just call us if anything comes up."

Bethany leans over and covers Sadie's ears. "Do not fucking call us," she says, her voice dropping into murderous territory. "I want to have sex without it being a threesome with the baby monitor."

Everyone laughs, but I'm not sure she's joking.

Sadie squirms away from her mom's touch as soon as her ears are free, and I chuckle at the sight of it.

They're all so… so happy. I know they haven't had an easy go of it—there are more charms on Bethany's birthstone necklace than they have children, and Sadie's biological father really caused some messy shit a few years ago—but you wouldn't know it by looking at them.

If you managed to see the way Embry's gaze lingers on his wife, how he gravitates toward her and her every single movement, you'd think they'd always been this content.

And maybe they have. Maybe they've been able to look past all the hard days and focus on the happy ones.

I wish that for them.

I wish that for me.

I squeeze Parker a little tighter to my chest.

Goodbyes are said, emergency numbers are provided, and the car is started. But Bethany still practically rips her baby out of my arms again, hugging him close. Still kisses Sadie's hair about fifteen times.

"It's the hormones," Embry whispers to Quil and I, his gaze nothing but love as it locks on his wife. "She gets a little… emotional."

"I heard that," Bethany sniffles.

"I'm sorry," Embry says, trying and failing to hide a smile. "I'll make it up to you later." There is no confusing his tone.

Bethany sets Parker down on the floor, letting him toddle away. "Why aren't we there yet?"

Dinner is a five-star experience of spaghetti and homemade meatballs, which Sadie helps us cook. She shapes the meatballs and drops the pasta and flips the garlic bread, and yeah. Babysitting is easy when the kids feed themselves.

"Done," Parker says, smacking his hand directly into the leftover sauce on his plate. If he wasn't messy before, he is now.

"Alright, Park," Quil says, pushing back from the table. "Ready for a bath?"

"No bath," Parker says, his brow furrowing. And despite him being a miniaturized version of his father, that pout came straight from Bethany.

"How about yes bath?" Quil says, scooping him up anyway. Quil looks at me, his eyes softening. "If you wait on cleaning up, I can help."

"I've got it," I say. He squeezes my shoulder as they pass me on the way to the stairs.

Sadie finishes her garlic bread with a flourish. "You're like Mom and Dad, with how you look at each other." She looks mostly disgusted, but also a little… intrigued? Interesting.

I shrug, fighting a smile. "Sometimes, when you love someone so much, it comes out in how you look in them because it doesn't have anywhere else to go." Her mouth quirks as she looks down at the table. "Do you ever look at anyone like that?"

"No," she says, not meeting my eyes. "I can help you clean up dinner."

Is that all it takes to get a preteen to help with chores? To ask them about their crush? I stick that in my back pocket.

Sadie and I pull things off the table, store the extra cheese and condiments back in the refrigerator.

"Are you getting excited for your new sibling?" I say, stowing the rinsed plates in the dishwasher.

Sadie hands me forks for the silverware basket. "I think so," she says. "Mom and Dad are letting me pick the baby's name, which is cool. But babies cry a lot." She grimaces, and I swallow my laugh.

From what I remember, since Bethany and Embry have one of each kid, they're keeping the gender of this one a surprise. "That's a big responsibility. What do you have picked out?"

"Well, for a boy, I was thinking Octavius."

I choke on air. "Were you?"

She snickers. "No. I just wanted to see your face. For a boy, I picked Beckett. And Reagan for a girl."

My chest warms, shoulders relax. Beckett Call. Reagan Call. Nice names. Way better than Octavius. Funny girl, my niece.

I shut the dishwasher and turn to the sink, flicking the tap to something manageably hot. "Do you want it to be Beckett or Reagan?"

She shrugs, a loose curl slipping forward into her face. "I don't know. Do you have any brother or sisters?"

"A little sister. Her name is Callie."

"And Uncle Quil is my dad's brother." Sadie leans against the counter, tucking a foot into the bend of her supporting leg the same way I've seen Bethany do a hundred times. When did Sadie get old enough to show mannerisms like that? To have an adult conversation where she shares her honest feelings? She still had her baby teeth when I met her for the first time. "But I already have a brother. Do you like having a sister?"

I think about last night, how Callie and I laid in her bed and watched reruns of our favorite show on her laptop when neither of us were ready for sleep. How when Jensen started texting her, I stole her phone and pretended to say weird or scandalous things. How she wasn't even mad because it was so funny.

"Having a sister is the best," I say, meaning it with everything I am.

"That's what I want, then. A sister." Sadie nods, firm in a way that I don't doubt she'll get exactly what she wants.

After Parker is clean and bathed, Quil puts him down in his crib. Sadie, Quil, and I finish out the night with an epic Mario Kart battle, and it is both surprising and not that they both kick my butt. After Sadie yawns, she says she's going to read before bed, and Quil goes about letting Blue out for the last time, locking up the house, as I search for something to watch.

I've given up by the time he comes back.

"What's the matter?" He slips my feet onto his lap, massaging the arches with his thumbs.

"Nothing now," I say, letting my head fall back and enjoying the way he touches me. To be fair, I always enjoy the way he touches me.

After a minute, I open my eyes to see his gaze trained on me, concern knitting his brows together.

"I'm…" I sigh. "I don't know if bored is the right word. Restless, maybe? I just want something to do that's for me."

"What about surfing? You have that."

I roll my head on the back of the couch. "It's February, Quil."

"I can buy you a wetsuit."

"I have a wetsuit."

"I can take you somewhere you don't need a wetsuit. Somewhere you can surf naked."

"That sounds dangerous."

"That sounds sexy as hell," he says. "But okay, I'll bite. What did you have in mind?"

I shrug, staring at the ceiling. "I really don't know, that's the problem. Bethany and Embry do their running thing. Seth and Katie do the National Parks. And Jacob and Nessie just read and fuck all day, I'm pretty sure."

In my periphery, his grin turns wicked. "Now, that, I could get behind. Or over or under. Lady's choice."

I pull my foot from his grasp and shove it into his chest instead. "Unhelpful." Even though his words spark up that ember inside me, the one saved just for him that never goes out. "I'm serious."

"I know." He sits up, taking my face between his warm, gentle hands. Quil rests his forehead on mine. "We'll find you something. Find us something that's just ours. And hey, why don't we try out everybody else's hobbies first, okay? We'll hike—"

"Gross."

"—and run—"

"Not for me."

"—And read, until we find something that sticks." He kisses me once, right on the tip of my nose. "I promise to make it very fun for you."

And wouldn't you know, I think I see an ember burning in his eyes, too.

"Fun how?" I ask suspiciously, pulling back.

He grins, all evil. "You'll see."

Parker Call is seventeen months of teeth and sass and bad timing.

Quil pulls his hand from my pants, his forehead falling to mine. It's past midnight, and we thought we were in the clear for the evening, which is why we took our make out session from the couch to the bed. Five minutes later, Parker is screaming. Quil sighs. "I've got him."

"Wait," I say, fingers curling around his forearm. "Do you think he'll fall back asleep on his own?"

Parker lets out an earsplitting scream that can be heard even without the baby monitor.

"No," Quil groans. "I really don't."

"I'll go, then." I slip out from underneath him. "And you can think about me while I'm gone."

My wolf flops to his back, groaning again even as his hand travels to the waistband of his pants. "You're going to kill me."

"Now if sex was a hobby—that would be fun."

Shutting the bedroom door on my way out, I trudge up the stairs to Parker's room. He's sitting up in his crib, fat tears falling down his rounded, ruddy cheeks.

"Hurts," he whines, reaching for me.

"Fuck," I whisper, then add, "Please don't repeat that," as I scoop him up.

His face wrinkles, mouth puckering as he prepares to let out another deafening cry.

"I know, buddy." I bounce him, but it's not getting any better. He seems to scream louder. "What hurts, Park? Can you tell me?"

"Mouf," he says, his hand coming up to chew on.

"Oh." My relief is because that actually makes sense. "Are you growing some new teeth? Is that all?" Embry did say he was getting his molars, after all.

I carry Parker downstairs and to the fridge, where I'm hoping to find—yes, there we go. A packet of yogurt teethers I remember Nessie swore by when Marie started teething. I somehow manage to open the package with Parker still in my arms, and I hand him one.

He immediately puts it in his mouth, his cries quieting now that something is working in his favor.

"Isn't that better?" I say, scanning the list on the fridge. Bethany said children's Tylenol was okay, so if this doesn't quiet him down, maybe we'll try that next.

I keep walking, bouncing, talking in a hushed voice, and he's not through his second teether before his head drops onto my shoulder. I kiss the crown of his head. "There you go, Park. I've got you."

"You're good with him," Quil says softly from behind me.

I look over my shoulder at him. He's shirtless, his sweats low on his hips and leading to someplace indecent. His eyes are near black.

Gently, I pull the treat from Parker's loosening grip. "Thanks." I eye Quil, the strain in the fabric below his waist. "I thought you were going to take care of that."

"I did." An uncharacteristic blush darkens his cheeks. "But seeing you—" He cuts himself off, but I know him. Seeing me holding a baby has gotten him going again.

Fuck it. Who says sex can't be a hobby?

"If you take him upstairs," I say. "I'll be naked by the time you come back."

Let the games begin.