We are halfway through the folding when Ezra finally comes back downstairs. Mateo looks over the back of the couch and then back at Ezra as he heads out the door.
Mateo’s brows pinch together in what seems to be a mix of confusion and worry. I know he is feeling Ezra’s tumultuous thoughts through the bond. I can feel them too, and I worry just as much as Mateo does. However, I believe this time, Ezra needs him, not me.
“Just go, I don’t need your help here.” I don’t need the bond to know that Mateo really wants to check on Ezra. He leans forward to set the timer on the rocker, letting it rock itself.
“Stay with Kat?” Mateo asks Marge.
“Of course, Mateo. I don’t know why you bother asking anymore, son. I would never say no,” Marge scolds as she folds baby clothes.
Do they realize I am right here, and I can hear them? Hello? Have I managed to become invisible all of a sudden?
I don’t need a babysitter to watch my kids. As hard as it sometimes gets, I can manage on my own.
And yet, as irritated as I feel, I let their behavior slide. I don’t want to argue, especially with Marge being here. Our issues are ours only, we don’t need an audience during our ugly moments.
Mateo walks over, and bends to press his lips to mine, but I pull away and reach for a towel instead. Mateo sighs heavily, like the world’s weight is on his shoulders, I try to ignore him, but he quickly grips my chin and forces me to look at him. I glare at him instead.
I don’t think he understands how much his words sting. He doesn’t think sometimes when he speaks and doesn’t realize that he implies I can’t look after our children. He makes me look like a dead-beat mother, one that is incapable of keeping them alive for a few hours.
“Don’t…” He doesn’t finish, instead, he sighs and shakes his head. “I will be back soon,” he says, pressing his lips to my forehead.
I know he can feel the rage bubbling up in me. That is the reason why Mateo stops at the entryway, but Marge waves him off, completely oblivious that there will be hell to pay when he gets home.
I continue folding, ignoring how much his words hurt me. I am seething.
After a while, I get up. I am becoming too riled up, and I don’t understand why it bothers me this much, but it makes my blood boil within my veins.
“You alright, love?” Marge asks, looking at me. The poor woman looks worried, so I try to keep myself in check.
“Yeah, I am about to make coffee. Do you want one?” I ask.
It’s not her who my anger is directed at. She doesn’t bear any blame for this. Even if she said anything, I still wouldn’t be angry at her.
“Sure, I can help you get the little ones to bed if you like. I can save you from walking up the stairs twice,” she offers. I nod and head straight to the kitchen.
As I make coffee for both of us, I try to focus my attention on Mateo and Ezra to feel out how they are doing. Yet when lust hits me through the bond, a growl of pure annoyance escapes me.
Usually, it doesn’t bother me that they are busy fucking. For the most part it doesn’t, and never has, but I somehow feel betrayed by it. I know those two are as much mates to each other as they are to me.
I am honestly too pissed off to see anything, but hurt and betrayal right now. Although I understand that what I feel might be irrational, childish even, I can’t stop myself from feeling it. Those feelings, in turn, do nothing but add more fuel to my anger.
I grab the coffees off the bench, trying to distract myself from my bleeding anger. The fact it is a full moon the other night isn’t helping my case either.
I haven’t shifted in months, and the passing phases of the moon always affect me oddly.
This time it is becoming too much. Everything weighs down on me heavier with each damn day passing by. Sometimes I feel as if the world keeps adding more to my shoulders just to check how long it will take until I snap and lose it.
And then, Mateo has the damn gall to ask Marge to babysit me like I am a fucking child that needs someone to remain at their side at all costs? Who does he think he is? Would Mateo enjoy himself as I enjoy myself now, if I did the same stupid thing to him?
Would he feel proud of me, if I made him look like a no good father?
“You sure you are alright, love? You have been quiet this afternoon. Are you hungry? I can heat up the leftovers from last night for you.” Marge offers, pulling me back to reality.
I don’t show it, but a part of me is so darn irritated. The other part is happy she spoke up, because if I keep letting my thoughts run wild like that, there is no saying how I might react once those two horndogs come back home.
“No, I am fine.” Although I remind myself I need to keep my emotions in check, as I speak, my tone is a little harsher than I intend it to be.
Marge nods, takes the cup from my hands and gives me an odd look. Great, there it is, yet another reason to feel shittier than I already do.
I sit down to wallow in anger and self-pity. I desperately need to regain control of my emotions.
To be fair, my emotions have always been wild and feral, but usually, I only need to be close to one of my mates to control them. Their scents soothe and calm the monster I can become but not right now. It is festering with no outlet.
Marge places her mug on the coffee table, gets up and reaches for Marabella.
My eyes dart to her movement and widen as I realize what she is about to do. “I will take her, you take Eziah,” I suggest.
My heart skips a beat as I notice that one of Marabella’s mittens has fallen off. Luckily, Marge nods and scoops Eziah out of his rocker, letting me take over with my daughter. I glance at my son in her arms as Marge mimics the movement of the rocker, so he doesn’t wake.
I do the same with Marabella and follow her up to the room. I tell her about the creaky step, but she steps right over it, taking the next. In fact, her feet are missing all the creaks on the old floors, and my brows pinch together.
“Marge, has Mateo asked you to help me before?” I question.
I try to stay quiet not to wake the kids, but I can’t stop myself from being curious. The way she moves over every obstacle in her way makes me think this isn’t her first rodeo here.