Can you die of a broken heart? For a Wolf, the answer is yes. Can what's broken be mended? That depends.
It's been a year since his mate's betrayal, and Martin lives for one thing: his kids. As a single dad, he devotes himself to ensuring his child...
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"Flora! Nico! Rio! Miguel! Hurry up — it's time to go!"
I pack four lunches into matching bags as the kids scramble through their morning routine. As usual, Flora finishes first and arrives downstairs with her favorite butterfly clips pinning her fluffy curls in place and a backpack full of books on her shoulder.
"You got your homework?" I ask.
She rolls her eyes at me. "Of course. The others have theirs, too. I checked."
Dropping her backpack by the door, she sits at the table and serves herself scrambled eggs and toast while I pour her a glass of juice.
"Nico got a math problem wrong, but I helped him fix it," she says. "And Miguel made a bunch of spelling mistakes, but he wrote in pencil, so they erased."
"You know if you do their work for them, they won't learn," I say.
"I don't do it for them." She rolls her eyes again. "I just show them how to do it right."
I hide a smile. At eleven, Flora is brilliant, motivated, and a little bossy. She's my right-hand girl and helps me keep her three brothers in check.
Miguel arrives next, plopping into the chair next to his twin sister with a sleepy mumble that sounds almost like 'Good morning, Dad.'
"Morning, sweetheart," I say, ruffling his messy curls as I set a glass of juice in front of him. Miguel is his sister's opposite — shy and quiet, and happiest when he's alone with his sketchbook. "Ready for school?"
I interpret the monosyllabic sound he makes as a 'yes.'
The younger set of twins arrive in a rush of running feet and joyful shrieks as Rio chases Nico with a toy snake. I catch Nico just before he crashes into the table and pluck the rubber snake from Rio's grasp.
"Breakfast, boys," I say sternly. "And the snake stays here. I do not need another mid-morning call from your teacher."
"Yes, Daddy," they say in chorus, and sit down to serve themselves.
My heart warms as they wolf down their simple meal, and I breathe in a sense of gratitude just to have them all safe and happy in one place.
When they finish eating, they rise and carry their plates to the sink. Flora hesitates before placing hers in the soapy water.
"Did you have breakfast, Dad?" she asks.
"Not yet. I'll eat in a bit."
She eyes me solemnly. "Okay. Make sure you do. Nutrition is important, you know."
"Yes, ma'am." I smile, teasing her a little.
Flora is observant for her age — a little too much so, sometimes — and smart as a whip, just like her mother. Fortunately, she's also kind and caring — not like her mother at all.
