"Want to build a fort?" Rory asks her, his hazel eyes bright with excitement.
Lily nods shyly, clutching her elephant. "Can Mr. Elephant help?"
"Definitely," Corey says seriously. "Every good fort needs an elephant."
I watch them disappear into the trees, my heart swelling. Blake moves beside me, his arm brushing mine, and the contact sends electricity through my body.
"They're good together," he observes. "All of them."
"Yeah." I lean into him slightly. "They are."
Jack and Noah are unloading supplies, their muscles flexing as they carry coolers and bags. I can't help but admire the way Jack's henley stretches across his shoulders, or how Noah's forearms look in his rolled-up sleeves. Both men catch me looking and exchange knowing glances.
"See something you like?" Noah asks, his green eyes twinkling behind his glasses.
Heat floods my cheeks. "Maybe."
Blake laughs, the sound warm and genuine. "We're in trouble, guys. She's got that look."
"What look?" I demand, trying to sound indignant but failing.
"The one that says we're not getting much sleep tonight," Jack says, his voice dropping to that authoritative tone that makes my core clench.
The afternoon passes in a blur of activity. We hike a nearby trail, the children racing ahead while the adults follow at a more leisurely pace. Blake points out different trees and plants, his coaching instincts kicking in as he turns everything into a learning opportunity. Noah shares historical facts about the area, making even Ethan's eyes light up with interest. Jack keeps a protective eye on everyone, his natural leadership ensuring no one gets too far ahead or left behind.
"This was a great idea," Blake says, falling into step beside me. His hand finds mine, our fingers intertwining naturally. "You needed this. We all did."
"I just wanted to feel normal for a little while," I admit. "No Marcus, no mysterious stalkers, no parent complaints or school board investigations."
"You are normal," Noah says from my other side, his hand settling on the small of my back. "What we have might be unconventional, but it's real. That's what matters."
Jack leads us back to the cabins as the sun starts to set. We build a fire in the pit and roast hot dogs while the children run wild, their laughter echoing through the trees. Maya teaches the younger ones a complicated hand-clapping game while Rory and Corey show Lily how to make the perfect s'more.
"Not too much marshmallow," Corey instructs seriously. "You need the right chocolate-to-marshmallow ratio."
"He's very particular about his s'mores," I explain to Blake, who's grinning at my son's intensity.
"Reminds me of someone else I know," Blake says, his brown eyes warm as they meet mine. "Someone who color-codes her lesson plans and alphabetizes her bookshelf."
"Organization is important," I defend, but I'm smiling.
As darkness falls, the children's energy finally wanes. We herd them into one of the cabins where sleeping bags are spread across the floor like a massive slumber party. Maya volunteers to be in charge, her eight-year-old sense of responsibility endearing.
"I'll keep the baby monitor on," she promises, holding up the device like a badge of honor. "If anyone needs anything, I'll call you."
"You're amazing, Maya," I tell her, kissing the top of her head.
"I know," she says matter-of-factly, making all the adults laugh.
We tuck each child in, distributing goodnight kisses and reassurances. Lily clutches her elephant and asks Blake to check the windows.
"No monsters?" she whispers.
"No monsters," Blake confirms, his voice gentle. "Just trees and stars and your family keeping you safe."
The word "family" settles over all of us like a warm blanket. That's what we've become, I realize. A complicated, but beautiful family.
Once the children are settled and the baby monitor is secured, the four of us retreat to the master cabin. The tension that's been building all day finally has space to breathe. Jack closes the door behind us and the atmosphere shifts immediately.