** Paige’s POV **

Light spills through the kitchen window, the smell of fresh coffee in the air. Poppy’s still sitting at the counter, a second cup of coffee cradled in her hands. Jaxon’s curled against me, finally wide awake and humming to himself as he plays with the edge of his blanket.

My gaze drifts down to the blanket in his lap. The wool is thick, the pattern uneven and mismatched in a way that makes me think it was made with love rather than skill. I run a hand over it. It’s ...