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“Can you tell me where your room is?” I ask Maddox without letting Tucker get another word in.

That’s definitely rude, but I’m putting on a show here, man. He has to let me cook.

Maddox nods and points to the stairs.

“Up there.”

I start walking right away, but do turn toward the others once we’re two steps up the steep stairs.

“Come on, guys, we’re going on a rescue mission!”

With a few more theatrics thrown in, it’s only two minutes later when I put Maddox down next to Mason’s bed and then we both bend down to look under it.

And there it is.

“Thank you, Fanta,” I tell the elephant very seriously before handing him over for good, then turn to give the toy to Mason.

There’s the expected tears, and the shock on Tucker’s face that looks so genuine a laugh finally bursts out of me.

The guy might actually think I’m Mary Poppins or some shit—which I don’t blame him for, but it’s still funny as hell.

“All right, now we’re going to get ready for daycare. You two want to choose what you’re wearing, or do you want Tucker and me to choose?”

“We choose,” Maddox shouts and sprints to their walk-in closet.

Because of course the three-year-old twins have a walk-in closet in the room at their brother’s house.

Of course.

“What the fuck,” Tucker whispers when the boys are out of earshot, and gets a snort from me.

I smirk over at him quickly before grabbing the two stuffed animals and positioning them at the center of each bed.

“You have to tell me how you did that,” Tucker says with some urgency.

“Later,” I whisper back. “I’m guessing you guys haven’t had breakfast yet?” Tucker shakes his head, still looking bewildered. “I’ll make sure they’re dressed for the day. You go maybe call off the hunt downstairs,” I mention, thinking of the big dude who’s probably tearing a living room apart.

“Oh, shit,” he hisses and turns around faster than I thought a man his size could.

I call out before he can disappear.

“Do I need to pack stuff for their football practice later, or will we come back here before that?”

“We’ll come back,” Tucker says, nodding earnestly before sighing with another shake of his head. “Thank you.”

He means that so much, I can tell, and it helps.

It helps keep my mind quiet of doubts and bad memories more than I thought anything would today.

Wes—the big guy who was on a hunt before—turns out to be Tucker’s bodyguard, and he introduces me to Johnny, the boys’ bodyguard, when we all step out of the house to finally go drop them off.

Tucker, for his part, introduced me to Angelo, the house’s chef—his words—and the gruff man only grunted at me before asking me what I wanted to have for breakfast and whether I have any allergies.

All in all, the most normal part of the morning was me pretending I could hear a stuffed elephant’s thoughts.

Though the boys are much calmer after I splashed some water on my face along with them and after we made a deal to leave Fanta and Ottie at home every day so we could be sure they were there waiting for them, the day only gets weirder after they run off to the playroom of the daycare and leave Tucker and me standing by the reception with a kind-looking woman.

“I’m Helen,” she introduces herself to me and offers me a hand to shake.