Paige's POV
For the first time in days, the clubhouse felt like a home instead of a place where everyone was waiting for the next threat.
Emma had decided that we needed a family dinner, and Sophia had agreed before anyone else could object, so by late afternoon the kitchen was already filled with the sounds of chopping vegetables, pots clattering against counters, and children running through the hallways.
I stood at the kitchen island with a knife in my hand while Emma watched me struggle with a pile of potatoes.
“You're holding that knife like it personally offended you.” She said as I glanced at her.
“I own a motorcycle garage, not a restaurant.” I said.
“You can rebuild an engine, but potatoes are defeating you?” She asked.
“The engine doesn't make me cry when I cut it.” I said
