When I stepped back out, Owen had moved closer to Elle.
She had one hand on his shoulder.
Trying to be the older one.
Trying to hold it together.
I crouched down in front of them, opening my arms and biting my lips so hard I must have swallowed blood to keep myself from crying.
And that was all it took.
They broke.
Both of them.
They threw themselves into my arms so fast it almost knocked me backward and I wrapped around them instinctively, pulling them into my chest, breathing them in like oxygen.
They smelled like forest dirt, cold night air, tears and mud. But there was still the faint sweet scent of their mother clinging onto them.
“Hey,” I murmured quietly, pressing my face into Owen’s hair.
My voice was shaking and I hated it.
“She’s strong,” I said, forcing the words out
