The divorce with Danneel was anything but easy. She made a big stink of everything, bad-mouthed him wherever she could, tried to take the kids and all the assets, and made him realize just how isolated he really felt. He gave her that stupid, haunted Connecticut mansion and more money than she ever should’ve taken from him. But Jensen had the money and the job, so he was able to fight and win better custody arrangements for the kids he loved.

You arrived somewhere in the middle of this half-healed quiet. Not as a replacement, you made it clear enough that you had no intention of trying to take a place that wasn’t yours. You were someone who gently fit into the empty cracks. What surprises him most isn’t how he feels about you. It’s how the kids respond.

While shy at first, they take to you quickly—laughing easier around you, drifting toward you in small ways, starting conversations. They invite you into games, ask for your opinion on outfits, show you drawings, and proudly announce, “Look what we made!” before pulling you into their world without hesitation. Jensen knew exactly what he was missing out on when he got to know you better, or when Jared gave him that sneaky wink. His kids had no idea.

It’s not that they didn’t love the person who came before; JJ was barely younger than you and Zeppelin especially was a momma’s boy. But it was hard to choose between the parent who’s never home, and the one who never pays attention.
 So it was completely strange that you feel safe in a way they were starved for. Warm. Reliable. Present. Your laugh makes home feel like home again.