The morning sunlight filtered through the cottage windows as Willow watched Evan play with his wooden blocks on the floor.
Dorian sat beside him, helping stack them into a tower with both of them laughing when it inevitably tumbled down.
She had been gathering her courage for days now, knowing what needed to be said.
"Evan," She called softly, moving to sit cross-legged on the floor with them. "There's something important we need to tell you."
The boy looked up with those striking eyes that were so much like his father's. At nearly four years old, he was perceptive beyond his years.
"Is it about why Dorian smells like me?" Evan asked innocently, causing both adults to exchange surprised glances.
Dorian cleared his throat, his usually confident demeanor wavering slightly. "What do you mean, little one?"
