36. Simon
Since the moment Isobel asked me to become part of her and Quin’s family, a cavern inside of me has filled, becoming smaller and smaller with each passing moment. Her love and acceptance feel different than the emotions shown to me by my bond mates, and I would rather cut one—or even all—of my limbs off than betray the trust she has bestowed on me.
I spend most of my days working around the sanctuary, and I’ve come to know Josiah quite well. He’s taken me under his wing, not only by turning up with bags of clothes and a brand-new—if basic—cell phone, but also checking in with me every day. Dane and Dillon are still a bit stand-offish, but I can’t really blame them for that. They’re just looking out for their sister and their nibling, and it will take them time to come to realize I’m not a threat.
I love her too much to hurt her.
Isobel is both my penance and my salvation. I love her not only because she is my blood brother’s fated mate, but because she is a wonderful, kind, loving, and genuine person, both inside and out. She knows her own mind, is as smart as a whip, and can have me in stitches with her dry wit and wicked sense of humor. I know I can talk to her and she’ll not only listen but will give me food for thought without belittling or being condescending toward me.
Tálstrom is beyond smitten. He’s decided that Isobel is it for us, and nothing I do or say will change that. After all, with true bonds the animal decides.
I honestly never imagined that Tál would ever find someone he’d want to mate with. What with the way I rejected Sila and the subsequent fallout, the thought of a second chance never even crossed my mind. But if the gods ever decided to show me grace and mercy, then Isobel would be my choice as well.
Tálstrom is completely devoted to Isobel’s happiness, and I know his mind is as made up as my own. We will never seek out another mate because we are content being left on the fringes of her life. We are her and her cub’s protectors, and I cannot imagine undertaking the role of partner to anyone but her.
Not that we will ever attain that wish, but that is our penance.
I lost any right to a mate when I rejected Sila, so to have the one person I have fallen in love with be beyond my reach is everything that I deserve.
I finish my chores, having taken over the care of Deedee from Josiah. It’s necessary because that cat is in heat and will corner him until he mates with her if he steps foot inside her pen. Isobel is too close to her due date to be dealing with the horny cat, so it’s up to me. It helps that Deedee is wary and respectful of me, as the one time she tried anything, Tál ripped out of me and tore strips off her. Since then, all I need to do is rumble a growl in my chest and she bares her throat.
The sun is edging toward the horizon as I stomp over the wooden decking, dislodging the lingering stones and dirt from my boots as I approach the back door to the house Isobel and I share.
A sweet scent wafts through the air, and it catches my attention because it’s not one I’m familiar with. I absentmindedly reach out and open the door, only for my empty arms to suddenly be filled with a frantic Isobel.
“Hey, what’s the ma—” I break off, that sweet perfume coming from the woman in my arms. It’s soon overshadowed by the sour burn of her pain and panic, and I check over her, desperate to find and stop whatever is hurting her.
“Simon,” Isobel gasps, “I need you to take me to the hospital. The baby has decided that it’s time to meet everyone and doesn’t want to hang around or wait for Da to arrive with Mama!”
I freeze.
“Simon! Get your heiny moving. I need you to take me to the hospital, NOW!”
Isobel’s verbal slap knocks me out of my stupor. Galvanized, I gently move her to one side as I rush inside, tearing my muddy and mucky shirt from my torso as I storm into the room provided for me. I kick off my boots and remove my jeans, reaching for a clean pair from the dresser just inside the door.
As I pull the denim over my hips and fasten the fly, Isobel appears in my doorway. Her face is a picture of astonishment, and I just know what she’s about to ask me before she even opens her mouth.
“Isobel, I was covered in blood, mud, sweat, and other filth. If I’m taking you to the hospital, like hell am I doing it covered in muck that could make you or the baby sick. Now, do you have everything in your go-bag? I know you wanted to wait until the last minute to pick out the baby clothes you wanted to take with you. Have you got them all? What about your hairbrush and other toiletries?”
Isobel blinks and then disappears from view, the patter of her feet on the hardwood floor heading in the direction of her room. I hadn’t seen her bag at her feet, and now thanks to my reminder she’s gone to collect it and check if everything’s where it should be. My diversionary tactics have worked, and I use the extra minute or so to quickly scrub down my arms and torso in the bathroom. I’ll do a more thorough job once we get to the hospital if needs be, but at least now I’m more presentable, and less offensive to the nose.
A gray t-shirt covers the tattoo on my chest, with a blue-check flannel over the top of that. I shrug on a black hooded jacket last of all, then shove my feet back into my boots. The thud of my footsteps echo as I stride back down the hallway and into the kitchen to find Isobel dithering over two different tubes of body lotion. I take the decision out of her hands, sweeping them both into her bag, along with the collection of chap-sticks littered across the counter.
“Okay, have you got everything? Toothbrush? Deodorant? Shampoo and conditioner? What about clothes? Chargers?”
Isobel bites down on her lower lip and nods hesitantly. I grab a towel from the pile of washing sitting on top of the table and sling it over my shoulder. Taking hold of the straps of her go-bag, I gently usher Isobel outside and to the waiting truck.
I settle Isobel into the passenger seat, making sure she’s sitting on the folded towel before I dash back around the truck to the driver’s seat. I’m careful as I steer the vehicle down the drive, avoiding the more obvious bumps and potholes to keep the journey as smooth as possible. The moment we hit the blacktop, I put the pedal to the metal and head straight toward Alexandria.
***
I fully expect to be told to stay in the waiting room with the rest of the menfolk, and that only Isobel’s mother, Patrice, will accompany her to the delivery room. Boy, am I wrong.
Isobel reaches back over her shoulder to clutch at my hand as I push the wheelchair she’s been placed in down the hallway. The moment I try to leave her alone, it’s like she becomes part-octopus, grasping and grabbing at me all while the nurse is trying to get her to breathe.
“Don’t leave me!” she cries out, and the fear and desperation in her eyes has me pausing. Tál surges forward enough that I stumble, and makes his preference known to me by the rattling growl that rolls around in my mind.
I squeeze the hand gripping mine in an attempt to reassure her.
“It’s alright, Isobel. I’m here with you, and I’ll stay by your side for as long as I’m allowed. Now, why don’t you concentrate on the important job of becoming a mom, and I’ll do whatever you or the nurses tell me to, okay?”
I follow the nurse into a room all kitted out for expectant mothers. The walls are mostly a creamy white color, with the exception of the one opposite the door. It’s painted in a soothing green, and there are soft yellow accents dotted around the space. I wheel Isobel over to the oversize bed in the middle of the room, noting the plethora of furniture and equipment ready and waiting for use. There’s a small inflatable pool ready for a possible water birth set up in the corner of the room, next to a large yoga ball on a stand. In another corner is a crescent-shaped stool with a low back set under some sort of cloth sling, with another larger chair situated behind them both. Underneath the window is a squarish recliner, a rocking chair, and a bean bag chair. Waiting just inside the door is an empty crib on wheels, and a cabinet of sorts that looks as though it will double as a change table. There’s no bathroom, but that’s probably because Isobel will be moved once she delivers the baby.
“Hello there, Mom-to-be! Why don’t we get you settled in, and Dad here can deal with the paperwork and the rest of the not-so-fun stuff.”
I freeze at the nurse’s words, my eyes wide and staring at her in astonishment. My gaze darts across to Isobel’s shocked face, and part of me is relieved when she stammers out, “Oh, he’s not the father. He’s my best friend and the baby’s godfather and is here as support.”
The nurse doesn’t even bat an eyelid at Isobel’s declaration, and I’m sure she’s heard so many excuses in her tenure at the hospital that ours doesn’t even rate.
I feel absolutely useless as we get Isobel settled, superfluous in my inability to help. I feel so uneasy that I leave the room so she can get changed and head down to the waiting room where the rest of her family sits. Her brothers practically fly from their chairs at my approach, while her parents and grandfather just stand and wait.
“How is she? Has she had the baby already?”
“That was fast! Can we come back and see her yet?”
Patrice steps forward and in between her sons, reaching up to slap them up the back of their heads.
“You two are a pair of ninnies. Bella’s barely been here for five minutes; she won’t have squeezed that baby out so quickly. Use your brains for something other than plotting how you’re going to murder Quin, and where you’ll dispose of his body.”
The woman is a tiny powerhouse, and I can see where Isobel gets the chutzpah to deal with her overbearing brothers. Patrice is slightly shorter than Isobel’s five foot something, and her red hair is liberally streaked with gray. She shares her daughter’s pale skin and freckles, although Patrice’s eyes are blue rather than hazel green. Wrinkles line her face, but they’re the kind a person develops during a life filled with laughter, rather than hardship.
She makes me miss my own mom.
“Simon, how is she? Have they got her all settled in yet?”
I nod silently in answer to Patrice’s query, my hands fidgeting as I wilt under her scrutiny.
“She’s just getting changed now. I thought I’d bring you to the room, because I don’t know how much help I’ll be. She needs to be surrounded by calm and competence, and I’m neither right now. Will you come?”
Patrice pats me on the shoulder reassuringly, then gestures for me to lead the way. When two sets of heavy footsteps fall behind us, she whips around and simply stares down her sons.
I swear to the gods, this woman is a one-person brute squad. She even gives Tálstrom the willies at times.
Patrice chatters in my ear as I lead her back to Isobel’s room, and I’m relieved to see my friend seated on the yoga ball, bouncing away as she breathes through a contraction. Once she’s done, Isobel opens her eyes, grinning when she sees her mother on my arm.
“Mama! The midwife says that I’m dilating pretty darn quick, and that I might have my baby in my arms by the time they’ve done the dinner rounds!”
I check the clock. It’s just past three in the afternoon, and my guess is that the staff will be bringing dinner around the ward sometime between six and seven. The midwife thinks Isobel will be done in three hours? I thought childbirth could take days, not hours.
“Well, you know that the only reason I had you at the hospital was because I was already there for a check-up when you decided to make an appearance. I pushed Dillon out on the side of the road, and I never even made it to the car for Dane.” Patrice turns to me, chuckling as she notes the horrified expression on my face.
“My side of the family is infamous for having extremely short labors, Simon. I have a feeling that my mother is going to poke fun at my Bella for being so slow compared to the rest of us. It’s Dave’s side of the family who like to take their time having babies.”
I gulp.
“Well, my girl, I can see you’re in good hands here. Did you need me to stick around, or do you want me to go back and keep your brothers in check? Your Da and Paw Paw know better, but those two big lugs are panicking worse than many first-time fathers, and they’re not even partially responsible for the life you’re bringing forth.”
Isobel shifts on top of the ball, and I step up to her side and offer her my hand. She takes it and squeezes. I can feel my bones bending and grinding together at the force of her grip, and I make use of the breathing techniques I’ve been researching in preparation for today. I breathe through the pain, just as Isobel is doing on top of the ball. After what feels like an eternity, but is probably only about a minute or less, she lets go. I try to be discreet as I flex my hand, stretching out the squashed muscles and tendons before she can crush them once more.
“Yeah, head on out, Mama. Simon’s promised to stay by my side, and I’m hoping that he can help me share the experience with Quin. After all, we both of us have a special bond with him, and if he can’t be here with me to experience his cub’s birth himself, I want the next best thing.”
Patrice’s eyes swim with emotion as she gives both Isobel and me a tight hug, then quickly exits the room.
I still have no idea what I’m doing, but after hearing Isobel’s words? There’s only one force on earth that could get me to leave her side, and that is if Quin comes and takes my place.