Chapter 32
Thirty-Two
FRANCINE
The weight of Nora’s tiny self pressed against my side is comforting as we watch the animated characters dance across the TV screen. My casts make me feel like a mummy, stiff and immobile, but I’m trying not to freak out.
Nora has wrapped her right foot in toilet paper to match my cast, limping dramatically around the room earlier as if we’re injury twins. It’s been a week, and she still hasn’t gotten tired of mimicking me.
The popcorn bowl sits between us, and even though reaching for it sends painful twinges through my ribcage, I wouldn’t trade this moment for anything.
“Franny,” Nora whispers, her eyes wide with childish conspiracy, “when we’re better, can we go to the skating rink together?”
I smile down at her, at those bouncy curls and bright eyes that have become my daily sunshine during this bizarre chapter of my life. “Of course we can, sweetheart. As soon as the doctor says my bones are all fixed up.”
She nods solemnly, her eight-year-old face suddenly serious. “It’s gonna take a long time, Elias told me. Broken bones take weeks and weeks to heal.”
“Well, aren’t you the smart one?” I ruffle her hair with my least-damaged hand, the one with just a wrist fracture rather than the full arm cast. “But you’re right. It does take time.”
“That’s okay,” she declares, snuggling closer. “I’ll take care of you. Kieran said I can help.”
I swallow hard at the mention of her brother.
For the past week, Kieran has been my shadow, my caretaker, my silent nursemaid, taking on the brunt of the duties. And I’ve been his equally silent patient, accepting his help with as little interaction as possible. It’s been a strange, tense dance between us.
Nora shifts beside me, adjusting the makeshift cast on her foot.
She’s been wearing it all day, insisting that she needs it to “match Franny.” It’s adorable and heartbreaking and somehow makes me think about the tiny life growing inside me.
Will my baby be like her? Empathetic and sweet, with a wild imagination and a heart too big for her little chest?
My hand drifts to my stomach automatically.
Two weeks along now, if my calculations are right.
Too early to show, too early to feel anything, but knowing it’s there changes everything.
I picture myself sitting just like this someday, but with my own child cuddled against me. My heart warms at the thought.
“Nora, your cast is slipping,” I point out, and she huffs dramatically, rewrapping the toilet paper around her perfectly healthy ankle.
“It’s hard to be broken,” she sighs, and I laugh despite the ache in my ribs.
“You have no idea, kiddo.”
The door opens, and Kieran fills the frame like he always does.
My breath catches as our eyes meet briefly before I look away. He’s dressed casually in a black t-shirt and jeans, but somehow still manages to look like he stepped off the cover of some alpha fitness magazine. It’s irritating how good he looks when I feel like absolute garbage.
“Is she bothering you?” he asks, his deep voice sending unwanted shivers down my spine. “Nora, I told you Francine needs rest.”
“She’s not bothering me at all,” I say quickly, protectively wrapping my good arm around the little girl’s shoulders. “We’re having a grand time watching the movie. Right, Nora?”
Nora nods enthusiastically, sending her curls bouncing.
“We’re both broken, see?” She points proudly to her toilet paper cast. “And we’re eating popcorn and planning to go skating when we’re all better.”
A ghost of a smile crosses Kieran’s face, there and gone so quickly I almost miss it. “That’s good, but it’s time for me to change Francine’s bandages. You need to run along and play outside for a bit.”
Nora’s face falls instantly. She looks down at her fake cast, then up at her brother with wide, pleading eyes. “But I can’t walk, Kier! I’m injured too!”
I bite my lip to keep from laughing, but a small snort escapes anyway. Kieran’s eyes flick to mine, and for a brief moment, we share a look of amusement over his sister’s antics. It feels dangerously close to normal, to how we were before everything shattered.
“Nora,” Kieran says, his voice stern but kind, “I know for a fact that you were doing cartwheels in the backyard an hour ago. Your injury seems to be miraculously selective.”
“But…”
“I’ll call you back once I make sure Francine isn’t in pain,” he interrupts, his tone making it clear this isn’t a negotiation. “You can continue your movie date afterward.”
Nora huffs loudly, her whole body sagging with disappointment. But she obediently unwraps her foot and slides off the bed. “Fine. But I’m coming right back as soon as you call me.”
“Of course you are,” Kieran says, stepping aside to let her pass.
“Don’t start the next movie without me!” she calls as she stomps toward the door, her footsteps sharp and deliberate, making sure we know exactly how unhappy she is.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I call after her, wincing as the movement pulls at my sore ribs.
The door clicks shut behind her, and suddenly the room feels too small, too intimate. Kieran and I, alone.
“It’s time for your pain medication too,” Kieran says softly, moving to the bedside table where there’s an array of pill bottles. “The doctor said to keep ahead of the pain rather than waiting for it to get bad.”
I nod stiffly, not trusting myself to speak. This is how it’s been since I arrived—Kieran talking at me, explaining what he’s doing, and me responding with nods or one-word answers. The absolute minimum required to get through each day.
He opens a white plastic bottle and shakes out two pills, then reaches for the water glass he brought in.
I watch his hands. I’m always mesmerized by those large, strong hands that have been so gentle with my broken body.
The same hands that packed my suitcase and closed my car door when he told me to leave.
The contradiction makes my head hurt worse than my injuries.
“Here,” he says, holding out the pills and water.
I take them silently, swallowing them down under his watchful gaze. His eyes are dark, intense, never leaving my face. It makes me squirm, feeling naked under that stare despite being fully clothed in soft pajamas.
“Thanks.”
“I need to check your bandages now,” he says after I’ve drained the glass. “Can you sit up a bit more?”
I push myself up with my good arm, gritting my teeth against the stab of pain that shoots through my ribs. Kieran’s hands are immediately there, supporting my back, helping me lean forward. The heat of his palms seeps through the thin fabric of my pajama top, leaving scorching imprints on my skin.
He nods, his jaw tight as he carefully lifts the hem of my shirt. “Tell me if it hurts.”
The bandages around my ribs need to be changed daily to prevent infection where the bones broke through the skin. It’s a humiliating process, being so helpless, so dependent. But Kieran has never once made me feel embarrassed. His clinical efficiency almost makes it bearable.
Almost.
I hiss as the adhesive pulls at my tender skin. Kieran freezes instantly.
“Sorry,” he whispers. “I’m trying to be gentle.”
“I know. It’s okay.”
The silence between us grows heavier with each passing second. Kieran works methodically, cleaning the wound, applying fresh ointment, and wrapping a new bandage around my torso. His hands seem to linger longer than necessary, his breath warm against my neck as he leans close to secure the tape.
When he finally sits back, his eyes meet mine, and the raw emotion I see there makes my breath catch. Grief. Regret. Longing.
“Why are you doing this?” I blurt out, unable to contain the question any longer. “Why not let Drake or Rowan or Elias take care of me? Or my sisters?”
Kieran stills, his hands resting on his thighs. “Is that what you want? Would you prefer someone else?”
It’s not what I expected him to say, and it throws me off balance. “I... that’s not the point. I’m asking why you’re sleeping outside my door. Why are you changing my bandages, giving me medication, and helping me to the bathroom?”
“If you want someone else…”
“That’s not what I want!” The words explode from me, sharp and jagged.
“What I want is to understand why you’re doing this after you threw me out of your house and your life!
You made it very clear how you felt about me, about my connection to your parents’ death.
And now you’re caring for me like none of that ever happened? ”
Kieran takes my outburst without flinching, his face carefully blank. But his blue eyes are full of pain.
“I had no right to reject you the way I did,” he says quietly. “No right to punish you for something you had no part in.”
“You think?” I laugh bitterly, feeling tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. “You knotted me, Kieran. You told me I was yours, that you would take care of me forever. If I were really your true omega, you’d never throw me out like that.”
He flinches now, his hands clenching into fists on his thighs. “I know.”
“Do you have any idea what that felt like? To be rejected not just as your omega but as a person? Because of what my mother did?” The tears are falling freely now, hot tracks down my cheeks.
“I take full responsibility for my actions,” he says, each word precise and heavy with regret. “There’s no excuse for how I treated you. None.”
“Then why are you here? Why are you doing all this?”
Kieran reaches out slowly, telegraphing his movement as if approaching a wounded animal. His thumb gently wipes away a tear from my cheek. “Because I will always love you and take care of you, even if you decide to leave me at the end. Nothing will change that.”
I stare at him, searching his face for any sign of deception. “Love me? You don’t even know me.”
“I know enough,” he says, getting upset now. “I know how you are with Nora. You’re a gentle soul but also fiercely protective of her. I know how your scent makes my wolf howl with recognition. I knew from the moment I scented you that you were ours.”
“Then why…?”
“Because I was afraid,” he admits, his voice dropping to barely above a whisper. “I was afraid that loving you meant betraying my parents’ memory somehow.”
“Oh,” I say, my heart sinking with sadness for him. That makes sense, in a way.
“I couldn’t stop thinking about what I’d done. How wrong I was. I went to your apartment to apologize, before the accident.”
“You came to my apartment?”
“Yes, I needed to make things right. But you weren’t there.” He pauses, his eyes searching mine. “I saw the pregnancy test on your bathroom counter.”
The room seems to tilt sideways as his words sink in. He knows. He’s known this whole time that I’m pregnant with his pack’s baby.
“You knew?” I whisper, feeling exposed, vulnerable. “This whole time, you knew I was pregnant?”
Kieran nods slowly. “I did. And I’ve been trying to find a way to tell you that I know, so we can talk about it, but you’ve barely spoken to me since the accident.”
I turn away, unable to look at him. Everything makes horrible sense now. His insistence on caring for me. His constant presence. His declarations of love. It’s not about me at all. It’s about the baby.
“I need a minute,” I choke out, feeling trapped, cornered.
Kieran rises immediately. “Of course. I’ll go. For what it’s worth, Francine, I wanted you to come back to me as my omega before I knew about the baby.”
The door clicks shut behind him, and I’m alone with the revelation that’s turned my world upside down yet again. I press my hand to my stomach, tears blurring my vision.
I’m trapped now. Trapped by my broken body, by my pregnancy, by Kieran’s sudden change of heart. He’ll never let me go now that he knows I’m carrying his pack’s child. He’ll say all the right words, make all the right promises, but always, always, it will be about the baby. Not about me.
The pack house, once a dream come true, now feels like a gilded prison.
I know the truth now. It’s not me he wants. It’s his pup.