Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Morris
W e spend another night in the hospital, but the next morning Arbor’s doctor comes in, and the little omega asks to be released as soon as possible.
Due to the circumstances of Gracie’s delivery, the doctor holds firm, no matter how much Arbor protests. She wants to keep Arbor the full forty-eight hours after delivery—or in this case, admission to the hospital. Since they don’t release patients in the middle of the night, that would allow her to leave tomorrow morning at the earliest.
Hayes and Hael went home to shower, clean up the living room, and retrieve the car seat, since Arbor was convinced she would be leaving today. They were also supposed to head by the pharmacy to pick up the massive amount of items Arbor needs for postnatal care.
Once her doctor heads out, the pediatrician comes in to check Gracie over. Thankfully, everything looks great with the baby.
However, I’m left with a very pouty omega on my hands. The baby is resting comfortably in her cart, so I head over to the hospital bed.
Arbor looks up at me, uncrosses her arms, and scoots over to make space. “How much do you think an extra night in the hospital is going to cost with no insurance?”
Kicking off my shoes, I climb onto the bed next to her.
“Not much when compared to ensuring you’re safe and healthy following a major medical event.” I stretch my arm over the back of the bed, and she slides over until her head rests on my shoulder.
“You’re right about that. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. I’m just starting to panic about what all of this is going to cost.” Her lower lip worries between her teeth, and I ache to pull it free and plant a tender kiss on those perfect lips of hers.
“I understand that, but some things are out of our control.” I thought Hael talked to her about the insurance thing, so he must have left out the part about the hospital bill also being sent to our house.
Between the three of us, we can cover it based on what we have in savings, but that won’t leave much of a safety net if something needs fixed at the gym, the shop, or our house.
Still, we’ll manage.
I’m not overly religious, and at the same time I am spiritual on some level. Something put Arbor in our path for a reason. I won’t say I’m great at interpreting signs, but this one seems clear as day.
Arbor needed us as much as we needed her and Gracie.
Hayes has been lost and drifting since I met him.
Hael wasn’t in much better shape after losing his mentor.
And me?
I’m so tired of being lonely.
I’ve always wanted a family, and I’m not afraid of hard work or commitment. Arbor needs someone she can trust and rely on. Alphas she’s safe around.
It might be fast by the rest of the world’s standards, but I would die before I let anyone hurt her or the baby. Watching Gracie come into the world hit me on some level that I couldn’t have predicted, but I’m not upset with this turn of events.
Having a baby is an intimate time, and it doesn’t even need to be biologically my child for every instinct in my system to hyperfocus on how best to protect Arbor and Gracie.
My hand falls to her lower back as I wiggle her closer, using my arm to cage her in. Her nose ends up planted in my chest as her hand rests on my pec. It soothes my system on a fundamental level to have her this close to me, and I want her to feel safe and comfortable in return.
“What you need to do now is to focus on healing.” I will myself to purr. “Everything else, we’ll handle as it comes.” It takes a little concentration, but once the low rumbling starts, Arbor coos.
Cooing is a sound omegas make when they’re happy or content, and it makes my chest warm and fuzzy. This is just how biology works when alphas and omegas are involved. My instincts are always going to push me to comfort and coddle her, and hers will strive to find alphas who are capable of protecting her.
“You’re very levelheaded,” she says, running her fingers over my T-shirt. “Thank you for everything. I know I’ve said it a ton of times, but I mean it. I wish I had some other way to pay you back.”
“None of that. Just focus on recuperating.”
Hael’s insurance stunt has far-reaching consequences…more so than any of us could have guessed.
No one ever bothered to ask for our pack commitment certificate or marriage license to prove we are actually a pack. They just took us at our word.
When the lady who handles the birth certificate comes in, she politely asks to see each of our driver’s licenses and then says we should sign next to our names.
In for a penny, right?
Arbor and Gracie are discharged the next morning, and the nurse follows us out to ensure the car seat is installed properly.
It’s scary that it’s necessary.
Do people really try to leave the hospital without car seats?
If so, that’s terrifying.
It’s intimidating enough realizing that we have to drive with a newborn in the snow, but I’ve never questioned Hayes’s driving skills before. He’ll be as vigilant as I would be if I was behind the wheel.
The world just seems a whole lot more daunting with a brand-new baby counting on us to keep her safe.
We’ve all been walking on eggshells since the birth certificate thing, but at some point, we’re going to have to ask Arbor to stay at our house. That, or I guess the three of us can move in with her for a while, but in no way is it safe to be home with a newborn without a vehicle.
What if she has an emergency and can’t get service?
No, they need to stay with us. Technically, we could probably solve the service issue by buying her a better phone and adding her to our plan, but I’d rather not offer that until she’s already accepted that she’s going to be staying with us for the foreseeable future.
Hayes drives the truck down the long, tree-lined easement, and my stomach tightens. The cabin she’s been staying in is less than ten minutes from our house, but we’re already in a pretty rural area. All the cabins out here are run-down from going so long without being used.
Fuck.
I should have told Hayes to drive her to our house.
My fists clench as I try to talk myself down.
It doesn’t help.
I’m having a legit shit fit over how little she has. It makes sense, when I consider she left with only what she could carry in that piece of shit car, but it doesn’t lessen my frustration.
I get it—she’s doing the best she can.
It still eats me up inside.
My head shakes as soon as she walks in the front door. “No way. It’s not safe. You can’t stay out here with no car and a phone that only works sometimes.”
“Ever the tactful gentleman,” Hael says, chuckling. “But I have to admit, I agree with Morris. One bad storm, the electricity goes out, and then you’re really in deep shit.”
Hayes steps up behind the little omega. He has Gracie’s car seat held in one hand, and the smooth fucker slides the other around Arbor’s waist from behind. “I don’t want to scare you, but I just saw a mouse. You really don’t want the baby around mouse droppings. Why don’t you stay with us for a little while? Just until you get back on your feet.”
Arbor’s eyes widen. “I’m on my feet now.”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” Hayes smiles. “Grab what the two of you will need, and we can put it in the bed of the truck. If there’s more, Hael and I can make a second trip.”
I erase the few feet of space separating us and pull a hand up, tenderly brushing my fingers over her cheek. “Please? I’m not going to sleep a wink knowing you’re out here all by yourself with Gracie.”
“This is a bad time to ask, but do any of you have romantic partners?” She glances between the three of us. “If I was dating someone, and they had a random woman and her newborn move in…”
I like the sound of her moving in to our house a little too much, and a lazy smile crosses my face.
“I don’t know what that look means,” she says, jabbing a short finger at my stomach. She’s tiny compared to me, but I think that’s because I’m a giant and not because she’s short for a woman.
“It means, point to whatever you want us to load up .” I laugh as her look only gets more indignant. “No, you’ve got nothing to worry about with non-existent significant others popping up.”
Does she honestly think we wouldn’t have mentioned something like that over the last few days?
There’s a bassinet, a play yard, a portable mat for changing the baby, and not much else, but we get Arbor settled into the guest room downstairs. It doesn’t even have an attached bathroom, and I’m unreasonably pissed about that.
I love this house.
Normally.
My parents passed it on to me when they moved to Texas six years ago.
I lived alone for a while, but then I met Hael during an expo in Baltimore, and we hit it off. He moved up to the frozen North to be my roommate and eventually bought in on the shop.
Once Hayes got back to the US, he came to visit his twin and never left. And it’s been seamless, like we were always meant to be a pack.
I hate that there’s nowhere I can sleep downstairs that won’t be noticeable.
This house I’ve loved my entire life is officially on my last damn nerve. We don’t even have a couch because the twins carried it outside for trash pickup when they went to the shop yesterday.
Apparently it did end up stained from Gracie’s birth, but I would have recommended getting rid of it, anyway. I’m sure seeing it would have been traumatic for Arbor, but without it, the only place to sleep is one of the club chairs.
I’ve been up and down the stairs five or six times since we left Arbor and Gracie in their new room.
I initially hoped to run into Arbor in the kitchen or something, but she breastfeeds, so she doesn’t need to pop in to make bottles.
A huge part of me is content knowing they’re safe here in the house with us, but another piece relished the time we were trapped together in the hospital suite.
I want to refill her cup if she’s out of water and check on Gracie to make sure those gentle grunts are just her grumbling in her sleep. If she does wake up, I want to be the one to change her diaper so Arbor can get a few more minutes of precious sleep.
I’m bordering on full-blown stalker territory as I shove my ear to Arbor’s door. The bedside table lamp is on. I can see the light from under the door, but I don’t hear anything.
It has to be hard for her to be alone with no help. She’s still healing from some pretty significant tearing, based on what the doctor said and all the products the twins picked up.
Running my hand over my face, I mentally weigh my options. I could knock and risk waking them both up. Then again, I could peek inside to see if she’s awake, and if she is, I can hide it under the guise of checking whether she needs anything. Or I could haul my big ass back upstairs and lie in bed, staring at the ceiling and wondering if they’re all right.
The door pops open as I’m busy arguing with myself, and Arbor’s red face greets mine.
She jolts and frowns.
“What’s wrong?” I growl, trying to keep my voice low enough that it won’t wake Gracie.
Arbor’s head shakes, and she stares at her feet. “I just need the bathroom. I’m okay. I’m so sorry. Did her crying wake you?”
Well, I could use that as a solid excuse, but I don’t want her to feel guilty about something that didn’t happen.
“Not at all. I was up, and I wanted to see if you needed anything.”
“Just the bathroom. Oh, and my boobs to stop throbbing.” Her hand flies to her face. “I can’t believe I said that. I’m sorry. I haven’t been to sleep yet. Every time?—”
Gracie lets out a mighty fuss.
Arbor sighs. “That happens.”
“Go to the bathroom,” I say, grabbing her hips and pulling her out of the doorway. “I’ve got the baby.”
Her glassy eyes meet mine. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely. Take your time.” Bending down, I kiss her forehead and step into the room, wondering who the hell gave me permission to do that.
I make it over to the bassinet and scoop up the red-faced baby.
“Are you giving Mommy a tough time?” Placing her in the crook of my arm, I start swaying in the same way that settled her in the hospital. “Yeah, I know. You just wanna be held. That cold bed doesn’t do anything for you, huh?”
Gracie sputters, pushing her little lips together as her nostrils flare. She makes the cutest damn faces. They get me every time.
I pat her bottom, trying to keep her from starting up again with the tears. “After coming from a place where you’re warm, fed on demand, and floating around just enjoying life, it must be a real adjustment to be out in the world. That’s it, isn’t it?”
Her eyes pop open, and she almost looks startled to see me. It reminds me a little of the look Arbor gave me when she spotted me outside her door.
“I get it. Life is hard. See, what we really need is a rocking chair. I’m going to add that to my list. You only seem happy when someone is up moving around with you in their arms. That or when you’re gobbling down milk.” I chuckle as Gracie rolls her lips together. She’s so damn expressive for being so small. “It’s been a rough few days, huh, Gracie Girl? You have no idea how hard it’s been on your momma. She’s beat, but that’s okay. She’s going to have help. And before we know it, I bet you’ll be sleeping through the night.”
Her eyes roll back with her eyelids still open, but eventually they close.
Hell, I’m tired too.
I haven’t slept more than two or three hours in a row since we found Arbor on the way home from Sunday dinner. But I know if I’m tired, that means Arbor has to be dead on her feet.
“Nana is all up in arms that I wouldn’t let her come to the hospital to meet you. If I know that old woman, she’ll be over tomorrow,” I coo, trying to keep my voice light and melodic. I’ve always had a deep, growly voice, so who knows if it works, but Gracie no longer whines. “She’s in her seventies. She raised five kids and has almost twenty grandkids, but most of the family scattered. She’s going to absolutely melt over you.” Arbor comes back into the room, and I give her a soft smile, nodding to the bed. “Mommy is back, but we’re going to let her get some rest.”
When the little omega glances between me and the bed, I gesture toward it again. Even in the low light, her eyes are so damn blue.
Not only do I feel overly attached to the baby, I’m probably staring at her mom with heart eyes.
Yeah, I’m in real trouble.