49. Maia
49
MAIA
H e knew. All this time.
They claim that Ryan knew about Phoebe’s existence.
I was barely pregnant when he died, but they say he knew from the moment she was conceived.
I can’t… I can’t process that.
I can’t imagine a future where he didn’t die, and we lived out our lives, and none of this— the guys, the secrets, the discoveries— happened. Is that bad? Am I a terrible person for no longer being able to imagine a future with the man I loved?
I don’t even know how Ryan would’ve played this. Was he going to wait and let me find out about Phoebe the human way? Was he going to be excited when I shared the news? Would he have been upset over it?
I never… I hate that they— that he— shared this with me. I hate that Oliver was the one to share this piece of news, that he wielded them as a weapon designed to hurt me.
All this time, I’ve had to live knowing Ryan never knew about her. That I was blessed with the most perfect miracle after losing him, and it was almost like fate made it happen. Phoebe was meant to be here, she was part of me, and him, and just... everything. A perfect happenstance.
But that’s not the case at all. Ryan knew. He may even have manufactured it to happen.
And I don’t know how to cope with that.
“You are perfect, lovebug,” I murmur, looking down at Phoebe as she sleeps. She’s lying in the middle of my bed, completely lost to her dreams, and she’s grounding me here in the present with her bliss.
She’s wearing a pale pink sleep suit with bunnies on it, after needing another change. She’s so tiny, and lying on the huge bed only makes her seem that much smaller.
There’s a gentle knock at the door, and I sigh, but beckon for whichever of my guys it is to come in. The likelihood is they’ve sent Seb up—not that he’d need much convincing—to try and smooth the waters before they all apologise, and honestly, it’s a waste of time.
There’s nothing at all that they need to apologise for. Leaving them downstairs, rushing away, was space I needed for me to be able to process.
But I’m not annoyed with them. Whether they kept this from me on purpose or not, it was a blessing. I think… deep down, as cowardly as it is, I’d have liked to know he died not knowing about her.
Because now it means when he was murdered, he knew what he was leaving behind. He knew it was more than just me. He knew that he had a child he’d never see.
The door opens, and I smile up at Seb but falter when bright silver eyes meet mine instead.
“Alex,” I say before shaking my head as he lets out a small growl. I can’t help but grin at him, loving the cuteness from his wolf. “Sorry, Max . Are you okay?”
“No. Mate is mad at me,” he says, striding into the room to come sit on the edge of the bed. The door is open a little, and since I don’t know where Oliver is, I’m a little nervous about whether he can overhear what we say. Max’s words are deeper than when Alex speaks, and there’s a little pout on his face as he stares at me .
Warmth spreads through me as giggles burst forward. His pout deepens, frown lines appearing near his lips and across his forehead, but I can feel the amusement across our bond. I duck my head, covering my lips, and let my hair cover my face as I try to calm down.
Surely, this is just hysterics from the sudden shock because there’s no way that I find the situation now this funny.
“Stop laughing at me,” Max mutters so petulantly that I snort, trying desperately to smother my giggles. But when I peek over at him, he’s crossed his arms over his chest, and has a pet lip. It’s hilarious. “Mate mean. She’s mad at me, and instead of letting me kiss her and make it better, she laughs .”
And that sobers me up. I reach over to grasp his hand, and even in his pouting, he gives it eagerly. I squeeze gently, giving him a soft smile, hoping he can hear the sincerity in my tone. “I’m not mad at you, Max.”
He frowns, opening his mouth to argue, but I shake my head, squeezing his hand once more.
“I’m not mad at Alex or the others, either. Not really. You’re working through the things with me that I need to know, and in the grand scheme of things, that one little bit isn’t a huge thing. I get why it was missed, and honestly, even if it was on purpose, I don’t care.”
I brush my hair out of my face, hating the swell of emotions that surge inside of me.
“Tell me, mate.” He somehow manages to make his growled command cute .
“I just... I’ve spent her entire life, and even the pregnancy, imagining his reaction and thinking about all the what ifs for our future. I planned out how I’d tell him, I imagined all the ways he could react.
“And it’s just hard to know that he always knew about her, and it was me who was in the dark for those first few weeks. I can’t imagine how we’d have moved on past this now that I have you guys and this whole timeline has played out. I can’t play the what-if game any more because I know that my future is you and your brothers and not him.
“But that means I’m stuck in the past, imagining all the thoughts running through his head when he died. My brain is stuck going over and over the horrors he endured. The attempts on his life, and ultimately, the successful one where he knew what he needed to survive for… and he couldn’t.”
I sniffle, wiping the tears away. “And more than that, it hurts to know the man I loved so deeply kept so much from me. It’s stupid, I know that, but it hurts.”
I wrap my arms around myself, hating the way I feel so broken, so empty.
My feelings right now are silly because, without sharing he was a werewolf, there was no way Ryan could’ve told me he knew about our baby. How could he have told me we conceived?
I was on birth control and wouldn’t have believed it was possible.
So it’s illogical that I’m hurt... but I am. We both knew at separate times, but we never got our chance to celebrate together , to share the joy, to be happy.
“He lived a very hard life,” Alex says, and I nod, sniffling. “I’m sorry, Maia. We didn’t keep this from you deliberately, but I hate the way it was shared.”
“So do I.”
He pulls me into his lap, being careful not to disturb the sleeping infant, and his hand trails up and down my back. “None of your feelings are stupid, little butterfly.”
At his encouragement, at the deep understanding I feel from him, I let my sobs overtake me.
I’m moving on with them, I am. I’m working through my grief, and I’m truly trying to be happy because I know I deserve it.
But the thing about grief is that it isn’t linear at all.
I just needed time to process this pain, to let myself feel the hurt, and then I could deal and accept the truth.
“You weren’t his mate,” Alex says quietly. “But that doesn’t mean he didn’t love you. It doesn’t mean that you couldn’t have been happy together.”
I sob harder, wrapping my arms around him. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” He kisses the top of my head, holding me as tightly as I need. “I wish I could take this pain from you.”
“Honestly,” I hiccup out a laugh, “me, too.”
But now the question I have is: was Phoebe’s birth one he orchestrated?
And if so... why?
I brush my tears away, hating that I won’t ever be able to hear the truth from him. So many family members who contain our answers are dead. My parents, Ryan, and even Morgan, for a while.
But there’s someone here, in my house, who might have some answers. I look over to the cracked open door and sit up properly on Alex’s lap.
“Is it safe to bring her downstairs?” I murmur, not meeting Alex’s eyes.
“Ah. Our guest. That’s something else I wanted to talk to you about,” he says. There’s a hesitant look on his face, and his eyes flick to the doorway before giving me a small grin.
I cock a brow. “What have you done to him?”
“Nothing he didn’t deserve.” If I didn’t know better, I’d think it was Ben who answered here, with how petulant he sounds.
“But you have done something?”
He shrugs, but I can see the amusement dancing in his eyes. “He’s fine. Just a little bloodied up. Roughhousing between cousins is normal, you know. ”
I cover my face with my hands, groaning into it. That was not the way to go about this. Not in the slightest.
It’s hard for me, being around Oliver, and seeing the ways he’s so like Ryan. It’s a mental struggle, trying to keep the two men separate, even with having a little bit of time to prepare for it.
It should be easy. Ryan is dead, and Oliver is the one who has been tormenting me for months.
He’s been showing up and following me around, coming inside my house… fuck, for all I know, he’s taken more than just the diary. He’s been a constant shadow, a presence messing with my mind and tormenting me day after day.
And yet, the two brothers share a face, they share a voice, they’re identical… Oliver is so similar to Ryan that even being around him is hard to remember there’s actually a difference.
I loved Ryan, and my heart is struggling to process the fact that Oliver is not him.
I’m not going to lie, Oliver deserved a punch or two for dropping that bomb on me in such a painful and spiteful way. But Oliver is someone who could be an ally.
Or at the very, very least, he knows things, and he could share them.
It’s so frustrating that my men haven’t thought about the fact when they decided to beat their cousin up.
“What’s running through your mind?” Alex asks, brushing my hair out of my face. The strands are sticking to the trails of wetness on my cheeks, and it’s a bit gross.
“That you and your brothers are idiots.” I cover my mouth, surprised that I blurted that out.
Don’t get me wrong—it’s the truth.
Oliver doesn’t have a wolf, so I think he’s already at a disadvantage when it comes to this roughhousing of theirs. They’re beating on a man who can’t even defend himself—not really. It’s cowardly, for sure, but it’s also just plain wrong .
Ignoring the unfairness of it all, though, they’re also in a position where Oliver may be willing to help us.
Even a little. He seems to like me, and he loves Phoebe.
If he could share bits, anything, really, it would be more than we already knew, and it could help us figure some of the things we’re stuck with.
The questions are building, but we’re running out of sources for our answers.
So how did they talk things out with him to try and get us some information? They used their fists.
Or even worse than that, they used their claws and teeth.
“Oliver is… he’s not under his parent’s thumb,” I mention. “He knows about Ryan and I. He knows about Phoebe. He talked about the company and how he’s worked with Ethan and Ryan… he knows lots of things—things we don’t even have the answers to. And you guys are beating him up as if he’s not worth anything, as if he’s just a way to expel your annoyance.
“I know he deserved it. I know… I can’t begin to understand how you all feel, even with our bonds that let me in on it. But I think it’s so stupid of you to just… beat him up.”
Alex laughs, and I narrow my eyes at the hulking figure.
“What?” I snap a little too defensively. Does he think I’m stupid? Did I say something wrong?
I scoot off his lap and cross my arms in front of my chest.
“You’re not upset we hit him, but you’re upset that doing so may have cost us an opportunity?” There’s a huge smirk on his face, and I’m reminded that he’s related to Topher, too, with that act.
I can feel the heat rising to my cheeks, and I look at Phoebe instead of Alex as I shrug. Is that wrong of me?
He laughs loudly, his amusement ricocheting around my chest. “I fucking love you.”
I stick my tongue out at him, refusing to look his way.
“Now, come on, little butterfly,” he cajoles, leaning in towards me. His tone is dripping with his amusement, and I can feel the vibrations of his chest as he tries to stifle his laughter. “Share your violent thoughts with me, baby.”
I grimace, looking at him through my eyelashes. “You’ll judge me.”
“Oh, I most definitely will not.” There’s an almost flirtatious tone to his words, but when I just look back down at my daughter, he huffs out a laugh before getting up.
To my surprise, he carefully lifts Phoebe from the bed, cradling my tiny infant in his bulking arms. He gently lowers her into her crib, and I watch in surprise as she doesn’t cry. He waits a moment, resting his hand on her chest, offering her comfort, but she doesn’t move, doesn’t even stir at the location change.
There’s a proud look on his face, but it disappears as he gets himself settled on the bed. He lays on his side, the full length of him down the bed, and he crooks his finger at me, trying to get me to come and lay next to him.
He’s very beautiful, and he knows it. But annoyingly, so does my body. My tummy flutters at seeing the way he’s so confidently sprawled out. His head is supported by his arm, the thick muscles probably not providing a very comfortable pillow.
“Are you comfy there?” I cock my brow and let my eyes rake up and down his body. Who am I to not take advantage of the very beautiful sight of my mate?
“I’d be comfier if you’d come and lie with me.” He pats the soft mattress, fluttering his eyelashes at me in what is meant to be an alluring way.
And whilst I’m a little tempted, we’ve got bigger things to handle right now than selfishly enjoying the company of each other.
He pats the bed again, and I sigh. “There’s far more important?—”
“More important than me?” He pouts, the soft, begging look in his bright silver eyes twisting me on the inside so badly. He’s so beautiful, so hard to resist, and I’m barely holding onto my willpower at seeing the big, bad alpha giving me puppy dog eyes. “Please, give me some love, mate.”
“You’re a twisted—” I start, and he grins so widely. I sigh, leaning forward to brush a soft kiss on his nose. “I’m… I want to sit and cuddle and just pretend like we have no worries…”
“But mate is too nervous,” Max says, taking over for Alex. The pout deepens, his tone rising, as he mutters, “I let Alex handle it, if mate promises me kisses and cuddles later tonight.”
“I promise.” I laugh as he holds out his large hand, bending his pinky in front of me. I don’t move, and he wiggles his brows, nudging his head towards his finger.
With another laugh, I connect them, letting him force a pinky promise from me.
“Repeat after me: I, Maia Blake, the most sexy and smart woman to ever exist, promise to—” He’s feigning sadness as he speaks.
I roll my eyes, cutting him off. “I, Maia, promise to dedicate my evening to giving Alex and?—”
“Just Max.”
I cover my mouth, trying to not let him see my smile, but his own is so wide I know he felt it through our bond.
“I, Maia, promise to dedicate my evening to giving Max plenty of kisses and cuddles.”
“And nobody else.” Whilst there’s a teasing glint to his words, the stony look causes my amusement to fade away.
“I can’t...” I trail off, feeling the pulsing of three other bonds inside me, and he pouts, but he nods. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Alex says, the change shocking me as the hazel-eyed man takes the place of his wolf. “Max had no right to try and exact that sort of promise from you. Not to excuse it, but we’re just... thrown. Between Oliver showing up and our conversation about Ryan, he’s struggling a little, and he wants some extra love. ”
“You’re both struggling?” I ask, tilting my head to look down at him properly.
His face doesn’t change, and neither does the firm hold he has on his feelings, but I bet his scent does as he gives one small nod. “All of us will be, I think.”
I pat my lap, and he comes to lay his head in it.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur, slowly running my fingers through Alex’s light caramel hair. He purrs ever so slightly, and it’s very soothing for me, and likely for him. “We need to figure this out with Oliver. I want to know everything he does so that we can adapt our plan.”
“It’s hard when we have a lifetime worth of history to share with you… and in a family as fucked up as ours, it’s even more so.”
“You’re not messed up,” I murmur, looking down at him. His eyes are closed, an almost serene expression on his face. I bend down gently, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.
“Oh, baby.” His eyes fly open, and he gives me a sad look. “You don’t even know the half of it.”
“I don’t care about your past, Alex. I care about the man you’ve shown me to be—about the man you’ll continue to be.” I brush his hair back once more and smile. “You’re doing a pretty good job so far.”
“No matter what happens, I can always promise that I strive to be my best for you and for Phoebe. You girls mean everything to me.”
“I know.”
He nods and gets up from my lap. “Now, let’s get the tiny human, and we can go and see my cousin.”
I look at how peaceful she seems and grab the baby monitor instead. “Can we leave her here? Let her sleep?”
“It’s up to you, little butterfly. She’s safe and happy here but will be just as happy with her mama. So whatever is most comfortable for you.”
I shrug and take his offered hand. I leave the door open slightly so that the werewolves in the room can hear if she starts to move before the baby monitor catches her crying, but leaving her up here is for the best.
It keeps her out of a tense atmosphere and makes it so I have one less thing to focus on.
I want answers.
I need answers.
And I’m not going to be against letting my mates encourage Oliver into sharing them, if he decides to hold them in.
After all, what’s a little payback for the torment he’s caused me?