Chapter 14
“Iknow I keep saying it, but she’s really gorgeous,” Olivia cooed at the infant inside the crib. Mismatched blue-and-green eyes tracked her finger as she reached down to touch plump, baby-soft cheeks. “I can’t believe Ivy’s two months old now.”
“Me too,” Isabelle said. “The sleep schedule has been murder, and some nights I just want to scream with frustration. But, it’s all worth it.” She glanced down at Ivy, and then at Evan perched on her hip. “Just think about that when you have yours.”
Olivia forced a smile on her lips, and if the Lupa noticed it wasn’t genuine, she was too polite to say anything.
In fact, in the last three months, no one had said anything about the night Eli left.
Isabelle had come the next day, sometime in the evening, worried because she hadn’t called or shown up at their place.
Olivia had been in bed, hadn’t moved since the moment she lay down and cried until she was too exhausted to fight sleep.
She thought she had no tears left, but the moment Isabelle entered the cabin, she broke down once more.
Through sobs and hiccups, she told Isabelle everything that happened.
The Lupa had held her and soothed her with comforting words.
“Whatever you need, Olivia,” Isabelle had said.
“I’ll be here. And take all the time you need. ”
That time, apparently, was three months. She had remained here in Kentucky the entire time, God knows why.
Her wolf let out a sad yowl, as if to say, you know why.
“Baby, baby!” Evan cried, mercifully interrupting her thoughts.
“Aww, you wanna see Ivy?” Isabelle said. “One sec.” She pushed the crib’s railing down so he could easily reach in. His little eyes grew wide with what Olivia thought could only be described as fascination and love as he touched baby Ivy’s chubby leg.
“Well, now I’ve been standing here a full minute and Evan’s hardly noticed me.” Silke was at the door, hands on her hips, a wry smile on her face. “I guess now that Ivy’s here, I’m yesterday’s news to Evan.”
“Silkie!” Evan reached for her, and Silke laughed as she hurried over to him.
“There he is. I knew you still loved me.” She ruffled his hair, then peered into the crib. “She gets prettier every day. Can I hold her, Isabelle?”
“Of course.”
Silke reached in for Ivy, but the second she did, Evan grabbed a fistful of her shirt and yanked.
“No! Silkie mine!”
“Evan—” Isabelle began.
“Mine!” His face crumpled, lower lip trembling.
“Oh, sweetie.” Silke gathered Evan into her arms. He buried his face in her neck, one hand still gripping her shirt. “I’m not going anywhere. I was just going to hold Ivy for a second.”
“No.” His face was all scrunched up, yet he was even more adorable.
“He’s been like this all week,” Isabelle sighed. “Won’t let Silke get near Ivy. But otherwise, he just loves his baby sister.”
Olivia watched Silke bounce Evan on her hip, her hand rubbing circles on his back until his scowl softened.
“You’re a natural with kids, Silke,” Olivia said. “You’re going to be a great mom someday.”
Silke’s hand stilled on Evan’s back and while her smile stayed in place, something changed in her eyes. It was brief, a mere flicker of raw emotion that she blinked away quickly, but not fast enough that Olivia didn’t notice it.
“That’s sweet of you to say.” Silke shifted Evan to her other hip. “Oh, I just remembered, Arlene needed me to check some invoices before the end of the day. I should go take care of that before I forget.” She passed Evan back to Isabelle, dropped a kiss on Ivy’s forehead, and was out the door.
“Did I say something wrong?” Olivia asked once she was sure Silke was out of earshot.
Isabelle adjusted Evan on her hip. “It’s … complicated.”
“If I did something wrong, please tell me.”
The Lupa exhaled. “Silke can’t have children.”
Olivia clutched at her chest. “What?”
“She’s never told me the full details. Ransom did, because I asked, but it’s not my story to tell.” Isabelle’s face was carefully impassive. “She doesn’t talk about it, and we don’t bring it up.”
“Oh God.” Olivia massaged her temple with the fingers. “I’m such an idiot. I should go after her. I need to apologize.”
“You didn’t know. And she won’t hold it against you. That’s not who she is.” Isabelle reached over and squeezed Olivia’s arm. “Give her a little space and then talk to her later. She’ll be fine. Silke’s got the biggest heart of anyone I’ve ever met. She just carries some things on her own.”
Still, the expression on Silke’s face was something Olivia could relate to. It was the look of someone who wanted something they couldn’t have.
Her wolf lay its head down, letting out a long, sad sigh and a pain plucked at her chest at the reminder.
Eli.
Yes, he was the reason she had stayed in Kentucky. Because some stupid, stubborn part of her still believed Eli would walk back through that door. That despite what she’d said, despite the ultimatum she’d meant with every fiber of her being, he would come back to her.
In the three months since he left, she had thought about him every single day, wondering where he was, what he was doing.
And with much dread, if Garret had found him, or he’d found Garret.
Whether he was hurt somewhere with no one to help him.
Whether he was still alive. But she didn’t regret what she’d said to him that night.
She’d meant all of it, and she’d been right.
If it hadn’t blown up over the coven, it would have been something else.
It was a ticking time bomb, an explosion just waiting to happen.
At least this way, she’d told him the truth about who he was before he walked out.
Not that it made it hurt less.
“Hey, Momma.” Isabelle’s voice pulled her back. The Lupa nodded at her midsection with a grin. “You’ve popped.”
Olivia glanced down. Her hand went to the rounded swell of her belly. It had happened almost overnight—one morning her stomach was still mostly flat, and the next she woke up and there it was. “Yeah. I guess I have.”
Isabelle shifted Evan to her other hip. “You need some new clothes. I’ve got a bunch of maternity stuff you can have, though fair warning, anything of mine is going to be about six inches too short on you.”
Olivia laughed. “I appreciate that.” She paused.
There had been a thought lingering in her mind the past couple of days, something she wasn’t sure how to bring it up.
This was probably the best opening she was going to get.
“Actually, I was thinking maybe I could go shopping somewhere with a bigger selection. Like … Bloomingdale’s. ”
“Oh.” Isabelle’s smile faded. “You’re going back to New York.”
“Yeah.” She placed both hands on her belly. “It’s time.”
Her family had come over to visit a couple of times over the past few months.
Her parents, Sloane and Jacob, even Arch and Renée Rose, whose arrival at Seven Peaks had sent the MC into a frenzy that Olivia would have found hilarious under different circumstances.
Axle had actually asked for a selfie, which Snake gave him grief about for a solid week.
They knew what happened, at least the part about Eli leaving to hunt Garret down.
Her mother had broached the subject about her coming home, but when Olivia replied with a simple “no,” she didn’t press it.
No one brought up Eli, either, though his name and presence was always the elephant in the room.
They gave her space, and she loved them for it.
But she couldn’t stay here anymore. In the beginning, the memories had been a comfort.
The cabin, the trails they’d hiked, the dock at the lake.
Running in her wolf form through the mountains had helped too, the physical release burning off the worst of the grief.
But at some point, those same things that gave her solace, all those memories of him, turned sour.
Every morning, she woke up in that bed and reached for his side, and every morning it was cold.
He wasn’t coming back. She’d fought that realization for weeks, argued with it, let her wolf howl at the injustice of it. But the truth was plain. He’d made his choice, and it wasn’t her.
“Are you sure?” Isabelle asked gently.
“Yeah.” Her resolve held firmly in place. “I think staying here any longer is just me waiting for something that isn’t going to happen.”
Isabelle didn’t argue with that. “I’m going to miss you. And you can come back anytime.” She pulled Olivia into a one-armed hug, Evan squished between them.
A few days later, Olivia was back in New York.
The city felt louder than she remembered, even more crowded.
The buildings seemed taller too, looming overhead and blocking the sun.
The honking cabs and the crush of pedestrians rushing here and there threatened to overwhelm here.
All she could think about was the fresh mountain air and the birdsongs of Kentucky.
Yet, this was exactly what she needed.
Her parents offered for her to stay with them in Manhattan, but she insisted on staying at her condo in Forest Hills.
Sloane had come by the first night a bottle of sparkling cider and ordered a ridiculous amount of takeout that required three delivery men, then they’d sat on the couch and talked about everything except Eli.
Her father stopped by with groceries and spent twenty minutes rearranging her refrigerator without being asked.
Arch sent flowers. Renée curated a Spotify playlist for her entitled “Songs for When Men Are Trash” that was four hours long.
Her group chat with her other Lizzie and Charley—which had gone quiet since their last messages of support when Eli left—now lit up her notifications as they sent her funny memes and viral videos.
Nobody mentioned Eli by name like it was some family agreement.
Her mother broke the streak on day three.
“I brought you ginger tea and prenatal vitamins,” her mother announced, marching into the apartment with two shopping bags.
She had come with only a two-minute warning, texting Olivia that she was already downstairs in the lobby.
“My baby. And my grandbaby.” Her face softened.
“You’re carrying beautifully, sweetheart. ”
“Thanks, Mom.” Olivia took the bags from her and placed them on the counter.
She unpacked the bags which tea, vitamins, organic crackers, a cashmere throw blanket, and three onesies, one in pink, one in blue, and one gender-neutral yellow. “I couldn’t help myself,” she said when Olivia raised an eyebrow at the baby clothes. “So sue me.”
They made tea and settled on the couch. Luna tucked her feet under herself and studied Olivia over the rim of her mug.
“Your father wanted to come today, but he’s in meetings with the Alpha all afternoon.”
“That’s fine.”
“He’s worried about you. We all are.” Her mother took a sip. “And for what it’s worth, he’s furious. So is Arch.”
“At Eli?” His name felt alien on tongue. She couldn’t remember the last time she said it aloud.
“Who else?” She set her mug down. “Though I will say, your father and your brother are slightly less furious than I am, which is infuriating in itself.”
“Why less?”
Her mother rolled her eyes so hard Olivia thought they might get stuck.
“Because they ‘understand’ his need to ‘protect’ you.” She put air quotes around both words.
“Apparently, running off to fight your psychotic father alone is some kind of noble Lycan male instinct, and I should be more sympathetic to his ‘impossible position.’” More air quotes.
“Your father actually said that to me. With a straight face.”
“What did you say?”
“I said that’s bullshit. And then I said men are idiots. And then I said if Eli Blake ever shows his face again, I’m going to smack him in the face so hard, he’ll see birds dancing around for weeks.” She picked up her mug again. “Your father didn’t argue with that last part.”
Olivia laughed. A real one.
They went to dinner at a small Italian place a few blocks from Olivia’s apartment.
Her mother talked about a gallery opening she was curating and a new artist she’d discovered in Brooklyn, and for a couple of hours, Olivia felt close to normal.
She ate an obscene amount of pasta, bread, and pizza, and her mother encouraged her, telling her stories of how much she ate back when she was pregnant.
They parted on the sidewalk outside the restaurant. Her mother hugged her tight. “Call me tomorrow?”
“I will.”
“I mean it. Tomorrow. Not in three days.”
“Tomorrow, Mom. I promise.”
She watched her mother get into a cab, then turned and started walking home. The evening was mild and she wanted the air. Her apartment was only eight blocks away, and the streets were well-lit and busy enough that she wasn’t worried.
She was halfway down the block when someone bumped into her.
A man, tall, wearing a baseball cap pulled low.
He muttered an apology and kept moving, but something fell from his hand and clattered on the sidewalk near her feet.
She bent to pick it up on instinct and that’s when the scent hit her.
It was familiar, but at the same time, not.
Leather, rum-soaked oak barrels, and a touch of grass.
Her head snapped up. The man had stopped a few feet ahead, his back to her. He turned slowly and approached her. Even under the cap, she could see the resemblance — the jaw, the build, the way he held himself.
“It’s you,” she breathed.