Chapter 3 - Caleb
There is a special kind of tired that seeps under your skin, coats your soul, and makes the world look like a series of watercolor blurs.
I’ve spent the last six nights learning all its shades.
Turns out, you don’t need to have loved anyone before to become completely, pathologically attached to a person who can’t even hold up her own head.
Alora’s eight and a half weeks old, according to the paperwork I discovered shoved in the diaper bag, but already more stubborn than most grown shifters I know.
She refuses to nap for longer than twenty minutes unless she’s strapped to my chest, and even then, only after a full hour of pacing.
The sling is starting to cut a permanent groove in my shoulder.
Last night she threw up on my last clean shirt, so I’m in a hoodie that smells like stale formula.
My boots are untied, and my hair’s doing something that could only be described as tragic. Even my wolf is embarrassed.
We make it to the Alpha house before noon, which I count as a win, even though I was supposed to be here an hour ago.
The baby’s asleep in the carrier, a sticky hand fisted around the drawstring of my hoodie.
I ring the bell with my elbow, and for a second, I close my eyes and appreciate the silence.
Then the door cracks open, and Nick grins at me like I’m a walking punchline.
“Jesus, Caleb. You look like you got run over by a minivan full of preschoolers.” He waves me in.
“C’mon, let’s not keep the kid out in the cold. ”
I step inside, and the warmth is striking, reminding me that I really do need to sort out the insulation in my place.
Especially now Alora’s here. Mentally, I add that to the list of a thousand things I need to do now that Alora is here.
The Alpha house smells like fresh baking; it’s warm, homely, and inviting.
There’s a faint layer of baby powder, too, which is either from Nick’s own kid or the universe’s idea of a joke because it seems to follow me wherever I go now.
Nick closes the door behind me and leans in to peek at Alora.
She’s snoring, small lips vibrating. There’s a flicker of something on Nick’s face; recognition from someone who knows babies.
“Let’s go through,” he says, and I follow him down the hall. I don’t miss the way he glances back at me, like he’s checking to see if I’m still standing.
The main room is full. James and Dylan are at the table, both already halfway through mugs of strong-smelling coffee.
James has the posture of a guy who will never stop being battle-ready.
Dylan’s more relaxed, but his eyes track my every movement.
They’re not unkind, just sharp. I nod at them both, then set the car seat down on the floor next to my own chair.
I try to sit, but my ass barely hits the cushion before Alora snuffles, flails, and resumes her campaign of world domination.
“Give her here,” Nick says. He’s got the soft hands of a man who knows exactly how to stop a baby crying. He scoops Alora out of the carrier, tucks her expertly into the crook of his arm, and rocks her until she drifts off again.
James watches, eyebrows raised, then chuckles, “We running a daycare now?”
Nick shoots him a light-hearted glare, “We always have time for the pups,” he says, handing me my sleeping daughter.
Nick smirks, “You look like you’re about to fall over. Dylan, get the man some coffee that isn’t whatever diesel oil you drink.”
Dylan stands, grinning like a coyote. “Sure thing. You want cream, sugar, or just a nap and a mercy killing?”
“Black’s fine,” I say, slumping into the chair. I try to smooth my hair back, but it just springs up worse, and I catch James smirking over the rim of his mug.
“You should see yourself,” he says, voice low and amused. “I told Luna you’d last a week before you mentally fell apart and started sleepwalking. At least, that’s what happened to me.”
“I made it about four days,” I retort lightly. “But at least I still look good…most of the time.”
Nick grins. “Spoken like a man who looks like he’s been raiding kitchen trash at 2 a.m.” He leans forward, hands clasped.
“Let’s get the business out of the way so you can get back to concentrating on Alora.
We’re short on patrols for the next few weeks, and I need you to pull some shifts.
” His eyes flick to the baby, then to me.
“Short ones. Only during the day. I hear Skylar and Fern are going to have her at the clinic for you, run some tests anyway?”
I nod. “Yeah, we need to figure out if her mom is human or a shifter,” I say, then add, “I didn’t think to check.”
I keep my voice level and unapologetic, even if deep down I’m embarrassed as hell to admit to the details of how Alora got here. To their credit, none of the men flinches. “She’s tiny, but she sure smells like a shifter…” Dylan shrugs.
I nod, my wolf thinks the same. I suspect Skylar and Fern half-offered just to give me a break, rather than because the tests matter. Either way, I’ll take it. “Thanks for the shifts, I’ll sort times with them.”
James slides a folder across the table. “We’ll keep you on perimeter routes. Easier to bail if you need to get back to the kid.”
There’s something like respect in his gaze, and it throws me off for a second. He didn’t trust me when I first arrived. I wouldn’t have trusted me, either. But he’s seen me at my absolute worst, and now he’s watching to see what I make of myself.
“Don’t worry,” Dylan says, returning with a mug nearly overflowing. “If you fall asleep on the job, we’ll let her run the patrol when she gets bigger instead. Bet she’s got a better nose already.”
I grin, despite myself. “Give her a month. She’ll be running the whole show.”
Nick settles back, looking satisfied. “Good. That’s handled.” He glances at the baby, then at me, and his face softens just a fraction. “You doing okay?”
“Yeah,” I say, running a hand through my hair and trying to re-establish something of the persona I usually try to portray. “We’re just getting on our feet. I’m glad she’s here, though.”
I mean it. The words settle over me, a wobbly truth I didn’t think I was brave enough to say out loud yet. But I can feel it, deep in the soft middle of my chest where nothing good ever lasts. When I look down at her, it’s like there’s a thread tying me to her, tightly.
I didn’t have this on my bingo card, but I’ll be damned if she ever realizes I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.
I say my goodbyes and scoop Alora into the crook of my arm, making a polite exit, shoving another mug of coffee into my system as a last defense.
Outside, the cold clears the last of the tiredness in my head.
I buckle Alora into the truck, her tiny fists kneading at the air, and we set off into town like we’re our own little two-wolf circus.
I pass the general store on the way to the clinic and already feel my soul trying to leave my body.
I need more diapers, probably another pacifier, and whatever magic potion exists to keep babies from losing their goddamn minds between two and five in the morning.
I promise myself I’ll stop in after, but even the thought makes me want to claw my own eyes out.
Last time I went in, Maggie practically staged an intervention in aisle three.
She’s the owner, a woman built like an old oak tree; wide, sturdy, and likely to outlive us all.
She caught me with Alora in the crook of my arm and immediately switched into wolf-grandma mode, not even pretending to be subtle.
Questions came rapid-fire: “Where did you get her?” “Who’s the mom?
” “Is she eating enough?” “Do you have any idea what you’re doing?
” That last one was more of a diagnosis than a question.
I tried to joke my way through it as usual, smiled, flashed the dimples, made a crack about her baby section being a minefield, but Maggie’s not the type to be distracted by charm.
She just patted my arm, called me “sweetie,” and loaded my basket with a week’s worth of supplies I didn’t know I needed.
I left with a receipt longer than my forearm, and the sneaking suspicion that she’d call in a welfare check the next time I bought my usual fifth of whiskey instead of formula.
I swerve the general store for now and decide to deal with Skylar and Fern first. Praying the clinic is quiet again, I pull into the lot and brave the cold.
Inside, Skylar is at the front desk, typing with one hand and holding a granola bar with the other.
She’s in her usual turquoise scrubs, hair in a wild topknot.
When she sees me, she doesn’t say anything at first, just takes in the state of me, and raises a single eyebrow.
“You look like a man who’s seen combat,” she finally offers.
“I’d take a grenade over a colicky night,” I say, and she laughs, genuinely. The sound fills up the empty waiting room, making it feel less like a hospital and more like a living room with very bad lighting.
“Got a minute?” I ask, and she gestures for me to follow. Alora is already stirring, and I can feel the tension in her tiny muscles through the carrier strap.
Skylar leads us through a door marked STAFF ONLY and into a room painted a color probably called something like “optimism” by the paint company.
There’s a full crib set up in the corner, plus a play mat and a changing station.
It’s more intimate in here, and I realize this is where the younger patients must hang out when they need treatment.
“We’ve got everything set up for her,” Skylar says, taking Alora off my hands with practiced ease. “Crib, formula, diapers, even a sound machine. You want me to run those panels this week?”
“Please,” I say, a little too relieved. “And I can take perimeter routes, whenever. Nick said to work it out with you.”
She nods, pulling up her diary on the tablet and listing a few days they can cover. “I’ll keep her here during your shifts this week; it’s pretty light around here at the moment. Drop her off in the mornings, pick her up after.”
I nod, relieved, and Skylar discards the tablet and offers her hands to take Alora, who seems keen to go for a cuddle with one of the only other people she probably knows.
Skylar coos over her and then turns a look on me that’s equal parts concern and calculation.
“You know these shifts aren’t going to get any shorter, right? ” she says, voice casual but loaded.
I cross my arms, bracing for the lecture. “I’ll make it work. You said it yourself…shifters are adaptable.”
Skylar snorts, expertly unsnapping the onesie with her knuckles. “Adaptable is one thing. Running on fumes is another.” She makes a face at the faint, sour smell rising from the diaper, but doesn’t break stride. “You ever think about, I don’t know, getting help? Like, actual help?”
The word makes my skin prickle. I picture the parade of failures that would come from letting someone else into my life, so I shake my head. “Don’t have any family. No one I trust, anyway. And she’s not old enough for pre-school.”
“What about a sitter?” she presses. “A nanny? Even part-time? You’re going to need someone.”
I open my mouth to argue, but nothing comes out. I have no idea what people do with kids this little. I’m winging it, and everyone can tell. Even the baby probably knows.
Skylar reads my silence and softens, working a fresh diaper under Alora with deft precision. “Look, I know it’s weird to ask for help, but the pack does this all the time. Babies are basically a community project for the first few months. You don’t have to white-knuckle it alone.”
I want to protest, to say I’m fine, but the words feel thin and brittle. “I don’t even know what I need,” I say finally, the admission burning my throat on the way out.
She wipes Alora’s face with a practiced gentleness, meets my eyes, and shrugs. “Start by asking. There are people who’d take the job. Luna will definitely know someone, I think she’s already been putting some feelers out to see who might be free.”
I nod, knowing I’ll have to do something, but the thought of leaving her with someone I barely know doesn’t sit right.
Skylar watches me and seems to know what I’m thinking because she says, “No one likes leaving them when they’re little, it’s a sign you’re being a good dad.
But you watch, she’ll thrive…and so will you. ”
I open my mouth to tell her I’m always thriving, but shut it when I realize she would see straight through it, nodding instead, “I’ll follow up with Luna, maybe do some interviews.”
I know she’s right, but it’s going to take someone pretty special for me to drop my guard. Alora has stolen my heart, and I’m determined that she’s going to benefit from the very best of me, whatever I have left to give.