75. Henri
Chapter 75
Henri
I let Deacon lead me upstairs to his room. Begrudgingly, I follow him into his bathroom and then wait for him to leave.
“Okay, I’ve got it from here.” I try to shoo him out the door with a few flicks of my hand.
Doing the opposite, Deacon closes the bathroom door and slumps against it until he’s sitting on the floor.
“Great.” Rolling my eyes, I head over to the toilet.
Luckily, Deacon caught me before my after-lunch bathroom break, and I have to go. In an attempt at modesty, I leave my dress mostly down while sitting on the toilet and get it out of the way before trying to do my business.
This is the most awkward thing in the entire world. Human women go through this all the time? How does anyone make this work? Through the grace of God or whatever deity there is, I manage to pee on the stick without getting urine everywhere.
I clear my throat, and Deacon trains his eyes on the floor while I clean up. The stick capped and set on the counter, I wash my hands, and the gravity of what we’re doing sinks in.
Deny. Deny. Deny. It’s not actually happening. The test isn’t going to be positive. I’m not going to be pregnant. I watch the stick on the counter while drying my hands. Deacon’s heart has been beating fast, and now mine matches the pace of his.
It hasn’t changed yet.
“This is stupid,” I groan, looking at Deacon.
In a fluid movement, giving away just how graceful he can be, Deacon comes to stand behind me, staring at the little test on the counter. He wraps his arms around me and rests his head on top of mine.
“It’s not stupid,” Deacon answers. “Even if it’s negative, it’s better to know for sure.”
“It is going to be negative,” I tell him. Again.
Our mate. My wolf presses hard inside me, and I can’t help but let myself lean back into his embrace. And a baby could be nice.
Deacon tightens his arms around me.
“How long do we hav—” The test on the counter starts changing, and the rest of my words come out as a whisper. “To wait?”
“Gonna go with we’ve got an answer.” Deacon holds me tighter.
Plain as day, the test reads in all spelled-out letters ‘pregnant.’
My heart shatters into a million pieces. No. No. No. My heartbeat skyrockets further. I can feel my pulse in every part of my body, and I’m getting hot all over. My head throbs, and I forget how to breathe.
“Shhh.” Deacon squeezes me. “We’ll figure this out. It’ll be okay.”
I wobble, and it feels like the world is spinning, but Deacon’s holding me. He pulls me up tight against his chest and carries me out of the bathroom.
Time is moving funny, and I’m gasping for air .
The bed squishes underneath me, and the world is blurry with my tears. I try to wipe them away, but I can’t move fast enough.
Deacon lies on the bed next to me, and I try to move away from him. He pulls me back. Which is probably for the best because the room spins, and lying still stops the movement.
“I’m pregnant. That’s going to change everything.” I squeeze my eyes shut and try to picture this life with Deacon. I finally get the words out. “I can’t do this. I never really wanted to be a mom. I don’t know how to parent.”
Our mate’s pup, my wolf snarls at me. She pushes me closer to Deacon, and I turn, curling up against him.
I press my face against his chest, and despite everything, drawing in deep breaths of his scent calms me down. I’m pregnant with Deacon’s baby.
He runs his hand listlessly up and down my arm. Silent and calming, Deacon doesn’t interfere with my wallowing, but he comforts me so much.
Our mate will take care of us. Look at how he takes care of us. My wolf argues with me.
I’m quick to dismiss it. Moving on, the idea of being pregnant hits me again: swollen stomach and miserable. I’ll be on my own doing it all. He’s struggling with even taking care of himself. It’s nice having him camping out in the office, but what if this is what it’s like forever?
Our mate is doing a good job. He is great at caring for us, my wolf argues.
But beyond pregnancy, I don’t know anything about raising a pup. Having been raised by humans has always made me feel on the outside. I can’t raise a wolf because, despite the fluffy wolf inside, I’m not a true wolf.
Yes, you are. My wolf huffs. I don’t know how much more wolf you want to be .
There’s no way to make her understand. Deacon is good to me, but that doesn’t mean this is the right thing.
“Hen.” Deacon wipes the tears out of my eyes when I look at him. “I’m here, and I’m all in. You’re not alone. We”—he reiterates by giving me a little squeeze—“can do this.”
I want to agree with him. Fuck I want to let him take care of me, but what if he can’t?
Shaking my head, I draw a deep breath. “We aren’t supposed to be together.”
“Says who?” Deacon laughs as he runs his fingers through my hair. He pulls me up to sit with him on the bed. Cross-legged, Deacon pulls me to sit in his lap, and I wrap my legs around either side of him. “I’ve got adorable little fang marks to prove it.” He drops his voice to a whisper. “Yours are less little, but if I do say so myself, they’re equally adorable. You are mine. I’m yours.”
Mine. I feel that word as he says it.
I’ve envied Finn and Lena in how thoroughly they’ve claimed each other. Cade’s entire world revolves around Thalia, and there’s something so amazing in the possession on that level.
But Deacon can’t give me that. He’s inconsistent and a mess. Even if I wanted to be a parent, and I’m not sure I do, Deacon couldn’t be there with me through everything.
Shaking my head, I can’t give him words that won’t hurt him. “You’re holding it together the best you can. I know how hard you’re trying. But now I have two people to think about.” My voice catches. “I don’t know that we can do this together.”
The hurt is evident in every feature on Deacon’s face. He bites his lips together and draws a deep breath. “I understand where you’re coming from. You know I’m here with whatever need you have. Whatever you’re willing and wanting to share with me, I’m here. ”
The pain in Deacon’s face and the tension in his body echo the gutting pain of my wolf screaming inside me. She howls and rips at me from the inside out, threatening to shred me to pieces. The bond between us pulses with sadness like a boat being tossed about in a turbulent ocean.
The road to hell is paved with good intentions. No matter how much this hurts, I have to make the right choices and be the responsible one.
Ignoring her, I shake my head. I know it’s a contradiction in our communication, but I can’t force myself to nod in agreement. “Yeah. I’ll let you know.”
Deacon isn’t hiding his pain, but he doesn’t try to stop me. Instead he helps me to my feet. I’m halfway out of his suite when I stop walking. Something nagging me in the back of my brain forces me to look at him.
He pauses, focused completely on me. His eyes are glassy but not dazed out like when he’s under the influence of something. They match the hurt on the rest of his face.
“Deacon?” His name is the dumbest question ever since I’m looking at him, but it doesn’t stop me from asking it.
“Yeah, Hen?”
“You’re sober, aren’t you?”
He gives me a tiny smile and a nod. “Have been since we started your heat.”
“The champagne when we came home?” I try.
“Slipped it to Lena. Don’t tell Finn.”
This is so fucking awkward. I don’t know what to say. Walking away, I fight my wolf at every step. She tries to drag me back to Deacon and the reassurance that comes with staying in his arms. Hiding away in his suite from trouble and responsibilities would only compound the problem.
Instead, I go back to my office. Tonight, I need the space. I need my cabin by Ms. Gertie and to really think about what this is going to mean for us.
For all of us. My wolf projects the idea of a happy little three-person family. Me, Deacon, and a baby.
My little trip upstairs to Deacon’s suite took almost a half hour. I sit down at my desk and open a private browser tab to type words I never thought I’d have to type into a search bar.
Wolf shifter pregnancy termination.
The search pulls up a number of websites, but I can’t click on any of them.
Wait. I drum my fingers on the desktop and move my computer off my desk calendar, which hasn’t been changed from last month.
Thirty - six hours... So it was this day. I hold my finger on that date and count down the rows and over to today. That was only two weeks ago.
He didn’t drink his glass of champagne when we toasted Ansel’s freedom once we got home.
Our mate, my wolf snarls, snapping at me, is trying for us, and you’re just pushing him away when he could be taking care of us.
I close my eyes when the screen gets blurry from my tears. The memories of him trying to hold it together while I was managing him as the public-facing member of the Alden pack, the day drinking and pills, are all so recent in my brain. That’s not a safe family environment.
But he’s doing it. My wolf pushes the logic of it.
Okay, so even if Deacon is sober. Even if he gets his wolf under control, that doesn’t make either of us a good candidate for parents.
But dammit, Deacon... I put my hand on my lower stomach, where apparently I’m growing a baby, a pup. I’ve seen him with children. No. No. Being good with someone else’s children doesn’t make you a good parent.
You’re being stubborn. He’ll be good. My wolf believes in Deacon. She’s adamant.
I don’t have to make any decisions today. Maybe... we’ll see.
But I can’t sit at my desk anymore. I pack up my shit and start out of my office, heading toward the back door and hopefully avoiding everyone on the way to my cabin. No reason I can’t do the rest of my work today from there.