Twenty-Six
Cam
Wyatt was pregnant. wyatt was pregnant!
My head was spinning. My mate was expecting a pup, which made me a proud papa-to-be.
It wasn’t something I’d ever really thought about. Sure, I knew that people grew up, hooked up, maybe got married, had kids, but I hadn’t really … thought about it as something that could happen to me. Or would happen to me.
If I thought about it too long, I realized I’d had no plan for the future at all.
I’d left high school behind me nearly a decade ago now, with no real thought about what I might do for the rest of my life.
It had been too much, too big to contemplate when I was sixteen, seventeen, eighteen—even though I had guidance counselors and teachers and even Dad and Cal pushing me a little bit, asking me what I wanted to do with my life.
At first, it had been cool not to have a plan. I was a rebel. Everyone else, they had a plan. Even Cal had had dreams—he’d wanted to go to the big leagues of sport.
He’d abandoned that plan when Dad got sick. Instead, he’d stayed on the ranch and looked after Dad and the rest of us brothers. Just like a pack leader was supposed to.
And, one by one, my brothers—and my friends, my classmates, my peers—had all drifted off to far-flung places and bright new futures.
I’d stagnated. An eighteen-year-old who shrugged and said, “I dunno, man,” every time he was asked what school he was going to go to, what he was going to study, what kind of career he wanted, was cool. He was bucking the establishment.
A guy pushing thirty who still lived in his natal home, with no job and no income and no education? That wasn’t cool.
Before Wyatt showed up, I’d been careening right into loserdom, if I hadn’t arrived there already.
Oh, sure, I guess people could’ve argued that I was helping around the ranch or whatever.
That was probably a thing that happened in the past, brothers sticking around to help tend the farm, but nowadays, it wasn’t necessary.
Cal had the ranch hands, and if he needed more, he could just hire someone else.
He didn’t need me, not like I needed him and the farm.
But now, I had a mate and a house of my own, and I was thinking about a career, planning for it, taking steps for it. And to top it all off, there was a pup on the way.
I could have thrown my head back and howled. I wanted to shift into my fur and dash outside, sing my coyote song to everyone who would listen—probably Cal and Cody and Connor, who were back at Rocky Ridge for the summer.
My brothers would want to know. They’d be happy for me.
I barely restrained myself. Wyatt was quiet and pensive, still mulling all of this over. I didn’t want to tell everyone the good news, only for Wyatt to decide it wasn’t good news, not for him, and he wanted to do something about it.
The thought sat like a rock in my stomach. In my mind, keeping the pup was the only option, but I wasn’t the one who got to decide that. So I kept my mouth shut and gave Wyatt space when we plonked ourselves on the brand-new leather sofa and turned on the brand-new 85″ flat screen on the wall.
Wyatt’s eyes widened. “Wow,” he said, slowly turning to me. “How much is in that trust fund?”
I laughed a little. “Not much now,” I said honestly, scratching at the back of my head.
I’d have to talk to Cal. If we were expecting a pup …
Well, I knew Uncle Cal wouldn’t leave his nibling out in the cold.
But that could wait. It would wait, especially since Wyatt curled up next to me, invading my space like a very welcome blanket. I opened my arms to him, and he laid his head on my chest. I could feel the tension melting out of his body as he settled against me.
“What do you wanna watch?”
“Hm,” he said slowly. “You pick.”
I grimaced. “You like … superhero movies?”
“Never been a big fan.”
“Lord of the Rings?”
“Always was more of a Harry Potter guy,” he admitted.
I crinkled my nose, and he glanced up at me. “Not anymore,” he added.
I nodded decisively. “Let’s never speak of it again.”
“Honestly, the only way to deal with it,” he laughed. “How do you feel about Star Wars?”
“Star Trek,” I countered.
He rolled his eyes, then took the remote from me. “All right,” he said, “I’ve got an idea.”
“I thought you said I could pick?”
He gave me a cheeky grin, and I felt my mouth curving up in response. “Trust me,” he said, then opened one of the apps.
We ended up watching The Lion King, which was far and away the best choice. I had loved that movie when I was a kid; so had he. It was the absolute perfect place to start sharing our favorite things with each other.
Wyatt fell asleep toward the tail end of the movie; we’d both seen it a million times, and I guessed he was tired. I turned off the tube, laid him out on the sofa, and covered him up with a blanket. I leaned down and gave him a kiss on the cheek, whispering, “See you in bed.”
That got a little grunt, and I grinned before retreating to the bedroom.
Wyatt appeared in the room before I was finished brushing my teeth. I lifted a brow, and he rubbed an eye. “I got cold,” he said, then glanced at the bed. “And the couch is probably a terrible idea.”
“Probably,” I agreed, although I’d tried to buy something relatively comfortable.
He joined me in the ensuite, brushed his teeth and his hair, and then we climbed into bed together.
I wasn’t sure which one of us started giggling first. It was so weird, to be sliding into this big bed, in this bedroom, with these crisp, fresh sheets, him beside me, and knowing that this was the rest of my life. Like we were … actual adults now or something.
“What are you laughing about?” I asked him through my own mirth.
He stared at the ceiling. “Just … how I didn’t think I’d ever be here.”
I tilted my head. Hazel eyes sought my gaze. “It’s so … domestic,” he said.
“Yeah. Guess it is.”
He smiled, bright and genuine. “And, you know, where I come from … that’s not really a thing? Or at least, some people think it shouldn’t be a thing.” A frown marred his face.
“Nobody couples up?” I asked, aiming for levity.
It didn’t work; his expression stayed serious. “Not gay people,” he said solemnly.
The words seemed to hover on the air for a moment, before I burst out laughing. Wyatt turned to me, startled. “What? What?!”
“Gay people settle down all the time,” I told him. “Like this—yeah, exactly like this. I mean, look at Burt and Vern.”
Wyatt frowned. “They don’t live together.”
“Only ’cause Vern works weird fucking hours and Burt likes to sleep. I remember—they totally tried it for a bit.” I did remember now, actually. Mom and Dad had never hidden it from us, so we knew Burt and Vern were basically married, but some of the kids in school …
Roommates was a popular word. I frowned. “I bet gay people have been doing that for ages,” I said. “Living together.”
“Probably,” Wyatt agreed.
“Like—everyone goes on about their aunt and her friend, you know, the one who never got married but her and this BFF or whatever share an apartment.” I gave him a look. “You know they’re banging.”
Wyatt blinked. “I never thought of that.”
“Yeah! It’s like … Sherlock Holmes and Watson. I bet they were banging.”
Wyatt turned those hazel eyes on me again. “There’s something else we can watch.”
“Oh yeah?”
He nodded. “I heard it’s good. Just … never bothered to watch it.”
“Well, we can check it out,” I offered. I don’t think I’d watched anything Sherlock Holmes–related since that one Wishbone episode.
Chip had been obsessed with that show when he was little; I was pretty sure Dad had illegally downloaded it from somewhere and burned a DVD just so we could toss it on and placate Chip.
I glanced at my mate. For him, I was willing to try anything.
In the morning, I made waffles. Wyatt snapped his fingers when he strolled into the kitchen, declaring, “That’s another thing.”
I quirked a brow. “What is?”
“Shrek,” he said, sliding into one of the kitchen chairs. “We can add that to our to-watch list.”
I laughed lightly as I opened the waffle maker. “Sure.”
I extracted the now-perfectly cooked waffle, added more batter, and set the press down again. I proceeded to fix Wyatt a plate—two waffles, slathered with whipped cream and strawberries.
Wyatt grimaced when he saw it. I paused. “Everything okay?”
He swallowed. “Yeah. I just … it’s only been a bit since the nausea backed off, right?”
“Oh,” I said. I glanced down at the plate. “You want something else?”
He shook his head, reaching for it. “It looks really good. Just don’t be offended if I don’t eat it all.”
Some strange instinctual part of me wanted to plonk down and spoon feed him every last bite. He was my mate and he was carrying our pup and that meant I needed to take care of him.
“I can’t make any promises,” I told him. “I worked really hard on this. Oh, shit.”
I darted back over to the overflowing waffle maker while he laughed. I fixed my own plate, then returned to the table. “There’s bacon too,” I told him as I set down my plate.
“Mm,” he said around a mouthful.
I returned to the stove, pulling a plate out of the oven, since I’d been keeping it warm in there. I hadn’t known when he was going to get up.
I settled myself in one of the chairs. Wyatt set down his knife and fork, covering his mouth while he chewed. “I’ve decided,” he said when his mouth was clear.
I paused with my own forkful of waffle halfway to my mouth. Whipped cream and table syrup dripped back to the plate. “Decided what?” I practically squeaked. My heart thudded. I already knew what he was talking about.
I braced myself. It’s his choice, I reminded myself furiously. This wasn’t the old days, when alphas had complete control over their omegas.
“I’m keeping it,” Wyatt said, a slow, secretive smile lighting up his face.
My heart soared. “Really?” I could barely keep the elation out of my voice, and part of me wanted to leap out of my chair and run laps around the kitchen like I was a puppy with the zoomies or something.
I forced myself to stay seated, dropping my fork back to my plate.
“Are you sure? I mean, this is a big decision, and we only just got together, like, what? A couple of months ago—”
Wyatt’s smile just grew. “I’m sure,” he said. He dropped his gaze to the tabletop. “I mean, yeah, I’m a little … weirded out and overwhelmed, because I … this isn’t something that happens to people like me, but …”
He glanced up again. “I’m really happy, Cam.”
I swallowed. “Me too,” I croaked, reaching across the table for his hand. He grabbed mine and squeezed.
“And—why not?” His voice wobbled a little. “I didn’t think this was something that could happen to me, I didn’t think I’d ever have the opportunity to be a parent, not without a ton of paperwork and …”
I squeezed his hand harder as he trailed off, looking toward the window. Something wistful stole over his face. “All my life, I was told that people like me couldn’t have this. Couldn’t have happiness. And now I’ve got it, and I don’t ever want to give up a single crumb of it again.”
My mouth was dry. I was pretty sure I was speechless, until I said, “And the … pup makes you happy?”
“Yeah.” He relaxed then, leaning back in his chair, his free hand coming to rest over his belly. “I thought about it and … it does, Cam. All of this—the house, you, the baby …”
He paused, his gaze fixed on my face, searching. “I’m happier than I ever thought I would be. Than I thought I could be. And it’s all thanks to you, Cam.”
“I’m glad,” I told him, clutching his hand. “I feel the same way. Like I’m the luckiest alpha in the whole world. You’ve made me happier than I have any right to be.”
Wyatt turned a brilliant shade of red. I glanced toward the stove clock. “What time do you need to get to work?”
He shook his head. “Not going to work today. Took the day off.”
“A very wise decision,” I said, slowly extracting my hand from his as I rose to my feet. “Now, why don’t you go get on the bed, and I’ll bring in our second course?”
He quirked a brow. “Why on the bed? Why not right here on the table?”
That was a good suggestion. A great one, even, and I had never loved anyone more than I did in that moment. So, to show him, I did exactly as he said and turned him over the table.