When he knotted me a second time, claiming me fully, it was everything.
I knew without a doubt this was where I was meant to be. With Holden. My mate.
Afterward, we lay there tangled together, our breaths mingling in the quiet room. His hand rested on my stomach, his thumb brushing lazy circles over my skin. I smiled, my eyes drifting shut, content and at peace, maybe for the first time in my whole life.
“Thank you,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “For loving me. For choosing me.”
He kissed the top of my head, his lips lingering. “Always, Mylo. Always.”
And for the first time in my life, I felt like I was home.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
HOLDEN
Driving back from town,the pregnancy test in hand felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. My heart pounded, and I couldn’t wipe the ridiculous grin off my face even if I tried. This was it—the next step. The step Mylo and I had both been too nervous to say out loud but equally desperate to take. I’d considered asking Bishop to run the test, but Mylo wanted us to find out for ourselves first. Just us. And that’s exactly what I wanted too—this moment, the possibility, just for us.
When I opened the door to our cabin, the smell of something incredible hit me immediately. My mate was in the kitchen, cooking—a sight that always made my chest feel too full, like it was hard to breathe because of how lucky I was. He had his back to me, a dish towel slung over his shoulder, humming under his breath as he plated whatever masterpiece he’d whipped up this morning.
“You’re just in time,” he called over his shoulder without turning around, but I could hear the smile in his voice. “Sit your butt down—breakfast is ready.”
I closed the door behind me, my smile widening as I held up the small pharmacy bag. “Got it,” I said. Mylo turned, his eyes landing on the bag in my hand. For a second, something flashedin his expression—nervousness, excitement, hope—and then he nodded and drew in a deep breath.
“Great,” he said, his voice steady even though I caught the slight tremble in his fingers. He reached for the bag, his gaze meeting mine. “You eat. I’ll take this.”
I hesitated, my eyes searching his, but then I nodded, pressing the bag into his hands. “Alright. I’ll eat,” I said, though I wasn’t sure I could stomach anything with the nerves tying knots in my gut. But Mylo gave me that look—the one that said I better do as he said—and I smiled, leaning in to kiss his forehead.
I loved that look. It made everything feel so real, so normal—like we were a couple through and through. And I knew we were. He’d moved into my house, wore my mark, but these small moments? They were the ones that reinforced it.
“I’ll be right back,” he murmured, and I watched him disappear down the hallway, the bathroom door clicking shut behind him.
I sighed, turning to the table. Mylo had gone all out—French toast dusted with powdered sugar, fresh berries, and whipped cream. Eggs cooked perfectly, bacon crisp but not too crispy. He’d even made fresh-squeezed orange juice. My heart twisted, and I sat down, picking up my fork. I took a bite, the flavors bursting on my tongue, but I barely tasted it—my mind was still on Mylo, on the test, on what this could mean for us.
Minutes felt like hours, the clock ticking loud in the quiet room. I was halfway through my plate when I heard the bathroom door open. My head snapped up, my heart in my throat as Mylo walked back into the kitchen, holding the test in his hand. His eyes met mine, and for a second, he just stood there, staring.
“Well?” I asked, my voice coming out rougher than I intended. Mylo’s lips curved into a soft smile—then widened until he was practically beaming.
“It’s positive,” he whispered, like he couldn’t believe it himself.
For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. I just stared at him, my chest so full it might burst. And then I was up, crossing the room in two long strides, pulling him into my arms. He laughed, the sound muffled against my chest as I held him, my hand cradling the back of his head.
“We’re having a baby?” I whispered, my voice breaking.
Mylo pulled back just enough to look at me, his eyes shining. “Yeah,” he breathed, his smile so bright it made my heart ache. “We’re having a baby.”
I kissed him, my lips crashing against his, and he kissed me back, his fingers curling into my shirt, holding me close. This was real. This was happening. Mylo was carrying my baby—our baby—and I’d never been so damn happy in my life.
When we finally pulled apart, Mylo was still smiling, his eyes searching mine. “I can’t believe this,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion. “I’ve dreamed about this, you know? About having a family. And now...”
I cupped his face, my thumbs brushing over his cheeks. “Now it’s real,” I said, my voice steady. “And I’m going to be here every step of the way. I promise, Mylo. You and our baby—you’re my everything.”
His eyes filled with tears, and he nodded, leaning into my touch. “I love you, Holden.”
“I love you too,” I whispered, meaning it with every fiber of my being.
Later that day, we drove to see Hope and Noah. Mylo insisted we tell them first, and honestly, there was no one else I’d rather share the news with. Noah had been up and about for a few days, recovering faster than any human could—one of the perks of being a shifter, I supposed. But seeing him standing there,grinning as he opened the door, made relief wash over me all over again.
“Look who decided to drop by,” Noah said, stepping aside to let us in. He gave Mylo a once-over, his eyes narrowing playfully. “You look like you’re glowing. What’s going on with you two?”
