The door to the kitchen swung open, and I didn’t need to look up to know it was Holden. The kitchen seemed to shift whenever he walked in—my man had that kind of presence. And now that I knew he was officially in charge of the pack, it made even more sense. This place wasn’t just a resort; it was home for both bear and non-bear shifters.
He strode over to me, his eyes softening the moment they met mine, and my heart did that fluttery thing it always did when he looked at me like that.
“Hey, gorgeous,” he murmured, low enough for only me to hear. His hand rested gently on the small of my back, and I leaned into his touch without thinking.
“Hey,” I whispered back, tilting my head to look up at him. “You here to rescue me from kitchen duty?”
“Actually, yes.” His lips curled into a small smile. “Time for that check-up with Bishop, remember?”
Right. The check-up. Our final ultrasound before the baby arrived. Despite the exhaustion that clung to me, excitement buzzed under my skin. Our baby. Our son.
“Alright,” I said, giving Sarah an apologetic shrug. “Guess I’m cutting out early.”
Sarah waved me off, her eyes twinkling. “Go on, get out of here. We’ve got it covered.”
Holden helped me out of the kitchen—and by “helped,” I mean he hovered, ready to catch me if I so much as wobbled. It was endearing, even if it was a bit much.
Not that I minded. Who wouldn’t like feeling cherished?
The drive to Bishop’s clinic was quiet. I kept sneaking glances at Holden from the corner of my eye. He wore that focused expression—the one that made it seem like he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. His hand rested on my knee, his thumb tracing slow circles against my skin. It was a simple touch, but it made me feel grounded. Safe.
“You nervous?” I asked, breaking the silence.
He glanced over at me, his lips curving into a soft smile. “A little. But mostly excited. What about you?”
I shrugged, exhaling slowly. “Yeah. It’s just... surreal, you know? In a few weeks, we’re going to have a baby. Like... a real, tiny human being.”
Holden chuckled, squeezing my knee gently. “Half bear, half human. But yeah, a tiny being that’s ours.”
When we arrived at the clinic, Bishop greeted us with a grin, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He led us into the exam room, and I climbed onto the table, Holden standing right next to me, our fingers laced together. The gel on my skin was cold, and I shivered slightly, earning a reassuring squeeze from Holden.
“There we go,” Bishop said, focusing on the screen. “Let’s see how this little guy is doing.”
And there he was—our baby, moving ever so slightly on the grainy screen. My breath caught in my throat, and Holden’s grip tightened around my hand. No matter how many times we’d seen him, it always took my breath away.
“He’s perfect,” Bishop murmured, his voice soft. “Everything looks great.”
I glanced at Holden, and the look on his face made my heart squeeze. His eyes were locked on the screen, filled with awe, love, and something even deeper. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to my forehead, and I closed my eyes, savoring the moment.
“You hear that?” he whispered against my skin. “Our boy’s perfect.”
I nodded, my throat too tight to speak. He was right. Everything about this felt perfect—even if my feet were swollen, my back ached, and cinnamon had become my mortal enemy. This was our family. Our future. And I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
HOLDEN
I caughtsight of Mylo in the kitchen that morning, his hand instinctively moving to the small of his back. He tried to hide it—like he always did—putting on that brave front of his. But I knew better. The way he shifted his weight, the crease in his brow when he thought no one was looking—those told me everything. Mylo was hurting, and it made me feel helpless.
I couldn’t exactly take the pain away, no matter how much I wanted to, but I could do something about it. At least, I could try.
The idea hit me as I watched him stir a pot of something delicious—like always—his lips pressed into a tight line, his eyes focused.
Great goddess, he was perfect, even when he was trying so hard not to complain about the pain.
When he turned and caught me staring, I grinned, leaning against the doorway. “Hey, chef extraordinaire. What’s cooking?”
He rolled his eyes, but the corner of his lips twitched up. “Just some pasta for lunch. You hungry already, or are you just here to steal bites?”
