Probably not
I’m not feeling up to it
Logan:
What’s wrong?
I watched the typing dots appear and disappear a half dozen times before she finally sent something through.
Clover:
Just under the weather
Liar. Was she afraid to tell me?
Logan:
Anything I can do?
Want me to order you some soup?
The typing dots did their disappearing act again.
Clover:
Need some sleep
I haven’t been getting enough
I blew out a frustrated breath. Forcing her to tell me wasn’t likely to result in anything good for either of us. Unless she had known for a while and kept it quiet, my pack or I couldn’t be the father. Our first time together had been a haze of hormonal lust. It was probably wishful thinking she’d had a heat flare. None of the others had mentioned one.
This was going to drive me nuts. Who the fuck had gotten their hands on her?
Logan:
Please tell me
Let me help
I deleted both messages before I could send them. Instead, I switched tactics.
Logan:
Arlo, is she OK?
My wait for a reply was probably less than a minute, but it felt like a fucking year.
Arlo:
Meadow says she’s mostly fine
Logan:
I know she’s pregnant
I heard Meadow yelling in the background when I was on the phone with Hendrix
Help me out, man
