Before I can respond, I feel Carla’s emotions shift through the bond. Not anxiety this time, excitement mixed with something else.
I find her still in the chair, but she’s pressing Maya’s hand to her belly, both of them grinning.
“What’s going on?” I ask, crouching beside them.
“The baby’s doing gymnastics,” Carla says, grabbing my hand and placing it on her stomach. “Feel.”
Sure enough, our cub is active, rolling and kicking. I’ve felt it hundreds of times, but it still fills me with wonder.
“Strong little one.” Maya observes. “Going to be a fighter like their parents.”
“God, I hope not.” Carla laughs. “I’d like a little less fighting in our future.”
“Amen to that,” someone says, and I realize a small crowd has gathered.
Sean raises his glass. “To peaceful futures.”
“To new beginnings,” Cooper adds.
The toasts continue, and I help Carla to her feet so we can accept them properly. She tucks herself against my side, and through our bond, I feel her emotions, joy, belonging, and hope.
“Thank you,” she says when the toasts die down. “All of you. For accepting us, supporting us, and for being our family.”
“Pack is pack,” Cooper says simply. “And Billy’s proven himself one of us.”
The words hit deeper than I’d expected. Acceptance. Not just tolerance, but real acceptance.
The party continues around us, but I pull Carla aside to a quieter spot.
“You okay? I felt something through the bond earlier.”
She smiles, reaching up to cup my face. “Just emotional. Pregnancy hormones and seeing everyone here together. It’s overwhelming in the best way.”
“We can leave whenever you want.”
“Not yet.” She glances around the room. “This is important. What we’re building here.”
She’s right. The sight of bears and wolves laughing together, sharing drinks and telling stories. It’s the future we’re creating for our cub.
“Billy,” she says suddenly, gripping my arm. “Oh!”
“What? Is it…?” Panic flares through me.
“No, no.” She laughs, grabbing my hand and pressing it to a specific spot on her belly. “Just a really big kick. I think someone wants attention.”
Sure enough, I feel a strong movement against my palm. Our cub, making their presence known.
“Already taking after their mother.” I tease. “Centre of attention.”
“Hey!” she swats at me, but she’s grinning.
The night winds down slowly. As people begin to leave, offering final congratulations and well-wishes, Carla yawns against my shoulder.
“Time to get you home.” I decide.
“I can walk.” She protests when I move to help her.
“I know you can.” I wrap my arm around her waist, anyway. “Let me take care of you.”
