Several older townspeople had volunteered to read books to children, and they had a book club of their own.
On Tuesdays, a day without healers’ appointments and hair appointments, apparently, they met in the mornings and had spirited but civil debates on all kinds of subjects. Last week, one of them brought a coffeepot and cups, and someone else donuts from the new donut shop in town. That place was dangerous. You could smell the frying dough first thing in the morning.
All kinds of things had been donated. The businesses around town donated cooking appliances for rent and even offered some classes at the library.
We had some computers set up only for those seeking help. Some came in for job seeking. Others for finding support or resources for their situation.
It was turning out to be everything I intended and more.
We’d registered more townspeople for library cards than there had ever been.
Then there was me. With all of this activity in the library and running myself ragged, for a good cause, of course, I was not feeling like myself. The moment I got home in the afternoons, I took a nap for an hour or so and then went to bed early.
Greg was worried about me.
According to him, I wasn’t eating enough. I was sleeping a lot. There were dark circles under my eyes.
My alpha had a point. But the library was so new, and working hard was in my blood.
Still, something had to give.
Thank goodness the library was closed on Sundays and Mondays. My choice, but everyone needed a day off and until the mayor gave me a bigger budget to hire someone to help, I was a one-man show.
I woke up on Sunday morning and as soon as my feet hit the floor, my stomach revolted against me. Bile rose in my throat and I darted for the bathroom. This happened more than a few times. Enough to make me worried right alongside my alpha.
I heard Greg’s footsteps bound up the stairs and then into the bathroom. “Oswald, not again, sweetheart. Here. Let me help you. Are you done, you think?”
Nodding, I sat back on my butt against the wall as Greg went to work. This happened so many times, it was a horrible routine. He flushed the toilet and brought me a cold rag for my neck and a warm one to clean up. But this time, instead of bringing me back to bed, he slumped down the wall and sat next to me.
“Omega, I think we should talk about something.”
I reached over and took his hand in mine. “Talk, then.”
“We both know what’s been going on with you. The tiredness. The aversion to some food. The throwing up almost every morning.” I opened my mouth to argue but there was no point. It had become an almost-daily thing.
“Do you think I’m sick?” I asked. “Shifters don’t really get sick, right?”
“Not really, but I have had an idea for a few weeks, and now your scent has confirmed it somewhat.”
I turned to him. “What is it?”
“Omega, you’re pregnant. Your scent is sweeter. My bear knows it. The symptoms all match up. And we’ve not used protection, not even once.”
His words hit me right in the chest. Of course, he was right. How had I not thought of it? Moreover, how did my fox not tell me?
The thing was, I hadn’t had a run in quite a while.
I hadn’t had time to stop and commune with my fox either.
“I need a test,” I said, accepting that my alpha was probably right.
“I bought some at the drugstore yesterday. I was that sure my bear was right.” He opened the cabinet and pulled out a bag with several tests in it. “Let’s find out for sure, okay?”
Once the test was done, we stayed in our bedroom and sat on the chest at the end of the bed and waited. Two minutes never seemed so damned long.
“Can you look at it for me?” I asked my bear.
“Are you sure?” I nodded, so he went into the bathroom. He came out holding the test and smiling like he’d just won the lottery. Too bad that didn’t tell me if the test came out positive or not. Greg had told me he wanted a family but was leaving it up to me on the timing and if we even did have a family at all.
