He didn’t argue with her list, just as she’d respected him enough not to argue with his. Together they lay on the picnic blanket in the sunshine, watched the clouds, and gave the gift of safe silence. Willow closed her eyes, breathed deep. Tension melted from her body into the ground.
“Ezra, can I ask you something…something really big?”
“Of course.”
“If we work out—I know I shouldn’t ask yet, but I just wonder about it—if we work out, are kids something you know you want?”
She seemed to feel the rumble of his chest through the ground, though the sensation was probably in her head. “We’ll have to decide together, but yeah, I’m open to it for sure.”
“I am too. What about adoption? I mean, if I couldn’t get pregnant for some reason. Or maybe just because, just to make a difference for a kid.”
Ezra drew a long breath that seemed to tear something in his chest. She released his hand to prop up on her side, to rest her other hand on his shoulder.
“Too early for specifics, I guess. Sorry.”
“No, it’s okay.” He settled one hand on hers and squeezed. “Lupines can’t adopt children, Wil. The government doesn’t consider us safe applicants, so we get denied.”
“Youwhat?”
It couldn’t be true. But Ezra would know, wouldn’t speak to a topic unless he knew. She gripped his hand as hard as she could.
“That’s—that’s so unfair. I can’t—I can’t even—” Her words were failing her, were inadequate anyway, yet they kept sputtering on. “It’s nonsense. It’s stupid. It’s discrimination.”
He gave a broken laugh. “It can’t be lupine discrimination. We outlawed that, remember?”
“You’re using their word,” she said.
“Yeah, well, we’re talking about their laws and their perspective. It’s sort of a subconscious switch.”
Analyst Willow, who occupied a sizable corner of her brain and never quite shut up, found this fascinating. But righteous ire was a rushing river, drowning her out. “Ezra, I am so sorry. I had no idea. It’s so wrong and I’m so sorry.”
“You’re shaking,” Ezra said.
“Because I’m so mad!”
He squeezed her hand. “Thanks. Which maybe sounds weird, but…there aren’t many people outside the pack who care one way or another.”
Outside the pack. She bit her lip. Of course she was still outside. Three dates with Ezra didn’t change her status. Strange, the sudden longing that welled up to belong with them. For a long time she and Ezra lay on the blanket, fingers laced and palms pressed together, gazing upward but making no comments on the cloud formations or anything else.
When her anger had dissipated, she said, “You called me Wil.”
His fingers tensed in hers. “Sorry, it just slipped out.”
“No, I don’t mind. No one’s ever called me Wil before.” She tugged at his hand. “Does that mean I can call you Ez?”
Amusement rumbled in his chest. “That’s probably where it came from, in my head. All us Sterlings shorten each other’s names. Have since we were little. Syd, Ez, Trev, Kels. And one day when Malachi first came to us Trevor piped up ‘Hey, Mal!’ and he didn’t mind, so we kept at it and now he’s Mal to everybody, despite not being a Sterling.”
Willow Sterling.
The name filled her head, the sound of it, the way it looked in script font. Nozto flourish, but she could play with that endingg. WithFitzgeraldthere wasn’t room to play with theg, the way it followed her fancyz.
“What?” Ezra said.
“I like it. You can call me Wil whenever you want.”
Too soon to admit just how fast her imagination was building a future with him. She didn’t want to be too much. The craziest thing—she was almost sure shecouldtell him. She was almost sure Ezra would say she wasn’t too much at all.
Twelve
