But more times than not, I just catch Lila’s scent drifting softly from the bedroom as she stirs for the day.
Some mornings, Astrid pads into the kitchen silently, eyes bleary, while she tries to wake up. She climbs into one of the chairs without a word, and each time she slowly starts filling the room with her aimless streams of consciousness, sharing those thoughts with me, something almost hollow in my chest fills a little more.
I don’t question it anymore. Instead, I tell myself it’s because she matters to Lila, and because protecting them is my first priority now.
But sometimes, my thoughts slip, and I feel a fierce swell of something almost fatherly. Something paternal that I’ve never experienced before.
I shut it down every time. There’s no point in leaning into that curiosity and confusion. Not now, at least.
Things are going well, and I don’t want to disturb something that feels right.
It’s the Summer Solstice, which means pack members have been busy all day in preparation for our usual cookout. It’s one of the few celebrations we hold openly, though many humans don’t celebrate it as we do anyway. To them, it just looks like a friendly community gathering to celebrate the season.
I keep Lila close as we approach the park meadow, where many of the members have already started playing games and serving food. The sun sits low in the sky, and the air is still warm but not sweltering.
Lila’s steps are stiff and cautious while Astrid walks just ahead, already taking it all in.
She’s wearing a simple blue sundress, but it sits so perfectly around her waist and hips before draping over the rest of her. Each time the breeze lightly lifts the hem, the movement catches my eye and hooks me in immediately—just like everything else she does.
“You don’t have to hover tonight,” she murmurs to me, hardly looking at the others while we draw closer.
“I’m not hovering.”
But we both know it’s a lie.
Lila glances at me with a look that says she knows better than to believe me, but I don’t care. She’s my mate, and I’m not moving any farther away from her than necessary.
As we enter the clearing, conversations quiet down just enough for me to notice before they pick back up. Pack members give us respectful nods, some more enthusiastic than others. I know a lot of them are trying to look past the quick way our bond was initiated and the weakness they smell on her, but it’s also something that takes time. They try to hide it, but I can still feel their lingering doubt.
Lila stiffens, almost like it pains her just to be observed by them, and it’s enough to send a faint tremor through our connection.
It’s habitual for her to want to shrink back, but I can still feel her fighting it, like something in her wants to stand tall. So, she straightens her shoulders and keeps her chin up anyway, even if I can feel the shaky foundation keeping her strength up.
She shouldn’t have to fight. Not when I’m here.
Resting my hand against the small of her back is a reminder, but not a forceful one. Just enough for her to feel that I’m with her, and regardless of what any of them think, she’s mine. She’s protected.
The others notice and, without any prompting, return to their conversations.
Astrid’s eyes light up when she sees some of the kids running and playing tag together, almost like something in her is pulling her closer.
“Do you want to join them?” I ask.
At that, she pulls back a bit, suddenly looking shy as she lingers between Lila and me. She reaches for her mother’s dress. That hesitation doesn’t go unnoticed by me.
My brows furrow slightly, and the moment I see Lila’s face, I catch her uneasiness too. Then I know right away. Astriddoesn’t usually get to play with others, and she doesn’t know how to approach it.
My heart lurches at that, and I carefully ease myself down to Astrid’s level. I give her an encouraging smile.
“You should ask to join. I’m sure they’d love to play with you.”
At that, a spark of hope moves through her eyes, but that uncertainty lingers. “You’re sure? Mama doesn’t let me play with them.”
Immediately, guilt settles on Lila’s shoulders, and after a moment of consideration, she puts a hand on her back.
“Caleb’s right, sweetheart. It doesn’t hurt to try.”
With that gentle nudge, a small, tentative smile spreads across her lips, and with renewed wind in her sails, Astrid nods and draws closer.
