I wanted to tell him that I loved him too, that I wouldn’t forget, but I couldn’t open my mouth. I was so wrung out from my orgasm that there was nothing I could do but sleep.
SEVENTEEN
PHELAN
I took the stairs two at a time and wondered how Rawling ever made it up here.
He didn’t have shifter strength, and hauling his baby bump up to the fourth floor left him breathless. Not that he’d been doing it much lately, as he did his classes online and I brought food up to him. It was only archery practice that took him outside. He had been on a break from archery but Coach didn’t agree and so he was back at it.
Coach said she needed him for the next inter-college competition, and Rawling enjoyed lording it over Atticus, who claimed the baby was a shifter and increased my mate’s skill level.
I’d told my former best friend to give it a rest because everyone was bored with him ranting about my mate’s latency. He’d hissed and insinuated he knew Rawling’s secret, but I doubted that because I knew Atticus well. If he’d had even a hint about my mate being human, he would have broadcast it from the turret.
“Hi.” My mate was on the sofa with a bowl of dried fruit balanced on his bump. I waved the envelope I was carrying, buthe was busy avoiding the dried apricots and eating the raisins and didn’t look at me.
“I got the DNA results.”
That got his attention, and he turned his head. “And?”
“I didn’t open the letter because it’s addressed to you.” While I’d started the DNA process, it wasn’t my place to read the results before Rawling. This was his story, not mine.
He held out his hand and rubbed his belly. “The baby is energetic today.” He made a face. “They’re kicking and squirming.” He spoke to the bump. “Four more weeks and then you can come out.”
Four weeks and we’d be parents. Oh gods. Thanks to my folks we had a crib and clothes and all the baby paraphernalia we supposedly needed, but I only had about twenty-eight days to prepare for fatherhood. And if our little one was this active before birth, I pictured Rawling and me pacing the infirmary floor night after night.
Better catch up on your sleep now.
A huge crack of thunder split the sky outside the window, and Rawling grabbed my hand. A massive storm was approaching which was why I hadn’t shifted after class. The latest weather report predicted flooding in low-lying areas, but Sombertooth was on high ground, so we shouldn’t be affected.
“I’m glad we’re not at archery practice.” My mate peered at the rain teeming outside, and I closed the window.
Rawling ripped open the envelope and scanned the letter before tossing it aside.
“As I thought. I’m not biologically related to Rawlins, so his sister is not my birth mother. Glad we’ve cleared that up.”
I sank into the armchair and reached for his hand. “Okay. Are you disappointed at all?” I was, because if Charlie had been his mom, that would have answered some questions about whythere were so many pics of him with her and Arnie and none with his birth parents.
My mate grunted and held his belly. “I suppose I am a little. While I didn’t believe it, a sense of family and belonging would have been nice.” He squeezed my hand, and ouch, it hurt. “But I have a new family. You, our little one, your parents and brothers. And Jack is like a sister.”
My mate bent forward and grunted. “Oh, little one, you need to sleep because you’re hurting Daddy.”
We’d chosen the names we wanted the baby to call us by. I’d given my mate first choice. He wanted Daddy, and I’d be Papa. It was hard to wrap my head about the idea that I’d be a papa. Rawling and I were nineteen when we met, and now we were both twenty.
We were young to become parents, but fate had shaped our destiny, or perhaps it happened because we’d been horny after being apart for so long. The whys and the hows didn’t matter because our baby was already very much loved and Rawling and I were mated.
“Phelan, help me up, please.”
“Do you want a shower?” Warm water often eased his discomfort.
He rested his head on my chest and pressed his belly against me. I put a hand on his bump, and it was different. It was so tight. I pulled back to study Rawling’s face as something splashed on my foot.
We peered between us at the wet floor, but my brain was confused and wasn’t playing catch-up with what was happening.
“My water…” Rawling choked out. “It broke, and owww, I’ve having a contraction.”
My mind was seconds, maybe minutes behind reality, and I tried to process what my mate was saying. Water. Broke. Contractions. What did it mean?
“I’m in labor,” Rawling sobbed. “The baby is coming.”
