Page 139 of Pack Baby for the Silver Foxes

“Old enough to be my older brothers.”

Maeve coughed. “Much older.”

“Thank you for reminding me.”

“But how do you feel about them, Mary?”

I sighed. “Fine. They’re good.”

Maeve stared at me.

“Very good.”

She gave me nothing.

“Infuriatingly good.”

Maeve waited me out.

I put the cup down. “I want them.” I breathed out. “I want them,” I said again, quieter. “And I hate how much I want them because wanting people helps them hurt you.”

Maeve’s expression gentled, and her eyes filled. “They won’t hurt you on purpose.”

“You don’t know that. I want them so much but what if Damien makes them forget me.”

“It won’t happen because they look at you like you’re precious and they can’t believe you’re theirs.”

My eyes stung. “But is it because of the babies?”

“They’re your scent matches, Mary.”

I rubbed a hand over my face. “I know.”

“No, listen to me. They smell you. You smell them. It isn’t a convenient arrangement because you’re pregnant. The bond was there before the pregnancy. Pregnant or not, those men would have found their way to you.”

I swallowed.

“You know,” I whispered, “I’d choose them even if they weren’t my scent matches.”

Maeve froze.

So did I.

Maeve moved first. Mila grumbled when she was shifted, but Maeve managed to set her carefully on the chair before crossing the space between us. Then she grabbed me and wrapped both arms around me, holding on so tightly I had to breathe against her shoulder.

“Maeve.”

“Shut up.”

“That’s not very nurturing.”

“I’m nurturing.”

“You told me to shut up.”

“Tenderly.”

I laughed, and then I was crying as Maeve’s hand moved over my hair.