Page 89 of Pack Baby for the Silver Foxes

“Too much?” he asked.

“No.”

“Mary.”

She looked at the floor. “A bit.”

“We can wait outside,” I said.

“No.” Her hand went to her stomach. This time she left it there. “No, I want to do this.”

I checked us in while Lincoln sat with her. When I returned, she had taken the chair in the corner, and Lincoln had placed himself between her and the room. She noticed and didn’t object.

Progress came in strange shapes.

“Mary McCarthy?” The nurse called fifteen minutes later.

Mary stood, but her face had gone pale again.

I stepped closer. “We want to come in but we can stay here if you prefer.”

She looked at Lincoln. He rose, slower than I knew he wanted to. “Your choice, love.”

Mary nodded, once, then walked toward the door. At the threshold, she stopped and glanced back.

“I really didn’t think you would stay if I asked you to,” she said.

Lincoln’s smile softened. “Thank fuck for that.”

The scan room was dim and warm, with a bed, a monitor angled away, and a sonographer who introduced herself as Jessica and didn’t so much as blink at the sight of two alphas hovering around one young omega.

Mary lay back on the bed and lifted her sweater.

Her stomach was still mostly flat, soft in the way she had insulted herself in the car a few days earlier. I remembered her saying there was only fat to touch and felt the old anger stir again, not at her but at everyone who had taught her to speak about herself like that.

Jessica warmed the gel. “This may feel a little cold.”

Mary looked at me. “Medicine lies constantly.”

“It does,” I said.

Jessica laughed and placed the probe against Mary’s stomach. Mary sucked in a breath.

Lincoln moved first, then stopped. “Hand?”

Mary reached for him. He took her hand like it was an oath.

The monitor flickered.

Gray and black shapes swam on the screen. Static. Shadows. The strange private weather of a body making life. I didn’t understand what I was seeing. But I knew it mattered more than anything I’d ever looked at.

Jessica adjusted the probe, then a fast little sound filled the room, making Mary’s eyes widen.

“Is that...” she whispered.

“Heartbeat,” Jessica said.

Lincoln’s breath left him. Mine didn’t. I forgot how to breathe.