13. Chapter Thirteen

Julianna and I soooo did not have this. Not any of it. Nothing–not one thing–was going as I had meticulously planned out. Not like any of the countless books I had pored over had led me to believe what I could expect.

The only thing any of them seemed to have gotten right were the out-of-control hormones that were coursing throughout my body, completely unchecked. Those I could do without.

I no longer even tried to stop the tears sliding down my face, as my daughter screamed the heavens down around her. She was red-faced, sweaty, and shrieking, and nothing I seemed to do remotely calmed her.

She wouldn’t latch on to chest feed, and even the few times she had managed to latch and suckle, nothing happened. Every time she realized she was getting nothing out of me, she screamed more. We were both frustrated, and she was hungry.

My milk hadn’t come in, and I didn’t even seem to have any colostrum, the nutrient-rich pre-milk. The same thing had happened to my omega dad and his omega dad, and he had warned me my entire life to not even attempt chest feeding. Why hadn’t I listened? My nipples were bone dry, sore, and my baby was hangry.

Not that I blamed her. I was feeling a bit hangry myself. I had missed lunch, breakfast from the cute bakery I had found was a long time ago, and the hospital dinner had been less than appetizing.

Finally giving in to my failure as a parent, I had requested a bottle of formula for Julianna. My nurse had smiled sympathetically, but I had seen her wincing at the sheer volume of Julianna’s wailing. She’d given a short nod, said she would send in the lactation specialist and be back with a bottle, before hurrying out. She’d probably stopped to swallow some ibuprofen along the way.

Rocking Julianna in my arms from my hospital bed, I used the most soothing voice I could manage. Begging her to please, please, for the love of the Goddess, to stop crying. This couldn’t possibly be good for her. She’d been crying for hours. The more I rocked and tried to soothe her, the more she screamed, her tiny body rigid yet wiggly in my arms.

The door opened and I looked up through my tear-stained eyes, hoping it was my nurse returning with a bottle. A stern looking alpha marched briskly forward, looking displeased with me. Her voice was strong as she nearly had to shout to be heard over the baby. “I hear we’ve already given up on chest feeding. You know that chest feeding is the best thing for your pup, correct? So, let’s try this again, shall we?”

She scooped Julianna from my arms, expertly positioning her against my nipple. Wincing as the baby latched on, my entire body tensed as she took a tentative suck, then another. Realizing she still wasn’t getting anything for her efforts, Julianna practically spat out my nipple and went back to screaming the walls of the hospital down.

“I asked for a bottle.” My voice sounded as defeated as I felt. I’d had such grand plans of nursing my baby until she was at least a year old. Another plan of mine down the drain. Neither my body nor Julianna was cooperating. And I didn’t have the energy to fight about it. My baby was hungry and needed to be fed. Period. And this woman’s attitude and tone were making me feel worse than I already did.

“You stated on your intake that you wished to chest feed.” Her lips were pursed together in displeasure, and she might as well have been tapping her foot at me.

Frustrated, I swiped at a tear, feeling the dampness of my face. I had been crying off and on with Julianna the entire afternoon. My eyes felt swollen and gritty, I was sweaty, in pain, tired and hungry.

“I did. I do.” Stammering, I took a shallow breath, trying to steady myself. “But it’s not working. My milk hasn’t come in, and my omega dad had the same issue. I’m going to need to bottle feed.”

“Let’s try one more time, shall we?” The alpha reached for Julianna again, and I held her tightly to my chest.

“I’ve been trying for the last three hours. I’m done trying. I asked for a bottle.” My voice was firmer than a minute ago, but I could still hear the shakiness in it. Julianna rubbed her little nose against my bare chest, her tears making a wet spot on me. Rubbing a hand in circles over her tiny back, I soothed her the best I could.

“Once more won’t hurt.” She brought her hands toward Julianna and I shrank away from her, turning away slightly to keep my baby from her clutches. My stitches pulled at the movement and I winced.

“I said no!” I hadn’t meant to shout, but I was overwhelmed with emotions and the strong urge to keep my child away from this woman.

“What’s going on in here?”

Grayson’s deep voice vibrated through the room, startling me and the lactation specialist, who spun around, wide-eyed. Neither of us had heard the door opening or the click of his sturdy boots.

Striding briskly forward, he side-stepped the other alpha, reaching for the still screaming baby with steady hands. Our eyes locked, and something washed over me. Warmth. Relief. Trust. Giving a brief nod of my head, he gently took Julianna from me.

Cradling the baby in his arms, he traced her lips with the pinky of his free hand and she immediately latched on and began sucking. The silence that filled the room was both a blessing and a curse.

Because of course he had gotten her to miraculously stop crying. He had immediately just known what to do, like he was some kind of alpha baby whisperer. I had a degree in early childhood development, but I hadn’t thought to even use my finger as a mollifier, like a pacifier. Or a pseudo nipple.

The feelings of inadequacy that had plagued me for hours flooded me and my tears flowed harder.

“Wyatt?” Grayson questioned softly, and his tone was so different than when he had come into the room, demanding to know what was going on. It was calming, soothing, and comforting. “Why are you crying? What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know!” My hands flopped in the air, then I hastily tried to wipe up the tears dripping from my nose onto the scratchy blanket. “Nothing! Everything! She won’t nurse. I don’t have any milk. She’s hungry, and screaming, and nothing I do for her calms her down. I asked for a bottle and they won’t bring me one!”

Never, ever, in my life had I been the type of omega to cry non-stop, or whine about anything. Was this what an out of body experience felt like? If so, I was surely having one. But there was just so much with a new baby I hadn’t anticipated, so many things, and I seemed to be horrible at all of them. Admittedly, I wasn’t used to that feeling. And my body felt foreign to me.

For six months, it had felt like a little alien had taken over. Now that she was gone, my body still didn’t feel like mine again. My belly was empty, but I still looked pregnant. Instead of the hard roundness that had come with pregnancy, my belly was soft and jiggly, like a big bowl of Jell-O. My nipples were puffy and sore, and I didn’t even want to talk about whatever was happening with my hole. The stitches felt tight and my hole felt puffy and ached, and all my other muscles just hurt. Like I had literally pulled every single one of them, all at once. And weird gross stuff was leaking from me. My nurse had assured me it was normal, but I had my doubts.

Add in that I was convinced my daughter absolutely hated everything about me, and it was just too much. Put a fork in me, I was done.

Grayson turned his dark gaze to the woman, who hadn’t even bothered to introduce herself before she’d snatched my baby and started messing with my nipples. Which was just rude on so many levels. And where the fuck was the nurse with the bottle I had requested forever ago?

“Is that true? Did my omega ask for a bottle for our daughter? And you are refusing?”

I sucked in a startled breath at the way he proclaimed me as his omega. Again. The sensible, independent omega in me, that didn’t know this alpha at all, wanted to protest that I was not his omega. That I had never been his omega.

But, earlier, during the only time Julianna had briefly cried herself to sleep after Miss Rose had dropped off my phone to me, I had quickly done some internet searching on fated mates. Looking for more scientific research than folklore and fairy tales, I had found a couple of interesting articles written by well respected scientists.

I couldn’t deny that many things listed as signs of two people being fated seemed to be present between Grayson and me. Especially when I thought back to the night we had shared. Things that I had thought I was feeling because it was my first time experiencing anything sexual, along with being in a scene and being fairly deep into subspace, could also be attributed to us being fated mates.

I would admit to being more open to the possibility of Grayson and I being fated after reading the articles.

That didn’t mean he could just take over everything and start proclaiming me as his property though.

There was another side of me, the one that was obviously being ruled by stupid and irritating, out of control hormones, that nearly preened at the way he had come in and taken charge. Like he had every right in the world to do so.

That growly voice of his just did something to my insides. Made me go all squishy and heated. I had to keep reminding myself that Grayson had known that night in the hotel that we were fated mates. And he hadn’t said a word to me. He had made the choice for both of us to just walk away.

I wasn’t saying I would have made a different choice, just that I would have liked to have some discussion about it. Some say in it. I was tired of people taking my choices away from me. It had happened all of my life and I had vowed when I moved to Sweet Alps no one would make decisions for me or my baby, except for me. But when he acted all sweet and caring, it just messed with the anger I wanted to hold onto for him taking that choice away from me.

I was a bundle of fucked up, messy contradictions that made little sense, and I knew it. I just didn’t have the spoons to deal with all the things I was feeling at the moment.

Honestly though, if he managed to procure a fucking bottle for Julianna, I wasn’t going to complain about anything he did right now. Because I didn’t think she was going to be content sucking on his finger much longer. There was no milk in it either, and she was going to figure that out pretty quickly.

The other alpha crossed her arms over her chest, standing to her full height. She was an average sized female alpha, standing about five foot ten or eleven and stockily built. “Mr. Cooper–”

“It’s doctor, actually,” Grayson interrupted her, and my eyes grew round. How did he know about my doctorates? Because they were plural, and I hadn’t told a soul in Sweet Alps about my academic titles, not even Miss Rose. “Dr. Cooper.”

The woman blinked, seeming to lose her footing for just a second, but she quickly regained her composure. “Dr. Cooper indicated on his intake he wished to chest feed.”

Opening my mouth to defend my change of position, Grayson beat me to it.

“And?” he questioned with just one word, but the way he said it was like five sentences strung together.

“Well, chest feeding is better for the pup. An omega’s milk holds many nutrients and it’s better for their immune system.”

“And?”

My eyes were ping-ponging widely between the pair, as I quickly blinked the last of this round of tears out of them.

“And what? I don’t understand what you’re asking? I just explained it.”

“No, you told me what Wyatt said he preferred when he was admitted. That doesn’t explain the situation I walked into. Are patients not allowed to change their minds? He stated in clear terms that he has asked for a bottle for our child. He has explained to you, and I assume as a professional you are able to observe this, that his milk hasn’t come in and neither has the…” he shook his head, “whatever that pre-milk is called. Can’t remember the technical term. Our pup is hungry and I’m really trying to figure out why you aren’t allowing her to be fed. In any way that is available.”

How does he even know this stuff, my giraffe asked in awe. Yep, they were besotted with the hulking, brooding wolf already. Didn’t take much to turn their head. Traitor.

The woman opened her mouth, but before she could answer, my nurse, Nikki, finally returned, bottle in her hand.

“I’m so sorry it took so long,” Nikki apologized with a warm smile. She started to hand me the bottle, then hesitated between Grayson and me, not sure who to hand the bottle to.

Grayson brought Julianna over and handed her to me with minimal fuss. When he extricated his finger from between her lips, she started to let out a howl. Nikki quickly handed me the bottle and as soon as the baby felt the rubber nipple against her lips, she sucked it in greedily. Her dark eyes closed, and her body gave a little sigh of contentment, that I wanted to mirror with one of my own.

Because the way Grayson had stepped in and taken control of the situation–had stood up for me–made me feel stupidly content.