7. Kade

7

KADE

O ne month later…

When Ben suggested that we have a party for the egg-hatching, I wasn't sure. I wanted to share the special moment of seeing our babies for the first time with everyone, but that was the problem. I wanted to share it with everyone , and there's one important person I don't think will come.

Jason hasn't come to see the eggs once. He's never met Otis or visited our beautiful home. He'll sometimes answer my text messages with one or two words, but for the most part, he's ignored me since I got home.

So when our eggs start twitching—when I can hear our babies pecking on their eggs—I don't text Jason.

I text Linus.

Otis springs into action, calling absolutely everyone we know. Harry and Silas arrive within minutes with Trudy and Sean in tow. Then Ansel and Daniel come with platters of food and their many children. Axe, Cy, and Ben seem a little agitated when they show up without their children. Apparently, Tana was babysitting so they could have some alone time. Tana brings their children a few minutes later, along with Ed, who needed a ride. It gets to the point where our home is so full of people that I should be sad there's one missing.

I guess this is my family now. Ben's always going on about found families. I should feel lucky that all of these people will show up at the drop of the hat to see our eggs hatch.

Besides, this should be a happy day. I can't let Jason ruin this for Otis and me.

I sit quietly next to the eggs as the doorbell keeps ringing, and everyone gathers around, offering their congratulations. Sam and Lu file in with their older kids. Lu's little girl asks Cy for strawberries, and he gives her a rare smile.

These are good people. Our kids will be happy growing up amongst them.

Then Otis shows up in the doorway, and next to him I see a head of bright blue hair.

My brother and Linus step inside the room uncertainly. Linus is wearing a beautiful necklace with my brother's pebble at its center. He waves at me excitedly and drags Jason toward the bed.

My brother takes a long look at the three eggs I've spent the last month cuddling.

"They're beautiful," he says.

He's right. They are.

I smile at him. "Runs in the family, huh?"

My macho alpha brother's eyes fill with tears. Linus wraps an arm around him.

"I fucked up, Kade. I'm sorry. I should have come over sooner."

A part of me wants to shrug it off to make this moment easier for him. But things need to change between us. He can't ignore me for months or call my YouTube channel a waste of time. Mostly, he can't think of me as a fuck-up anymore.

I'm not. I just didn't have enough stability to figure out who I was.

"Yeah. You should have."

He steps in closer and gives me a hug. He's not much of a hugger, so I accept it as the peace offering it is. But I can't resist the urge to kiss him on the cheek and smear my lipstick on his skin.

He pulls away from me and wipes it off on his jacket. "Gross, Kade."

He says that, but he's smiling.

Linus gestures to the handkerchief on my right arm. "It's beautiful," he signs.

"Thank you. Your necklace is too," I sign back.

I've had a lot of time in this bed during the last month, and I've spent much of it trying to learn sign language. I still have a long way to go, but hopefully Linus will be patient with me.

A hush falls over our guests as the middle egg cracks down the center.

It's time.

Not long after the first egg cracks, the second and third follow suit. The doctor said that multiple eggs are fairly common in Little Blues who live in Australia, but she hadn't seen many in Anchorage. Something about Little Blues needing a lot of warmth in order to have multiples.

That amused Otis. I guess that coat got us a few extra babies.

There isn't much progress with the eggs for a while, then the center egg cracks open, exposing wet, gray feathers.

They're so little. I want to cuddle them close, but the doctor told us we needed to let them hatch on their own.

The other two eggs separate too, and the top comes off the chick at the end, until we can see their tiny head.

I cover my mouth with my hand. Our first chick is absolutely perfect. I crawl onto the bed to get closer to them.

Ben ushers everyone out of the room.

Jason and Linus call out something to me as they leave, but I don't hear them. I only have eyes for our hatched chick. I begin shifting into my penguin form before Ben shuts the door. My clothing drops uselessly around me, and I waddle over to our baby.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Otis yanking off his clothes and beginning to shift.

The first chick seems a bit disoriented at first. I pick off extra bits of shell from their body, and bring them in close with my wing. The chick stares at Otis as he climbs onto the bed in his bear form, the mattress groaning under his weight.

All at once, the chick rapidly expands into a polar bear cub with bright blue fur. Their eyes widen, clearly as surprised by their transformation as we are.

Otis scoops them into his big arms and licks a long stripe across their blue head. He picks me up too, and I snuggle close to our first baby, who is now at least three times my size.

The second chick emerges from their shell and sees their blue sibling in Otis's arms. They shift into their bear form too, but their fur isn't all blue. Instead, they have patches of blue fur and patches of white.

I was worried about how the world might treat a child Otis and I had together, but I'm glad I didn't let that fear impact my decision to keep them. Our babies are unique, and that's what makes them beautiful.

Otis pulls the second cub into his arms, and I nuzzle them affectionately.

The third chick takes a much longer time. I'm almost tempted to climb down and help them, doctor's advice be damned, but they manage to get out of the shell on their own. They don't shift into their bear form straight away like their siblings. They just peer up at us, curiously.

Otis gently brings them to his chest with their siblings. But just when he's got a hold on them, they begin to shift into a bear.

Their fur is a lighter blue with swirls, almost like the ocean. Even their little button nose is light blue.

I remember that prayer I made to the Sea that night on the Slope—the night before I went into heat a month early.

Clearly, the Sea answered.

I try to stretch my wings to hug all of our children at once, but I'm too small, and I only manage to get two of them. Our bright blue cub shrinks back to their penguin form, and I'm finally able to cuddle with all three of them at once.

I don't ever want to leave this bed. I want to hold my family like this forever.

But I simultaneously want to show off my beautiful children to absolutely everyone. I'll need to figure out how to do both.

For now, our little ones close their eyes and fall asleep. Otis and I stay awake, staring at them. We don't need to shift back into our human forms. We don't need to speak. I can see the wonder in his eyes, and I know exactly how he feels.

I didn't know anyone could be this happy.

A part of me wishes I could show my eight-year-old self this moment. That I could tell him to never give up hope, to never dye his hair. That love would come for him, and not from someone who would expect him to tamp down the brightest, best parts of himself. From a man who would want him exactly the way he is.

The world, in all its beauty, is for us. All of us.

Anyone who thinks otherwise is wrong.