Chapter Fifty-Six

Eve

Flora's face is grainier than usual on my phone screen, lagging every time she moves. I guess that's what I get for calling her from the nursery—the reception always struggles in here—but I can't bring myself to leave.

Literally.

" That's new, " Flora says, noting the yoga ball I'm sitting on.

"Yeah." I try not to blush, swaying my hips. I have to admit, it does take some of the pressure off. The only problem is I can't seem to get off of it—not without face planting. "Pretty embarrassing, though."

" Are you kidding me ?" Flora scoffs. " I've been doing nothing but eat and cry for days. Don't talk to me about embarrassing ."

My inner omega cringes with concern. "Is everything okay?"

" Everything's great. I'm just—well, you remember what it was like for you when you were six months. "

Yeah. The slightest thing could make me burst into tears, or laughter, or pure horniness. More than once, I've started crying immediately after being knotted. My alphas freaked out, terrified they'd hurt me or the pup, and I had to explain that they were happy tears.

Just thinking about it … how good it felt to be full, how sweet they were as they calmed me down … I have to quickly collect myself.

"It'll get easier," I lie through my teeth. "P–promise."

Flora graciously changes the subject. " I spoke to Lucille yesterday. "

"Really?" I try not to betray my hurt. Lucille only ever seems to want to text me.

" You should've seen her, Evie. " She laughs. "She looked drunk."

"She what ?"

" Not literally. I mean happy. Like, a happy drunk. "

"Uh … is that good?" It's hard to imagine our sister being anything but her cool, composed self, even in the throes of a new courtship.

" Pack Bishop must be doing something right, if she's finally loosening up. About time someone pulled that stick out of her a—" One of her alphas makes a chiding tone in the background, cutting her off. Flora smirks. " Well, you know what I mean ."

"I'm glad for her," I say honestly. "Lucille, happy , that … that's all I ever wanted for her. For you, as well."

Flora softens. I don't have to see her full body to know she's rubbing her stomach. " I am. And so is she—thanks to you ."

Before I can blush, or tell her that really, it's Baxter she should be thanking, Flora gasps.

" You have to tell me more about your den birth! I actually had the same idea, but my alphas totally shut me down. Maybe if you tell me how you convinced yours, I can use the same tactic." I hear another rebuke in the background, but judging from the way Flora waggles her eyebrows, she's more curious than serious.

I consider. "I didn't really have a tactic. I just asked and hoped they'd say yes."

" They must be worried, though. It's not like you're the healthiest."

The words are like tiny knives digging into an old wound. The scar is tough enough that they don't penetrate, but I automatically withdraw.

Flora says, " Sorry. I didn't mean it like that. I just … well, I guess I'm worried about you, too. "

"I promise, we're being really careful. Baxter's rented a whole bunch of medical gear for the nesting room, and Marcus has been teaching us what to do. We also have some m–midwives on standby."

" That's good ," she says encouragingly. " I'm really happy for you. If it's what you want, then it's what you should get. "

Just like that, my inner omega is placated. I always seem to underestimate how much my sisters' validation means to me. "Thanks, Flor."

Suddenly a second head pokes into frame. I recognize one of Flora's alphas, Mateo, as well as his too-tight smile. " Afternoon, Eve. I hope you weren't giving our omega any big ideas? "

I shake my head. "N–no ideas here."

" No sir," Flora agrees, winking.

It's clear Mateo wants her attention, so she gives me an air kiss and quick farewell. The line goes dead.

Like every time I speak to one of my sisters, I end up releasing a breath I didn't know I was holding. My hips sink deeper into the yoga ball.

Oh, right. I'm still stuck.

I consider chirping to get one of my alpha's attention, but decide against it. They'll find me in here soon enough. And besides, I like just sitting here, swirling my hips around, admiring the beautiful nursery we put together.

The crib is already decked out and ready for the pup's first night. Or day. I don't really know what to expect from their sleep schedule—most of what I've read says it's pretty unpredictable. Especially for an omega pup.

With the big eight-month ultrasound coming up, it'll be our last chance to ask Doctor Perez the pup's sex and designation. Baxter's been dropping hints, trying to gauge my feelings on the matter, but the truth is … I actually don't want to know. I'd rather prove to myself, and the pup, that I love them no matter who or what they are.

Besides, I'll be meeting them soon enough.

Right as I have this thought, my stomach gives a low cramp. I frown.

That's new.

It keeps going, reaching a small peak that makes me clench. I rub around the ache, my hips instinctively swirling some more.

Of course, this is the moment my head alpha comes to check on me.

Baxter notes my phone first, making sure I'm done talking to Flora. Then he marks my expression.

"Omega?" He kneels down in front of me. "You hurting?"

I smile wearily. "Just a little."

"Muscle pain?" He asks, rubbing my thigh. "Maybe the ball isn't helping out like Marcus hoped."

"No." I slowly release my breath. "It's actually more like a cramp, like I'm about to start my period. But not, obviously."

Baxter's amber eyes flash—I can't tell if he's excited or afraid. He whips out his phone. "When did the pain start?"

"Uh … right before you came in."

He opens up a stopwatch and hits the button. "On a scale of one to ten?"

"Not even a two. What are you timing?"

"Contractions."

My heart stops. The shock is so ear-ringingly severe, I don't even register the pain anymore. " What ?"

"False ones, probably, but still—means things are happening." He quirks his brow. "Is it fading away yet?"

"What?" I ask again.

Baxter presses ‘stop' on the timer, making me feel like I can finally relax. He moves both hands up to my stomach and gently soothes the bump. "Sorry, little one. I guess I got a little over-excited."

I almost laugh. "Y–yeah." In the biggest character deviation of the century , I resist adding. Baxter's normally so level-headed. He barely ever gets excited, let alone over- excited. All the extra reading he's taken from Marcus must really be getting him in the birthing headspace.

"I'm sorry if I freaked you out," he says. "It just occurred to me—that was probably your first one, wasn't it?"

I nod. "It wasn't terrible, though."

"I'm glad." It's his turn to take a breath. "You feel like it might happen again?"

"I don't know," I say honestly. Should I be wanting it to happen again? Or maybe that's the last thing I should want. "But I think I'd like to get up now."

Baxter hesitates, clearly not a fan of the idea of having me on my feet. He eventually relents, lifting me off the yoga ball. My lower back gripes angrily. At first I think it's just regular muscle strain, but then I realize.

"Oh. It's happening again."

Take two: Baxter frantically grasping his phone and re-starting the timer. "You okay?" He demands. "Is it worse than before?"

"It's the same." I grimace. "Two. Maybe three."

" Three ?"

"I think it's because I got off the ball." Pressure is returning to my hips with savage earnest, making everything clench up that bit tighter.

Instantly, Baxter tries to sit me back down.

"It's fine," I tell him, embarrassed by my sharp tone. "Just give me a minute, okay?"

"Of course. Whatever you want."

We reposition so his arms are around my waist, lightly digging his palms into my sides, expertly countering the pressure.

"Mm …" I smile. "Thank you. That's nice."

"I'm glad."

"I think it's stopping, by the way."

He hits the timer and returns his arms to my sides, massaging gently. "You were great, little one."

I blush. "All I did was snap at you."

"You told me what was going on, and how to help you." He lifts my chin, kissing me on the lips. "I'm so proud."

Well, he has only himself and Marcus to thank for that. These last few weeks of Lamaze sessions have basically been glorified speech therapy—showing me how to assert my needs without hesitation or shame.

Even knowing this, my inner omega glows. Head alpha thinks we did a good job. Thinks we'll do a good job with the pup , she gloats.

I rest my head against Baxter's chest.

Yeah, I let myself smile. I guess he does.