Page 176 of King Luna

I weep over box after box of my parents’ things, go rigid with disgust at the flashbacks crossing my mind as I pack my room, and sigh in relief when Noah hires someone to safely transport my mom’s favorite rose bush for me.

Just before we drive away, an Omega just as pregnant as I am pulls up behind us, her legs straining to hoist herself out of the car. Two little Lycans hop out after her, climbing up the porch, cheering, “Mom, Mom! Look! It’s blue!”

As the exhausted Omega mother caresses the soft blue paint we refinished, her relieved smile heals a piece of me I didn’t know was still so raw.

No matter what I tell myself as we back out of the driveway, I’m still hit with a stinging fear that I’ve made a drastic mistake.What if I failed somehow in treatment, and I should just suck it up and live with the memories in that cottage?

But as Noah and I pull up to our new home, it’s all worth it.

Tall, protective evergreens coat every corner of our new plot of land, the remaining space blanketed with a rolling clover field and an empty garden for me to fill. The house is earthy and gorgeous, its stained wood warming the gray skies above the towering trees. We have a cute white porch, and dirt beds big enough to fit not only Mom’s favorite rose but dozens of my own new plants and trees. There’s even a perfect tree for a swing, once Little Wolf gets older.

We’re moved in within a mere two hours, every friend and friend of a friend pitching in to help out—and banning me from doing anything but resting on our new porch’s rocking chair.

Grateful doesn’t begin to describe how I feel for all of it: the house, the support, and the love that brought us here.

I can’t pretend my heart doesn’t still sting, letting go of that old cottage.

In my heart, I know the logical truth: Dad literally wrote in his will that he wanted the cottage to be an investment for me and his future grandkids, and I should use it or sell it however I please to make ends meet. This is what he and Mom wanted. They’dadorethis home Noah and I found, tucked in an even safer Greenfield Forest sanctuary, now that I’m part of Greenfield Pack too.

But the second I find Noah in the empty, extra bedroom of our new home, opening the box to our baby’s new crib, my eyes burn hot. Maybe it should’ve been obvious, but with so many worries consuming my focus, the best part of today hadn’t hit me until now; releasing the cottage also made space for something new. Someone new.

Noah does a double-take, startled by my sudden sniffles. Then he smiles, hopping to his feet to pull me into his arms. “You have to wait to cry until I’m done building it.”

I blubber out a laugh, and Noah chuckles, kissing my head.

“Well, and after we’ve painted the clouds on the ceiling like we talked about, added that squishy rocking chair... Oh, and I can go grab the squishy rug for under our feet as we cradle this one, right here.”

Sweeping his hands down my belly, Noah pulls another giggling sniffle out of me. I nuzzle into him. “I love you. I’m so excited for your baby to arrive.”

“Me too, King Luna. I love you both so much.”

I can’t stop smiling as I work alongside Noah, primping and prepping the nursery as I let my nesting wolf go wild.

Until there’s one more nursery box.

Noah stoops over it, knife at the ready. “Do you want me to help you unpack this one while you rest? You can boss me around—tell me where to put stuff.”

Glancing at the writing in permanent marker on the side of the box, I tighten in dread. But I do my best to give Noah a quick smile.

“Oh, no thanks. I’ll do it later.”

Noah searches my eyes, but I can’t bear to look at him. I don’t want to cry again. Not now. I’m afraid I won’t be able to get anything else done.

As our bond wobbles with my rising grief, Noah gives me a soft smile. “Okay, sweet Omega. I’m going to see if there’s anything else I can unpack in the kitchen while we wait for our food to be delivered.”

I sigh in relief; Noah leaves the box untouched for me, even though I can feel his heart aching in response to mine. But I’m not ready to face that box yet. I wait until I’m alone—after we’vesaid our goodbyes to all our generous friends, started our new dishwasher, and Noah has hopped into the shower.

Padding down the hallway’s hardwood floors in my fluffy socks, I stop in the nursery doorway, patting its unfamiliar wall all over until I can find the lightswitch. A soft lamp flickers to life in the corner, its gentle glow a warm yellow that soothes my tired eyes.

Running my fingertips along the railing of the crib, my stomach fills with butterflies, imagining how soon they’ll be nestled up in here—until Little Wolf stirs. I smile, swirling my fingertips around my belly until they wiggle against my palms, saying hello despite how cramped they’re becoming. Closing my eyes, I rock side to side, simply holding them.

“This is going to be where you’ll sleep,” I whisper. “Your dad will probably love snuggling you, though, so you might not sleep in here too often.”

Little Wolf settles beneath my hands, and I sigh, gripping my aching back. Without daring to bend over, I scoot the last box with my foot. Shoving it over toward the mint green, plushy rocking chair in the corner, I grip my belly, easing myself into the cozy new chair with a slow exhale.

But as I pry open the box at my feet, my heart hammers wildly.

Mom’s keepsakes: for baby Aliya

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