Page 64 of Fat Forced Mate

When I open my eyes again, Nic is watching me with an intensity that makes me want to look away. But I hold his gaze, aware that we've reached some kind of crossroads.

"How long have I been asleep?" I ask.

"About eighteen hours. It's afternoon now." He shifts in the chair, wincing slightly. An injury I can't see, probably worse than he's letting on. "You needed the rest. The amount of magic you channeled..."

He trails off, looking down at our still-joined hands. A question hangs unasked between us, heavy with implication.

"I should have told you," I whisper, answering what he hasn't yet found the courage to ask. "About the baby."

His thumb strokes across my knuckles, a gentle back-and-forth that seems unconscious. "Why didn't you?"

The simple question holds no accusation, just a genuine desire to understand. I find myself wanting to answer with equal honesty.

"I was afraid." I look down at my free hand, still resting protectively over my still-flat abdomen. "Not of you, exactly. Of... everything. Of history repeating itself."

Nic's eyes cloud with confusion, then understanding. "You thought I'd reject the child. Like the pack rejected you. Like I rejected you five years ago."

"I didn't know what to think," I admit. "I've spent five years building a life away from here, convincing myself I was better off without Silvercreek, without..." I swallow. "Without you. Then suddenly I'm back, pregnant with a baby who'll be exactly what I am—half shifter, half-witch—and facing all the same prejudices that made my childhood hell."

Nic flinches slightly at my words, but doesn't interrupt.

"I wasn't ready to face your reaction," I continue, the words spilling out now that I've started. "To watch you decide whether your duty to the pack outweighed whatever you might feel about our child. So I just... kept it to myself until I could figure out what to do."

Silence follows my confession. Nic's expression is unreadable as he processes my words. Finally, he releases my hand, and I feel a cold emptiness where his warmth had been. But then he stands, moving to the edge of the bed.

"Can I sit with you?" he asks quietly. "Not in this torture device they call a chair?"

I nod, shifting slightly to make room. The movement sends a twinge of pain through my back where the Cheslem wolf kicked me, but I hide my wince. Nic notices anyway, his movements careful as he settles beside me on the narrow bed, keeping a respectful few inches between us.

"I've made a lot of mistakes, Luna," he begins, his voice low and serious. "Five years ago, I chose what I thought was my duty over what I knew in my heart was right. I let my father's expectations and pack politics dictate my actions, and I hurt you in the process." He meets my eyes directly. "It was the biggest mistake of my life, and I've regretted it every day since."

The raw honesty in his voice catches me off guard. This is not the diplomatic Alpha speaking, but the man—the one I glimpsed in private moments before everything fell apart.

"When you left Silvercreek," he continues, "something in me broke. I told myself it was for the best, that you deserved better than a life of sideways glances and whispered comments. But the truth is, I was a coward. I didn't fight for you because I was afraid to challenge the system I'd been raised to inherit."

"You were twenty," I say softly, surprised to find myself offering him grace I'd withheld for years. "With a thousand years of pack tradition on your shoulders."

"That's no excuse." He shakes his head. "I knew what was right. I just didn't have the courage to do it." His hand moves tentatively toward mine, pausing just short of touching. "Then you came back, and something in me recognized the second chance, even if I didn't know how to take it."

I look down at his outstretched hand, then slowly place mine in it. His fingers curl around mine, warm and steady.

"When I saw you pinned beneath that Cheslem Alpha," he says, voice dropping to a near-whisper, "I thought I'd lost my chance forever. And when you cried out about the baby..." He draws a shaky breath. "In that moment, everything became crystal clear. Nothing matters more to me than you and our child. Not the pack, not tradition, not anything."

"Nic..." I begin, not sure what to say.

"I understand why you didn't tell me," he interrupts gently. "I'd given you no reason to trust me with something so precious. But Luna—" His free hand moves hesitantly toward my stomach, hovering questioningly. "—I want to be worthy of that trust now."

I nod wordlessly, guiding his hand to rest against my abdomen. Something shifts in his expression as he makes the connection—physical proof of the child we've created.

"I can feel it," he murmurs, wonder in his voice. "Not movement, but... something. A signature, like your magic, but different. Ours."

The simple word—ours—unlocks something I've kept carefully guarded since returning to Silvercreek. Tears, well, unexpectedly, spilling down my cheeks before I can stop them.

"Hey," Nic says softly, alarmed. His hand leaves my stomach to cup my cheek, thumb brushing away tears. "What's wrong?"

"I never thought this would be possible," I admit, voice catching. "Coming back here, I expected rejection, not... this. Whatever this is."

"This," he says carefully, "is me trying to show you I've changed. That I want to build something real with you—not because of pack law or the lottery or even the baby, but because you're Luna Morgan, and I've never stopped—"

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