Page 41 of Mating Mia
Mia
Ihold up a tiny blue onesie decorated with cartoon wolves, my fingers tracing the embroidered paw prints while my mind is a thousand miles away.
The department store around us bustles with weekend shoppers, but I barely register them, too consumed by thoughts of a dark-haired woman giving birth alone on the side of a road, of her hazel eyes—my eyes—wide with terror as she handed her newborn to a stranger.
My son kicks inside me, as if sensing my distraction, and I place the onesie in our already overflowing cart with mechanical movements.
“What do you think about this one?” I ask Kane, holding up a miniature plaid shirt that would make our son look like a lumberjack in training.
It’s adorable, but I’m asking more to break the heavy silence of our thoughts than to get his actual opinion.
Kane examines it with the same intense focus he applies to everything, from hunting threats to selecting baby clothes.
“Good quality,” he determines after rubbing the fabric between his fingers. “Practical for autumn.”
I add it to our growing collection, my hands moving on autopilot while my thoughts remain tangled in Larissa’s revelations. I select a pack of tiny socks, each pair patterned with different animal prints, and toss them into the cart.
“What do you think about Larissa’s story?” I finally ask, unable to contain the questions that have been swirling in my mind since we left her house. “About my mother, I mean.”
Kane’s hand settles on the small of my back, warm and steady.
“I think she was running from something serious,” he says, his voice low enough that only I can hear him. “No woman gives birth on the side of a road unless she’s desperate.”
“She must have been terrified,” I murmur, picking up a stuffed wolf that makes me think of my alphas in their shifted forms. Our son will have that ability too—the thought still amazes me daily. “To be alone, pregnant, hunted...”
“There must be a reason why your mother was outside and giving birth instead of in a hospital or at home,” Kane says, his brow furrowing. “Something or someone forced her into that situation.”
The pieces click together in my mind, my father’s fragmented stories aligning with what we learned from Larissa.
“My dad told me that was the night that Orion’s pack raided their home,” I say, my voice catching. “The night that my other fathers died trying to protect my mom.”
I stop in the middle of the baby section, one hand gripping a tiny pair of booties so tightly my knuckles turn white. The reality of what my family endured crashes over me with new clarity.
“She was running for her life,” I continue, tears threatening to spill over. “Pregnant, just hours from giving birth, and she had to watch her mates die defending her. She probably ran into the woods, went into labor from the stress and trauma, and ended up delivering me on the side of some road.”
My voice breaks on the last word, and suddenly Jace is there, pulling me into his arms right between the diaper display and the baby monitors. I bury my face against his chest, inhaling his comforting rain-scent as tears spill down my cheeks.
“It’s okay, princess,” he murmurs into my hair, one hand rubbing soothing circles on my back. “Let it out.”
“She lost everything in one night,” I sob, my words muffled against his shirt. “Her mates, her home, and then she had to give me up, too. She’s been alone all this time, Jace. All this time.”
Jace holds me tighter, seemingly unconcerned about the curious glances from other shoppers who were probably wondering why a pregnant woman was crying while holding baby clothes.
“But she survived,” he reminds me gently. “She’s still out there. And we’re going to find her. Liam is sure she’s alive.”
I pull back slightly, wiping my tears with the back of my hand.
“Ifshe’s still alive,” I say, the doubt I’ve been fighting finally voicing itself. “If Orion didn’t find her after all these years.”
“I think she is,” Finn says, appearing beside us with an armful of diapers that he adds to our cart. His green eyes are unusually soft as they meet mine. “Think about it—Orion was looking for both of you. If he’d found and killed her, why keep searching? Why keep your father prisoner all those years, demanding information about where she went?”
His logic penetrates my emotional fog, offering a ray of hope I hadn’t considered.
“You’re right,” I admit, sniffling. “If she were dead, Liam would have known somehow. Through the mate bond breaking, maybe.”
“It would be so amazing if you actually met your mother,” Finn continues, his typically stoic expression warmed by the hint of a smile. “To have both your parents in your life.”
“I would love that,” I say, smiling through the tears. “To have them both around, even though I hadn’t known them my entire life. For our son to know his grandparents.”
