Page 83 of Mating Mia
Kane gives me a curious look but nods, settling Ash against his chest. “Everything okay?”
“Fine,” I say, too quickly. “Just need a minute.”
I turn and climb the stairs before he can question me further, my heart pounding with a mixture of hope and apprehension. In the bathroom, I rummage through the cabinet until I find what I’m looking for- a pregnancy test, purchased weeks ago in anticipation of my next heat.
The main bathroom is cool and spacious, the air conditioner humming steadily overhead.
My hands tremble as I read the instructions, though I know them by heart. Pee on the stick. Wait three minutes—two lines for pregnant, one line for not.
Simple, straightforward, but extremely life-changing.
I pull down my underwear, noting the sticky evidence of my heat still clinging to my thighs. The sight makes me blush, remembering the way Finn had spread me wide for Kane, theway Jace had licked me clean afterward, the way they’d all taken turns filling me until I’m moaning and gasping all their names.
The plastic test is cool against my skin as I position it beneath me. I know it’s probably too early—my heat only ended yesterday, and most tests need at least a week to detect the pregnancy hormone.
But I can’t wait. I need to know.
After peeing on the stick, I throw the cap on and set it on the counter as I wash my hands.
The three-minute wait stretches into an eternity. I pace the bathroom, counting tiles, examining my reflection in the mirror—anything to distract myself from the test sitting innocently on the marble countertop.
My reflection shows a woman I’m still getting used to.
My hair is longer now, falling in waves past my shoulders. My body has softened since Ash’s birth, my hips wider, my breasts fuller. I look... healthy. Happy. Loved.
Finally, unable to wait any longer, I pick up the test with shaking hands.
One line. Not pregnant.
I stare at it, willing a second line to appear, but the test remains stubbornly negative. Disappointment crashes through me, sharp and bitter. Logically, I know it’s probably too early to test; I should wait a week or more before trying again. But the sight of that single line feels like a personal failure.
Tears prick at my eyes as I turn the test in different angles of the light for that second line.
Giving up, I wrap the test in toilet paper, burying it deep in the trash can where the alphas won’t see it. They’ve been so excited, so sure that this heat would result in another cub, talking about names and nursery colors and how Ash will be the best big brother. I can’t bear to see the disappointment intheir eyes, not when they’ve given me everything I never knew I wanted.
I splash cold water on my face, erasing the evidence of tears, and take a deep breath. It’s fine. It’s early. We can try again.
Kane
Ash squirms in my arms, a little grunt of impatience escaping him. He’s teething, with swollen and sore gums, making him crankier than usual. I press a kiss to his forehead, inhaling his sweet baby scent, and close the front door.
“Where’s your mama, pup?” I ask, more to myself than to him. Mia had disappeared upstairs several minutes ago, mentioning something about freshening up.
But she should have returned by now.
The house is quiet, save for the distant sound of the television in the den, where Jace is likely sprawled across the couch, feet propped on the coffee table despite my repeated warnings about the finish. Finn is probably in his workshop, carving another woodland creature for Ash’s growing collection.
I shift Ash to my other hip and make my way toward the den, sure enough finding Jace exactly as I’d pictured him, eyes fixed on some action movie, remote balanced on his stomach.
“Take the baby,” I say, already lowering Ash into his arms before he can protest. “I need to check on Mia.”
Jace adjusts seamlessly, tucking Ash against his chest with practiced ease. For all his wild energy and impulsiveness, he’s a natural with our son, patient and gentle in ways that still surprise me.
“Everything okay?” he asks, eyes narrowing slightly as he picks up on my concern.
I shrug, unwilling to voice my unease just yet. “Probably. She went upstairs a while ago and hasn’t come back down.”
Jace nods, immediately understanding. Our bond with Mia goes beyond the physical—we feel her moods, sense her needs, know when something is off even before she does.
