Page 24 of Jacked-up Mate
“No. Our pup is almost here. I can feel it.”
I couldn’t help but feel a tinge of guilt about him turning down the midwife tonight, being a full moon. Within the next hour or so, I was going to be donning my pumpkin head again. Part of me feared Foster was trying to protect me by keeping the midwife away.
“Are you sure? I can stay inside if you think it’s an issue—”
“This has nothing to do with that,” he snapped, and before I could double-check or ask for clarification, he bent over and cried out in pain.
His wolf was so close, I could scent it—and I was human.
“Looks like they’re not waiting,” he said, and got on his hands and knees.
Then it hit. Full-on contractions, one after another.
I knew about human pregnancies. I didn’t know about wolf ones. It felt like it was coming too hard, too fast. Later, when we talked to the midwife, I learned it was because his wolf had been trying to protect him from the pain. That’s why only his back had hurt. He’d already been in labor for over twenty-four hours.
My poor mate. At least he hadn’t felt it, not fully.
The crying and contractions came harder and faster as the clock ticked on. He switched from hands and knees to his back, to his side, and back again. As the sun went down, he screamed that it burned and it was time to push.
I’d taken the lessons from the midwife. I knew what to do, the steps, anyway, but being there, seeing him in so much pain,knowing that I was responsible for helping deliver our baby…I was so not ready.
Our pup didn’t care.
Just as the sun was setting, I helped guide our son into the world. I was holding him, wrapping him in a blanket, when my body took on the curse, and I was wearing my jack-o’-lantern head again.
“He got to meet you both,” my mate said breathlessly, rolling off the blanket. “I’ll be right back.”
He shifted into his wolf form and padded over to our baby, licking the bottom of his foot before returning to the blanket and shifting back.
“Sorry,” he panted. “I needed to heal, and my wolf needed out.”
I handed our son to him. Foster brought the baby to his chest for his first meal while I swapped out the blankets and grabbed my mate some pajama pants.
We lay outside for a long time, just the three of us.
“What do you think we should name him?” I asked, looking down at his sweet face.
“I was thinking maybe Grayson,” I said after a moment. “Because he’s our son of the gray wolf.”
Foster blinked up at me, trying to decide if that was cheesy or genius.
“We could call him Gray,” I offered.
“Fine,” he said with a tired smile. “Not fine. I like it. A lot.”
“Welcome, Gray. Welcome to Whisper Grove.” I smiled down at him, my heart bursting. “This is your dad.”
My mate looked up, teary-eyed, voice full of pride. “Yeah, I’m your dad and this is your father. We’re so glad to meet you.”
Epilogue
Foster
“It’s festival night.” I singsonged softly to our son as I got him dressed. He’d just woken up from a good nap and was all smiles. I might be biased, but he was the cutest, smartest, sweetest baby in the entire world.
It wasn’t unusual for the town to have a festival. It was sort of their thing. But this one was special; it was the first one that Grayson, Jack, and I would go to as a family.
Unfortunately, quite a few of them landed on the full moon, intentionally, of course, but that was still a little problematic for our family. Even if my mate felt comfortable with the entire town and guests gawking at his jack-o’-lantern head, it wasn’t comfortable. His head was heavy like that, and chilling at home was one thing, wandering around booths another.
