Page 47 of Her Shifter Babe

What the fuck is this, then?

“But I didn’t...”

“You did!” my brother growled at me. “What would you call it? You basically said she got pregnant by her ex, then tried to fob the baby off on us. You implied she was some kind of cunning bitch, and you know that’s the damn furthest thing from what she is! She’s our damned sunshine, David.”

My throat tightened and my wolf rose to the surface again, offering me respite from the emotions coursing through me. “I...”

Tommy pushed past me and headed off down the hall. “Just get in there and fix it. I’m not losing my mate because you couldn’t keep your temper under control,” he threw over his shoulder.

I inhaled sharply through my nose and pushed open the door to Stacey’s private room.

She was lying down in her slightly inverted bed wearing a plain, open-backed hospital gown. Her eyes were filled with tears, and she was continually rubbing her belly in circles.

I wasn’t sure if she was trying to calm herself down or the baby, but the frantic energy in the room was electric and not good for her. “How are you doing, sweetheart?” I asked, coughing to clear my throat.

“Um...” she mumbled as she gulped and looked up at the ceiling, avoiding my gaze.

I sat down in the chair opposite the bed, not wanting to upset her anymore than I already had. “I’m so sorry about wolfing out on you, Stacey. I didn’t mean to, I swear. I haven’t lost control like that in, well, ever actually.”

Our parents had taught us early on how to control our shifter, and they were going to kick my ass when they found out what I’d done. I’d compromised our mate by losing control. A pregnant human woman did not need the added stress of discovering wolf shifters out of the blue for the first time when she was already in high-risk territory and had just discovered her ex-husband was stalking her.

She nodded and wiped at the tears on her cheeks, ever the trooper. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not,” I said, crushed by the pain she was so evidently experiencing—and it was all my fault, or at least, a good half of it. “Not what I did and not what I said. I’m really sorry.” How did I explain that I was mortally ashamed of what I’d said and done? How could I convey in mere words that I no longer cared whose baby was in her belly. And all that mattered at all was that she was ours, no matter what.

“I’m grateful for one thing,” she said, though her voice wavered with a note of uncertainty. “Tommy assured me that you guys are strong enough to stop Jamie if he tries to take me. He said you won’t let it happen.”

A growl rolled through my vocal cords which I quickly shook off, slapping my inner wolf down and asserting control. “Sorry. Yes, you’re absolutely right. That asshole isn’t getting within twenty feet of you ever again. We have your back, the entire family.”

She nodded again, offering me a small smile, but she had shut down. She wasn’t about to tell me anything. She was still hurting and not ready to let down her walls again any time soon.

I slid to the edge of my chair and leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees, unwilling to let her lock herself down and shut us out entirely. “Stacey, tell me about your life before us. When did you get married?”

“Ah...” Stacey looked up again, blinking rapidly to clear her eyes of more tears. “You don’t want to hear about my past,” she said quietly.

“I do,” I said. “It’s my fault for not asking before. Tommy knew you’d been married, but I didn’t. I should have laid down proper foundations for us. I should have learned everything there was to know about you. So, please? I want to know you. All of you. The light, the dark, and everything in between.”

She sighed and shifted a little, making herself more comfortable before she spoke. “I filed for divorce a few weeks ago, now, through a lawyer back in California. I imagine he probably found me through all of that.” She shook her head as if she should have known better than to flee a monster and leave behind a necessary paper trail.

I could feel the guilt and blame rolling over her. “He said he’d hire a private detective, if need be,” I said, giving her whatever information I had gleaned from the asshole. “This isn’t your fault. He’s a punk and clearly, he was never going to let you get away without a fight. But you have us, now.”

My mate gulped and sniffed, reaching for the Kleenex box. She looked so fragile and so beautiful, even in her compromised and delicate state.

“Tell me,” I urged. “Anything at all that you think we should know. Tell me everything.”

She blew her nose and heaved herself up to a higher sitting position, which was difficult given the angle of the thing. “Okay... but you aren’t allowed to get mad, okay?”

I can’t promise that.

But I had no choice. I wasn’t going to get the truth out of her unless she trusted me and my word. “Go for it,” I encouraged.

She stared down at her hands for a moment, then started talking. “I studied interior design, barely making ends meet on a scholarship, while also working full time. Both my parents are older, and they never put any money aside for my education. But despite that, I made it on my own. Unfortunately, I happened to meet Jamie one night during my final year. He was charming and had money, and he just kind of... sucked me into this vortex. He proposed after six months, and before I graduated he told me that he didn’t want me to work because he could take care of me.”

She stared down, the red blush of shame coloring her cheeks. “I know it sounds horrible and like a cop out, but after struggling with money my whole life it seemed nice to be looked after; to have someone that even wanted that kind of life for me.”

I clenched my teeth so hard I heard them cracking inside my head. I knew what was coming next, but forced myself to nod. “Go on.”

She shrugged, deflated by the haunting story of her past which was far too typical of many others I’d heard. “We got married and the day I signed that marriage license he immediately started wanting me to change. It was little things at first, like my hair and the way I dressed. Then he didn’t want me going out so much, then he got rid of the cleaner and said it was my job now. To cook, to clean, to keep the house to the level he was accustomed to. And at first, I didn’t mind, I really didn’t. I wanted us to be happy. I wanted to do my part... but nothing I ever did was ever good enough. And I just,” she sighed. “I can’t explain it. It just all went to hell, and before I knew it I was trapped.”

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