Page 20 of Freeing My Alpha

“You’re giving me cute aggression,” Noah growls. He squeezes me hard, and I bust out laughing. “Teach me something about parenting, Miss Matsuoka. Please. Before I eat you.”

I laugh even harder, digging my nose into his mark until he squirms away from me. We meet eyes with beaming smiles and bright red cheeks, and I love every second of it. I feel so wholly present.

My voice comes out shy and shaky. “Actually, I do have a few books about a few different parenting styles.”

Noah’s eyes widen. “Shit, see? There are styles? With definitions?”

I laugh, kissing his cheek. “Yeah, but I— Um— We don’t have to strictly use any of them.” My heart flutters, still so unaccustomed to discussing this possibility with a partner. I can feel Noah’s pointed stare on my cheek, but I unruffle my button-up, standing from his lap. “But defining each style was helpful for me to categorize different belief systems in my head. I already know I work better with a goal in mind, so I like to pull my favorite morals from each style to create my own personal style— For teaching, at least. I can show you my favorite books.”

Noah stands, straightening above me in excitement. “Wait, what do you mean by a goal? A goal about how to act as you teach them, or what morals to teach them?”

I clasp my hands, working out my thumb in an attempt to cope with Noah’s gorgeous stare. Is it just me, or is he as excited as I am about having a baby? God, is this real? I’m not used to being this happy.

Shit, what did he ask me?

I clear my throat. “Sort of both. My goals are focused on what I’d like to teach kids about the world. I want to show up for them with compassion and my own morals to help them through life.”

Noah’s pure, grinning excitement melts into something new that I can’t name. Heated, pointed stares roam across my body. “Show me.”

Taking Noah’s hand, I can’t stop myself from grinning as I guide him to my bedroom bookcase. He joins me on the carpet, grabbing each book from my hands as I continue to pull them out—until we’re left with a giant stack that has Noah chuckling beneath his breath.

When I meet his eyes, he’s beaming. “I had no idea you had so many parenting books.”

My heart flips at his soft, delighted murmurs. I shuffle through my bookcase, unable to hold eye contact as I gather the two remaining titles. “W-well, part of it was for teaching.”

“No, don’t hide your excitement. I love it. You’re about to kill me with how fucking cute you are right now.”

I laugh, dropping my portion of the stack onto the bed. Once we have them all spread out between us, we sit facing each other on my unmade blankets.

But I don’t have to hand Noah the books that matter most; he rifles through the stack, pinpointing the one with a thick bundle of sticky tabs poking from the pages.

My heart pounds into my ears. It’s a book by one of my favorite Early Childhood professors, detailing how to raise kids with full belief in kids’ intentions to be good. That when they’re “bad,” it’s a sign they need support meeting one or more basic needs.

But before Noah opens the book, I put my hand over the cover. Noah looks up, surprised.

“I don’t want to push my ideologies on you,” I say. “I had plenty of time to research this, so please, don’t feel like you have to copy me or decide this right away.”

“But these are the ones that sound the best to you, right?”

When I nod, Noah bites back a smile.

“Then I really want to know what you think sounds good. I trust your judgment.”

The silence burns between us.

Until Noah sets the book aside. “Here’s a better idea: how about you tell me what goals you have in mind, instead? And I can tell you what I want to be like as a parent too— Or, well, I might have a clearer idea of what I don’t want to do.”

My heart flips. “Okay.”

We shuffle our sitting positions, facing each other with straightened, alert backs.

But neither of us speaks. We break into sudden, blushing laughter, and Noah buries his face in the hand I left on my knee.

“I-I’ll start,” he mutters into the back of my hand.

My eyebrows raise. I thought I’d have to be the one to get my shy Alpha to speak after I took my turn, but his wolf paces in our bond, preparing himself to be vulnerable with me.

“All I know is, I d-don’t want to ever, ever hit my kids. I don’t even want to yell at them. I guess if I had to sum it up, I-I don’t want to believe it’s my job to scare them into behaving.”

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