I don’t even know what that means. Is heart-syncing supposed to mean something? It was just a…a weird, biological fluke. There’s no point in putting metaphors onto biology.
But even as I shake myself out of those thoughts, as Rowan sits comfortably and wriggles his bare, green little toes in my face as he awaits his socks and shoes, I already know I don’t even believe that our heartbeats were a fluke.
Forty-one years on this earth, and I’ve never once heard of heartbeats synchronizing.
I don’t want to think about it, and I blow out a frustrated breath as I shove Ro’s socks on and ready his shoes.
Ella, don’t you dare betray me now, Gracie’s voice suddenly says in my head, and I can’t help but feel both annoyed and amused at my own brain processing this situation via my older sister. Why are you ignoring everything he said and pretending like he’s an ex-husband you need to work your life around, all of a sudden?
But I’m not doing that. I said I was open to a relationship, I just don’t want to force it. I didn’t say no, damn it.
I mean, I didn’t say yes, either, but I just need to think. That’s all I need, a little time to really think this through.
This all keeps changing so suddenly. After agreeing to giving him everything,and then having it all taken away from me again in less than twelve hours, I got a bit spooked. Understandably so, right? Come on, who would blame me for wanting to weigh up the options? No-one.
He made it clear he wants more than just a co-parenting setup, Pretend-Grace says with a haughty raise of her imagined eyebrow. He wants forever, dummy. Isn’t that what you said you wanted, too?
But that’s the thing, isn’t it? He’s backflipped so many times in such a short span of time, how am I supposed to know which version of him I should believe in? Trust my whole life and my children with? What if I make the wrong decision again, I need to take this slow, I need to be smart and considered. That’s reasonable.
I scowl, annoyed at brain-Grace for not seeing things from my perspective, even though she is literally me and just a figment of my imagination.
You were chasing him just the other day, and now you’re running. Just like always, you see the first sign that someone might be interested in anything even half-way serious, and poof. You find the first excuse to disappear.
I finish tying off Rowan’s little sneakers, and pop him down on the ground, noticing as I look around that Rylah has run off again.
“Ry, baby, come let mommy put your shoes on so we can go to the park!”
“Park!” she squeaks happily from somewhere downstairs, possibly the playroom, and I scoop up her shoes and make my way there.
“Come here, honey…”
“Park! Park!”
Her footsteps slap against the floor as she giggles, running in the opposite direction from me, and I sigh. Why is she always fighting against the things that she wants?
My footsteps falter for a second, as pretend-Grace’s face appears in my brain fully formed, with the most ironic expression plastered across it. I wave my hand in the air before me as if I could wave her out of my imagination and continue forward with determined steps.
I’m not running away from what I want. I won’t repeat past mistakes. I’m just…
I’m just thinking.
I’m allowed to think, damn it.
***
The sun casts a warm glow over the park on the outskirts of Boise National Park, much further down from where our lodge is being built, and I sit and watch the twins make a mess of themselves in the sand pit with a smile on my face. Rylah is waddling about with unbridled energy, laughing and chasing after a fluffy gray wolf-boy who makes the most adorable little howls of joy every time she manages to bowl him over. Rowan is more reserved, content to explore the sand and discover the different textures around him, all while keeping a watchful gaze on his sister and the kids around him.
Such a protective little boy, I wonder if he gets that from his father.
I wonder if Rhokar would be like that with us—quiet, calm, and watchful—or if he’s secretly a lot more like Rylah and would be the type of dad to roll around in the dirt with his kids.
The thought brings a pang of longing to my chest, and I don’t even know why. He’s quite literally due to be here soon. I’m about to find out. And what’s more, I’m going to see it firsthand for the rest of my children’s development. No matter what happens between us, I know in my heart that Rhokar will always, always be present. I know it with such strength, with such finality and confidence, that it should shock me.
But it doesn’t, because it’s simply so obvious. Rhokar will never leave us.
My heart gives a resounding tug, as if agreeing conclusively with that thought, and the feel of the physical pull in my chest sends a flutter of something like fear through my stomach, even as the rest of my body warms.
“Jeez,” I whisper to myself, curling my fingers into the bench beneath me. I really, really don’t want to think about the whole Fated Mates thing right now. I have so many other factors to consider…