Page 30 of The Alpha Grizzly's Mate

I settled Seth into the baby wrap and grabbed my baby bag along with it.

Before I had children, I’d never been one for carrying lots of things, and now it seemed I was a master at carrying all the things. But I discovered very early on that if you didn’t have everything with you, you were going to need literally everything.

If I only brought a diaper and some wipes, there was going to be a blowout, and he’d need new clothes. If I only brought part of a package of wipes, there was going to be a mess that needed the entire thing. If I planned on being back before naptime, he would fall asleep, and I’d need his carrier. Fatherhood was a crash course in being prepared for anything.

I joined the others outside. The den was having an impromptu picnic—the day was gorgeous, and not much needed to be done around the den lands. It was perfect.

There were blankets spread on the ground, a few games on the picnic tables, and a makeshift play area for the kids, including a homemade version of croquet where each of the pegs had a different color, shape, and number. It was one of my brother-in-law’s ways of helping the kids learn their basics, and it was pretty freaking adorable.

Plus, what kid didn’t like hitting balls with hammers? None that I knew of.

“Hey, may I join you?”

Patty patted the blanket, and I sat beside her.

“It’s gonna cost you a tax, though.” She held out grabby hands.

“What do you think, Seth? Should we pay the tax, or should we be tax evaders?” I used the singsong silly voice he loved so much.

“If you want to endure an audit, go for it,” she teased right back as I got him out and handed him to her.

All my fears that she was going to hold me accountable for the death of her mate faded away. She and I got along beautifully, and the kids all considered a grandmother. Levi said he’d never seen her this happy and carefree, and I couldn’t help but wonder how many years she suffered—probably abuse, but also the uncertainty of knowing she had a mate that could get into trouble without even trying.

“I made extra sandwiches,” she said. “I didn’t know if you were going to have time.”

“I didn’t, but I believe Levi said he was going to work on that.” He was a great mate, always ready and willing to give a hand.

She giggled. “Okay, let me rephrase. I made you sandwiches to save you from hisinterestingcombinations.”

I didn’t need to question what she meant by that. She wasn’t wrong, as I knew firsthand. The combinations were ones he loved—and maybe some people did as well—but I was pretty basic. My turkey sandwiches had tomato and mayonnaise. That was it. Anything beyond that was too fancy for my tastebuds.

Levi, however, put an entire salad on his. With dressing. And mustard. To me, that was just a no.

And the different things he put with peanut butter… Basically, if you could spread it on bread, he thought it went with peanut butter. He was wrong.

But I always thanked him and ate it with glee because he was willing to do the cooking, so I could take a nap with the baby or play with the kids. And for that, I was beyond appreciative.

I way lying on my back, letting the sun warm my face, when the phone buzzed in my hip pocket.

Most people here didn’t carry theirs at all, but it was a habit from living in the city.

“I’ll be right back.”

I got up, answering it as I went. It was probably my father. We still didn’t have a good relationship. We never would. But I was trying. I’d sent him baby pictures when Seth was born, and we’d slowly been building our relationship/

Levi and I both felt he deserved the right to know his grandchild, just as much as our son deserved to know his roots.

I wouldn’t let him become part of that world. But, visits? Zooms? Those I could handle.

“Hey, Father. What’s up?”

“What’s up? Is that any way to talk to me?” Unsure if he was joking, I erred on the side of not.

“No, sir. What can I do for you?” Sir felt odd, but it was the default I fell into when he was like this.

“I’m at the edge of your property. I thought maybe it would be a good time to see the baby.” Or maybe he wasn’t “like this” as much as he was nervous.

“Are there guns?” I didn’t know why I asked. There were always guns.

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