Page 8 of Knot Your Baby

Harlow’s face goes serious. She covers Jagger’s ears with her hands. “Sarah–Jagger’s Mom...remember?”

My skin prickles with goosebumps. I know she died in childbirth. A shiver runs through my body. But I have no choice but to do this alone.

“Do you want to know who the father is?” Harlow asks, clearly trying to change the subject. “Have you spoken to the Wellness Center?”

I can’t tell her I know and that he wants nothing to do with me. He never has.

“I can’t. They’ll contact the authorities. I had to prove I was on birth control to be admitted there for my heat.”

“Oh shit, Freya.”

“I know, but it seemed like a good idea at the time.” I try to keep my voice even as I lift my chin and stare at the ceiling, feeling tears stinging my eyes again. “He’ll know he’s a dad.”

I made my decision.

“How? You changed your appearance for your heat.”

“I don’t know.”

“Freya—”

“I’m fine. Everything’s fine. Perfect, even.”

“Aunt Freya! Can I lick the spoon?” Jagger’s gray eyes bounce from me to the loaded spoon and bowl.

“You have to ask your mom.”

“Only the spoon,” she tells him because if Jagger gets his way, his head will be in the bowl the moment she says okay.

“Yes!” He hops from foot to foot beside my workstation as I reach for the spoon and hold it in the air. At six years old, everything with a bit of sugar inside it is yummy to him, even brownie batter.

“How about a fresh cookie from the last batch instead?” I don’t want him to get a bad stomach from the raw eggs.

His mouth opens wide as his eyes glance at the large cookies ready to go on display. “Really?”

I force my brightest laugh, the one I’ve perfected over months of pretending.

See? I’m the fun aunt. The happy omega. The successful business owner who has it all together.

And beneath it all, I’m sure I made the right call.

I take the tongs and pick out the biggest one, and the one with the most chocolate chips on the top. I pop it in a bag and hand it to him. “Now sit on the chair and take your time.”

I rub my belly again. “There can’t be any room left to kick me.”

“Can I have a brother?” Jagger asks Harlow. His bright eyes fixed on my stomach.

“Soon,” Harlow calls from where she’s arranging the chairs around tables.

She’s planning to get pregnant during her next heat. Which is another reminder of everything I don’t have—alphas—or a pack.

That’s why I did this alone.

“Yeah. We can share my bedroom.”

My heart clenches as Harlow walks to Jagger and scoops up her son, pressing kisses to his cheeks until he giggles.

She found her pack without trying. In fact, they found her despite her being an alpha. But they knew she was theirs. Now she has four alphas who worship the ground she walks on. Alphas who make sure she lifts nothing heavier than Jagger. A pack who scent-marks her every morning like she’s precious. Like she matters.

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