Page 26 of Autumn After

There were actually four bags of baby supplies and one of them already ripping through. I managed to bring them all in with one trip. By the time I set them down, Willow was already in the shower. I didn’t think much of it, until I grabbed the clothes he had left on the bathroom floor—and realized they were wet.

“Not Braxton Hicks?”

“No. Stupid water breaking,” he barked back. “Now I have to tell your sister she was right.”

I tried really hard not to laugh, but I couldn’t help myself. “I’ll call the midwife.”

“You’d better mean by phone, because if you leave this house, so help me, Goddess—”

“I promise I’m not leaving.” Like I could if I wanted to. My wolf was not up for that.

I stepped into the other room and called the midwife. Fern, who had been waiting on the steps, came inside.

“He might think you are annoying, but you sure are a good sister.”

“Yeah, I have my moments.” She shrugged.6

When Willow came out of the bathroom, his contractions had started to pick up. Shortly after, the midwife arrived. He examined my mate and reassured us that everything was normal, saying Willow would probably have the baby before nightfall.

But he was wrong.

My mate was still in labor when the sun rose—after spending the night pacing, crying, sweating as the contractions grew harder and faster. We had tried every possible position, from being on his back to being on all fours. We stopped short of having him stand on his head. I was starting to worry, but the midwife remained calm, explaining that humans were different than wolves and we needed to be patient. We just had to “ride it out.” But I didn’t want to just ride it out—I wanted to take Willow’s pain away and meet our baby already.

It was around seven in the morning when the midwife finally announced that it was time. I helped Willow get on his hands and knees, and I helped hold him up as the midwife encouraged him to push. You’d think that after all he’d been through, this part would be short, but my mate pushed for 45 minutes before we finally heard the most beautiful sound in the world: the cry of our daughter.

I assisted Willow, getting him settled and cleaned up, while the midwife weighed and measured our baby. He then placed her on Willow’s chest for her first drink and excused himself to give us some time together as a family.

I sat behind Willow and our daughter, just staring in awe.

“She’s so beautiful,” I whispered. “So perfect.”

“She really is. What should we call her?” Willow said softly, gazing down at her.

“We never did decide on a name.”

We’d opted to meet our baby before picking a name, as if that would magically make the decision easier. And now the moment had come and no names were coming for me.

Fern poked her head in from the other room. “The baby’s born, right? Can I come in?”

“She’s still here? I was afraid I’d scared her away.” Willow smiled.

“Oh yeah, she’s still here.” I laughed. “We’re pack, Willow. You can’t scare people away. They’re nosy AF, but they’re ours.

We called her to us, and she smiled when she saw our daughter for the first time. “She’s beautiful. Gets it all from you, Willow. What’s her name?”

“We don’t know yet,” I admitted.

“Well, you’ve got two trees, you might as well have a third.” She sat on the edge of the bed.

“What do you mean? Like oak or pine?” Willow wrinkled his nose.

“I was thinking more along the lines of Oakley.”

“Oakley.” I tasted the name on my tongue and glanced at Willow.

“Are you an Oakley?” he asked our daughter who was starting to doze while drinking her milk.

“I like it. Oakley.”

---