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MATEO

I stared at the box sitting on the counter. I didn’t know why I kept doing this to myself. All it did was lead to heartache each and every month.

Why wasn’t I the mate Colton deserved? Why? He wanted to settle down and have a family, and we’d managed to do the settling down part fine. The family part? That was another thing.

Month after month, it was heartache. Both his and mine.

Which was why, this time, I wasn’t telling him about the test. He didn’t need to hold the sorrow. I could do that for him. It was one way I could be strong enough.

At our last appointment, the doctor advised us to, “Stop trying and relax,” because that would somehow magically make things work so I’d get pregnant. He cited all sorts of anecdotal bullshit. But that was all it was. He had no answers. None.

Even if he said, “Sorry. It’s not going to happen,” that would be something. It would gut me, but I could deal with it andmove along. But now? Now we faced a long drawn-out torturous journey, and not trying wasn’t the solution.

“Okay.” I picked up the box. “Here goes.”

I ripped it open, took out the stick, and peed on it. I didn’t need to read the instructions. I’d been doing this for more months than I could count and oftentimes repeatedly to check there hadn’t been a mistake. I knew which tests showed up in which color, the ones that were digital, and which one would go on sale next. We’d discovered there was a sale rotation of pregnancy tests.

Slipping the cap off the tip, I set it on the counter and shut my eyes tight. Watching wouldn’t make the results any different, but it could give me false hope that something was changing when it wasn’t. I’d been down that road. It sucked.

“One. Two. Three,” I counted slowly. I needed to get to one hundred eighty and then add twenty more because I never timed it right. I hated that I knew exactly how many numbers I needed to recite to reach three minutes. It was 100 percent indicative of how many times I’d done this.

Being hyper focused on the counting did two things. It helped me keep my eyes shut, not needing to look at the countdown on my stopwatch, and it gave me something to focus on that wasn’t the result.

I finished counting, turned around to put the shower on then braced myself. The spray would drown out my tears when they came. And my gut said they would come.

I picked up the test, happy it was a digital one and I wouldn’t have to play the Do I see a line? game.

“Not pregnant.” The words slammed into me. I’d known it was coming. Nothing about my body felt different. I’d wanted it so badly…so badly I…I couldn’t breathe.

The test fell from my hand and clattered to the floor, tears sliding over my cheeks.

I couldn’t let him hear. Colton didn’t need to pick up the pieces again. The pieces of me. He’d been so patient, pushing back his own sorrow and disappointment every time in order to be the supportive mate I needed. I couldn’t ask him to do it again.

The steam from the shower covered the mirror. At least I didn’t have to witness my failure reflected back at me. Why was my body so broken…so flawed?

I swatted the shower curtain back and stepped inside. Not bothering to remove my clothes, my body crumpled, and I collapsed onto the floor of the tub.

I needed a good cry. That would make things better—make it so I could face him again with my slapped-on smile and my faux optimism firmly in place.

If only it were summertime, when the B&B was full. Dealing with the guests was more than a full-time job, and we didn’t have a moment to sit, much less wallow in self-pity.

But it was winter, and reservations were nonexistent. It was just the two of us in a big old building with the winds roaring outside and not enough repair projects to fill our day.

In another month, we had a film crew booked in. They’d be filming some reality show, so that was something. They would have us running back and forth meeting their requests for extratowels and helping them with directions. I had to hold on until then…next month would be easier.

I sobbed, my shoulders heaving, and I let the hot water mask the sound until the spray turned tepid and then cold. I let it flow over me even as the water stung. It was good to feel something unconnected to my failure as an omega, even if it was painful. My skin numbed as the effect of the freezing water dulled my senses.

And then the water shut off. Only I didn’t turn it off.

It was Colton—my mate.

“Oh, sweetie, why didn’t you call me?” He held his hand out, and I grasped it. It was my lifeline. “Why?”

I didn’t respond, instead allowing him to help me up.

He undressed me, wrapped my body in a towel and then brought me into our bedroom and placed me gently on the bed. He climbed in beside me and pulled the covers over us.