Page 78 of Pumpkin Patch Pack
Rowan sets his tablet on the counter and wraps his arms around me from behind, nuzzling into my neck where his claim mark sits. The gentle press of his lips against the sensitive skin sends a pulse of want low in my belly. “How are you feeling today?” he murmurs, his hand splaying protectively over my still-flat stomach.
“No morning sickness yet,” I reply, covering his hand with mine, feeling the warmth of his palm through my thin sweater. “But according to Dr. Mitchell, that might change any day now.”
The pregnancy was unexpected but not unwelcome. We’d planned to wait another year, but my unexpected heat threemonths ago had other ideas. I don’t know which of my mates is the biological father, but it doesn’t matter. This baby will have three devoted fathers and one fiercely loving mother.
“I’m voting for twins,” Theo says, rolling out pie dough. “Or triplets. Balance things out around here.”
“Don’t even joke about that,” I groan. The thought of a large family, of children running through the pumpkin patch, fills me with a joy I never thought possible.
Maple’s insistent bleating suddenly cuts through our domestic scene. I turn to see her in the doorway, her eyes wide, making sounds I’ve never heard from her before.
“Liam?” I call, concern rising as Maple sits awkwardly on the kitchen floor. “Something’s up with Maple.”
Liam is at her side instantly, his large hands gentle as he examines her. His expression shifts from concern to excitement. “It’s happening! She’s in labor!”
The next few hours pass in a blur of activity. Liam takes charge, and his experience with farm animals proves invaluable as he creates a comfortable birthing area in the living room. Rowan calls the vet for advice while Theo runs back and forth with clean towels and warm water. I stay by Maple’s side, stroking her head and murmuring encouragement as she works to bring her babies into the world.
“You’ve got this, troublemaker,” I whisper, wiping her face with a damp cloth. “Just like you’ve handled everything else—with attitude and determination.”
One by one, they arrive: first, a tiny white baby with Maple’s cute expression. The second follows quickly, another white one, but with a small gray patch on its ear. And then, to everyone’s surprise, a third, completely black from head to tail, with bright eyes that seem to take in everything at once.
“Three,” I breathe, watching in wonder as Maple begins cleaning her babies. “She had three.”
“Just like us,” Theo says, squeezing my shoulder. “Three mates for one very special omega.”
“They’re healthy,” Liam confirms after checking each kid carefully. “Strong heartbeats, good lungs.” The black one lets out a surprisingly loud bleat to prove his point.
“Maple 2.0,” Rowan laughs. “Just what we need; another troublemaker.”
We move to the porch swing, leaving Maple to bond with her babies peacefully. My head rests on Rowan’s shoulder, my feet in Theo’s lap, while Liam sits close enough that I can feel his warmth against my side.
“A year ago, I was running,” I say softly. “Afraid of everything. Afraid to trust, to hope, to love.”
“And now?” Theo prompts his fingers, gently massaging my ankle, working out the tension from a day spent on my feet.
I smile, looking out at the farm, our farm.
“Now I’m home,” I say simply. “With my pack. My family.”
Liam’s thumb traces the bond mark where all three left their claim. The touch sends a pulse of connection through our bond. “Forever,” he says, the word a promise.
Rowan kisses my temple, his scent mingling with mine until it’s impossible to tell where he ends and I begin. “Forever,” he echoes, his voice a rumble I feel more than hear.
Theo’s smile is bright enough to rival the setting sun, his eyes crinkling at the corners in the way that never fails to make my heart skip. “Forever and ever,” he adds with a wink that makes me laugh.
I am no longer running from something.
I am running toward everything that matters, with three men who love me unconditionally, a farm that sustains us, and a future brighter than I ever imagined possible.
As the air grows crisp with the promise of autumn, I look forward to the season ahead: to pumpkins and hayrides, hotcider and bonfires, and sharing our home with visitors seeking the joy we’ve found here.
But mostly, I look forward to countless nights like this one, wrapped in the arms of my mates, our bond humming with contentment, our future stretching before us like an endless harvest of happiness.