Page 15 of Watcher's Omega

In the end, that’s exactly what happened. Altogether, the firework attack kept Glenn in the hospital for sixteen nights before my dad declared him healthy enough to shift and go home. Only his home was now our home because the apartment building was still not repaired. There was talk of having to tear the whole thing down and build a new one. I didn’t understand why they couldn’t just fix the top floor but then again, I also didn’t understand why they didn’t know when the doors of life and death were going to pop up.

By the time he was ready to come home, we managed to air out all of his and Eamon’s belongings. We’d set him up a bedroom that Eamon swore was nearly a replica of his old room. We also set up a triple crib nursery because we’d been putting all of our alone time to good use. I’d also convinced Eamon to go to therapy for a tiny bit just to work out any lingering feelings about the firework attack. I was certain my dad would set Glenn up with a good therapist too.

The morning of the day Glenn was being released from the hospital, I woke up to Eamon fleeing from the bed. At first, I thought nightmares from the attack finally hit him. Only, he made a b-line for the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind him.

I followed him, standing outside of the door, trying to figure out what he needed. It was morning sickness. Of course, it was morning sickness. When your gestation is only three months, fifteen days is like seventeen percent of your pregnancy. Symptoms are bound to start showing up. I tried not to smile. Pups were happy occasions but smiling while my mate threw up seemed rude.

I pattered through the house and grabbed a few bottles of water and the bottle of the orange flavored morning sickness gummies that my dad passed out like candy at the hospital. I snagged a bottle from the pharmacy when we visited Glenn the day before to see if he had any last-minute requests for his room or for anything he needed for when he came home. I’d stashed them under the floorboard in the kitchen pantry, where I’d been hiding things since I was a kid. Well, the things I didn’t bury in the backyard. Some instincts were so ingrained into my blood that I couldn’t ignore them. Some things were just meant to be buried.

Jolly followed on my heels, wagging his tail and sniffing the air as we made our way back to the bathroom. The door was still locked and that usually meant the person on the other side wanted to be left alone. Most people wanted to be left alone in the bathroom but sometimes the rules were different when you were mates.

“Mate?” I called out gently.

“Rhomas, you don’t need to see me like this,” he said, his voice full of tears.

“I’ve seen sick people before. I work at a hospital, remember?”

“Yeah, but you haven’t seen me sick.”

“We’re going to be together for a very long time. Sooner or later, I’m going to see you get sick and this isn’t normal sick. This is your body trying to adjust to carrying wolf pups.”

He knew that but sometimes you had to say the obvious things to comfort other wolves. Sometimes hearing those things said aloud made them easier to process.

“We’ll celebrate later, but right no—” his words cut off because he was sick again.

Sighing, I squatted down and shifted my fingernail into my wolf’s claw to pick the lock.

“Don’t—” he said, stretching out his foot to hold the door.

Jolly started pacing in front of the bathroom door and I almost joined him. I could’ve went around and climbed through the bathroom window but that was a tight squeeze and I didn’t want to get stuck.

“I have the gummies. I don’t know if you know but…” I started but his foot slid away from the door and it opened just enough for his hand to grope out. I handed him the bottle of water first and then the gummies when it reappeared.

“I can’t take care of you from out here!” I said, trying and failing to not let my worry leak into my words.

“Alpha,” he sighed. “There is nothing else you can do.”

“I can be with you.”

“This isn’t a spectator sport,” Eamon said.

“I’ll close my eyes.”

“Rhomas,” he said so gently as he sank onto the floor. “Are there any pregnancy tests in those baskets of food the pack kept bringing us on the days we stayed home?”

“They’re in the drawer under the toothbrush side of the sink,” I said.

“Thanks, mate.”

“You can’t take it without me!” I said, trying not to bounce around like a pup.

“I’ve peed alone for all these years. I don’t think my dick is going to fall off if you don’t watch me pee,” he snapped.

I took two steps back from the door. Sometimes pregnant wolves were grouchy. It was hard to predict what got under their skin but they got a pass because growing life is hard and pregnancy hormones flood their systems to make stuff for the puppies at their expense.

“Okay, I won’t watch you pee,” I said and he laughed.

“That sounds like a solemn vow.”