“Is that the only reason you came back? Because your mom implied that you were being less than a man?”
“No, it’s not the only reason.”
I hopped to my feet. “Because I don’t need you to raise this baby. I don’t need you or any other sperm carrier just to be a good parent.”
Cooper’s jaw dropped, and somehow he found the gall to look offended. “Sperm carrier?”
I glared down at him. “Am I supposed to be happy that you came running back because you heard you knocked me up? I don’t want you here out of some sense of obligation.”
“But you do need me. You’re going to need me to help you. I want to be with you, Mo. I want to be a family.”
“You know, I find myself not really giving a crap what you want,” I said, nudging him with my feet until he was forced to get up. I threw a blanket at him, which he wrapped around his waist.
“You told my mother. You had to know that she would get word to me eventually.”
“Yes, but now that I realize that’s the only reason you’re here, I find that I’m really annoyed about it!” I cried. “And actually, no, I didn’t know she’d get word to you eventually, Cooper, because I didn’t know where you were. Your mother didn’t know where you were. Hell, as far as I knew, I was never going to see you again. You didn’t see fit to let me know whether you were ever coming back. How am I supposed to feel about that? You know what? Get out. Get the hell out of here. Until I tell you to come back, you just stay the hell away from me.”
I shoved him toward the door, blanket and all. He tried to stand his ground, but it was hard for him to push back when he knew I was pregnant. He tried to lay his hands on my shoulders but loosened his grip to almost nothing. I was not so kind, stomping on his bare toes, forcing him to move his feet toward the door. “Mo, you’re not making any sense! We just got back together, and you’re already kicking me out?”
“Well, suddenly, I’m not really making rational decisions anymore. It must be all the hormones!” I yelled, slamming the door and locking it behind me.
“I’ll just stay out here, then!” he called through the door. I could practically hear the smirk coming through in his voice, which made me want to throw a birdfeeder at him. “Love you!”
I snapped the curtain over the window. I cleaned up, carefully bandaging the bite mark on my neck as I got dressed for bed. It was already healing into a wide crescent scar. I wondered if that was because of Cooper’s magic or the baby’s. Before I turned out the lights, I marched to the front door and pulled back the curtain to see if he was still there. He’d changed and was curled up in a ball on the welcome mat, sleeping. I felt a little flare of guilt. It wasn’t especially cold outside, and he’d probably slept through worse, but not on my account. I could open the door and at least let him sleep in the living room. After all, wasn’t this what I wanted? Wasn’t this what I’d made myself miserable for, having Cooper back? How contrary and prideful was it to turn him away now?
The truth was, I wasn’t ready to let him back in yet. He’d hurt me. I couldn’t trust that the next time things got hard or he started feeling guilty, he wouldn’t just run off again. I wandered back into my bedroom and crawled under the covers. Oscar, who had been hiding under the bed, hopped up near my feet and nestled beside me. I sat up and scratched between his ears. “Oscar, you are the only trustworthy male in this house, canine or otherwise.”
When I woke up in the morning, Cooper was still in wolf form, still on the porch. He huffed at me and scratched at the door, but I went about my business, getting ready for work. He walked me to the truck and sat in the driveway while I pulled out, his paw raised in a sort of wave. I didn’t speak a word to him, not that morning or that night when I got home. Or the night after that or the one after that. For a week, Cooper stayed in wolf form, watching over the house, walking me back and forth from my truck whenever I left. I stayed silent. Even Oscar gave him the cold shoulder when he went out to play. But neither rain nor sleet nor Arctic blasts from a wiener dog could keep my werewolf boyfriend from his self-appointed rounds.
One night, I came home to find a pile of flowers, pulled up by the roots, scattered over the front stoop. Cooper sat on his haunches, surrounded by wildflowers, and huffed.
“What’s next, a dead squirrel?” I asked.
Cooper barked.
I sat down on the steps and stroked his fur. “Look, I get it, you’re sorry. Would you please change back into a man so we can talk about this like grown-ups? I promise I won’t hit you again.”
Cooper shifted and wrapped his arm around me. “I’m sorry. I should have said that first. I’m so sorry I left you. I thought I could handle it. I knew that biting you that first time, marking you, meant that I could never mate with anyone else—”
“What?” I demanded.
He shrugged. “That’s how it works with us. Once we mark our partners, that’s it. It’s more magic than science, but after we mark the one we choose, our DNA won’t mix with anyone else’s. Wolves mate for life.”
“You walked away from me, knowing you might never have kids? That you’d never find someone else?”
“I wouldn’t want anyone else.”
I slapped at his shoulder. “Jackass.”
He pulled me close. “I love you. I can’t stay away from you. I don’t care if that makes me selfish. You make me happy. You’re the only spot in my life that makes sense right now. Even without the baby, I would still feel that way. And until I know for sure what’s happening, until I find out whether I’m the one hurting people—”
“You’re not,” I told him sternly, holding his chin to make him meet my gaze.
He nodded, but I could tell he was just placating me. “Until I know for sure, one way or the other, you’re stuck with me.”
I conceded, “I know you were just doing what you thought was right. Your heart was in the right place, even if your head was up your ass.”
“I hope the baby has your special way with words.” He sighed.
“Good.” I wrapped my arms around him, as if I could make him keep his promise by just holding him there. I nuzzled his neck. “So, um, when was the last time you had a shower? Ballpark guess?”
“I don’t know. I rolled around in a creek about a week ago.” He shrugged. When I wrinkled my nose, he was indignant. “I was running around in wolf form, beating the hell out of myself, and wallowing in misery. I wasn’t at a damned spa.”
“I’m sorry,” I told him. “I love you in spite of your pungent manliness.”
“Well, now you’re just patronizing me,” he grumbled. I laughed. His stomach growled loudly.
I rolled my eyes, chuckling as I stepped over the flowers into the house. “How about I fix pancakes and you take a shower?”
“It depends. Is this a trick to make me lower my guard so you can punch me again?”
“I slapped you, I didn’t punch!”
“I’m sorry if my bruised skull can’t tell the difference.”
COOPER STEPPED OUT of the shower looking far more chipper than I’d ever seen him. And the mammoth pile of pancakes waiting for him only improved his mood. I sat beside him at the counter while he chewed thoughtfully, obviously trying to choose the right words. “I know I don’t have the right to ask, but why did I smell Alan here?”
“You’re right,” I told him softly. “You don’t have the right to ask that.”
“Mo.”
“Alan was here. Nothing happened,” I told him, knowing that a heavily edited version of my evening with Alan would be best for everyone. Cooper might not get angry with me, but he probably wouldn’t grant the same courtesy to Alan. The last thing I needed was for Cooper to be arrested for tearing the head off a federal official in the middle of Main Street. “He made it pretty clear how he felt, but I told him that he was just a friend to me. I’m not going to say I didn’t consider being with him, just to get you out of my system. To hurt you back. But when it came down to it, I just couldn’t. There’s no getting you out of my system, Cooper. You’re there to stay.”
A relieved, grateful smile broke over Cooper’s face. “I bet Alan didn’t take that well.”
“Actually, other than insulting you, he was a gentleman about it. Unlike a certain smug werewolf who gave me a permanent hickey to mark his territory. And peed on my doorstep—which you will be hosing off, by the way.”
Around a mouthful of pancake, he muttered, “Yes, yes, I am Alan’s emotional inferior. I’m sure that will keep him warm at night.”
