Now that everything had really fallen apart, the morning sickness was the least of my concerns. In fact, my mom’s carefully mixed smoothies, curating the right vitamins and minerals and taken along with acetaminophen were almost entirely wiping that nausea off the board. By the afternoon, I was usually fairly functional — but Mom had insisted on running the store for me, at least for a couple of weeks. I had a feeling she’d be around much longer than that.

More difficult was the cocktail of bad feelings that sprang up every time I thought about Jack, or caught sight of myself in the mirror and imagined our pup growing in me. His pup.

How could he have risked my family like that?

I’d only known him for a couple of weeks, so perhaps I should have known better. Still, up until the moment he told me the truth, I’d considered him a brave and upstanding person. The kind of guy who’d do anything to help somebody else, even if he issued a couple of sarcastic jokes as he did so to try and deflect the kindness of the gesture. He seemed good. Now, I had to carry the guilt of knowing I’d brought a stranger into the fold. A stranger who threatened the good health of everybody I loved so much.

The people who were caring for me right now, and who always would. No matter what.

Matters weren’t helped by Josie’s young age. She didn’t really understand why she didn’t get to play with Jack any more, and it hurt her. Trying to convince her that it wasn’t that he didn’t want to see her was tough, especially as I couldn’t really explain the alternative. If I told her I’d sent him away, maybe she’d hate me for it.

I couldn’t handle that right now.

Granted, I couldn’t handle much.

I stared out of the window, where I had been standing for the last twenty minutes or so. I had been intending to get some housework done since Kylie had kindly taken Josie for a sleepover this evening, but those intentions had died pretty quickly. Staring out across the busy Seattle street in front of our apartment, watching as the lamplights flickered on in the growing dark, I wondered how many of the people passing by were enduring some heartache like this.

I wondered if I’d ever see Jack among them, walking by the house to check on me.

I hated myself for hoping he would.

I tore myself away from the window, eyes cast down to the floor. It was getting late now. I wanted a few glasses of wine, but knew I couldn’t drink. As I passed by the wine rack, I had to leap into my fur to prevent myself from reaching up to look at the labels. That only made me feel worse. What kind of irresponsible parent would even think of drinking while pregnant, let alone actively want to? I could lose this baby from stress alone; I didn’t need any other sins to encourage such a terrible thing to happen. I pawed around the apartment alone, paws heavy and issuing the occasional self-pitying whine before finally dropping to a pile on the couch, head hanging on the arm.

Was I going to be this miserable for the entire nine months?

How was I going to feel once the baby arrived?

No matter how I tried to adjust and get comfortable, I kept shifting my paws. Lifting my body. Moving my head. There was no position that worked — no way to relax. The more I noticed it, the more frustrated I got. It was a vicious cycle, building me up into a frenzy of guilt and unhappiness and fear and a whole blend of other emotions tied up so tightly that I couldn’t unpick and identify them.

I had to do something.

Should I call him?

I was back in my skin and finding my phone before I could really think that logic through. I felt my pulse loud in my head as I found Jack in my contacts and hit dial, bottom lip worried between my teeth and pacing back and forth across the room.

When he picked up, he didn’t have a chance to speak.

“Did you think about us at all?”

“Dylan-”

“Did you?” I asked. Even as far apart as we were, separated by a phone line and so much distance, I couldn’t help but feel a flicker of fear curl around my shoulders. I was going to make him hate me. But didn’t I hate him right now? Why should I care about that? “Were you nervous about it? Did you think you’d just leave it to fate?”

“I’m sorry, Dylan. I couldn’t be more sorry.”

“But you did it several times!” I insisted, dropping down into the couch that couldn’t comfort me before. It wasn’t much better for my human form, but I stayed seated anyway. I was tired out already from all the pacing. “You met Josie. You got close enough to me that I could have gotten infected, and then I could’ve passed it to her, and...”

“I know.”

“And then dinner. And you were going to come again last week!”

“I’m tested now,” he insisted. “I’m not contagious.”

“We don’t know that,” I pressed. Under ordinary circumstances, I wouldn’t question the results of a professional test, but my blood was running hot in my veins. I couldn’t kick the mental image of Jack sitting at the dinner table with my family, working through the meal my mom had cooked and all the while not knowing whether or not he was condemning every wolf around him to an ugly and uncomfortable death.

I wasn’t an angry person, but I felt betrayal flickering at me. I thought I’d gotten to know Jack in those short weeks we had together. I felt we were wrapped around one another, sudden but intimate. Two puzzle pieces that fit together just right. How was I supposed to feel now that I knew he wasn’t what I’d imagined at all?

“The test was conclusive,” he continued. “I swear-”

“Now I’m pregnant,” I interrupted, tired of apologies and promises. “And you said I need to have this baby tested in case they’re a carrier.”

“As a precaution.”

“As though that’s any better!”

I heard the hysteria and the exhaustion seasoning my voice. Alongside his sad, calm tone, it was frustrating to be so emotional. All these hormones were making a show of me.

“You must think I’m so stupid.”

“Dylan, no.”

“You told me that story, and I just didn’t think to ask. I thought it would be insensitive. And there you were…”

I clamped my mouth shut, feeling emotion claw its way up my throat. I didn’t want it weakening my tone — didn’t want him to hear that. I squeezed my eyes tight shut too, as though he’d somehow be able to hear the tears collecting in my eyes, precarious and threatening to fall.

“Please just let me try to make it up to you,” he asked. I heard the sincerity in his words and believed it. But I’d believed him before, too. “Dylan, I would never want anything to happen to you or Josie, or your family. Our baby…”

“Our baby?” I said, voice thick with the tension I’d been trying to hide. I just couldn’t stay silent. “Our baby is staying safe with me.”

“Dylan…”

“When I lost Adam,” I said, somehow forcing my way past his name without choking. “When I lost Micah. That fire started because I took a stupid risk.”

He paused. Then, hesitant: “It was an accident.”

“Of course it was an accident,” I snapped. “But accidents have causes, and they’re avoidable, and he told me not to leave the dryer running unattended. He told me that, and I thought he was being overcautious. I thought I knew better, and now they’re dead.”

The word seemed too loud for the apartment. I opened my eyes to stare around it, half-imagining I’d summoned their ghosts to surround me. Not a day went by when I didn’t feel shame and loss, but I had still never felt their spirits. That hadn’t changed. However momentous it felt to say that sentence aloud, I was still alone in the room.

Still terribly alone.

“You can’t blame yourself.”

“I do,” I said, direct and sure. “I do blame myself. My baby burned to death, and I won’t ever forgive myself for that risk I took. So what makes you think there’s anything you can do to make me forgive you for yours?”

We fell silent. I could hear the clock ticking in his apartment, and the light patter of rain beginning to hit my windowpane.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Dylan, the fact that happened to your family is awful, but it wasn’t your fault. We can get over this too; I know we can. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

My face scrunched up, fighting against the mass of tears that still threatened. A couple had already escaped, drawing light, wet lines down both my cheeks. I couldn’t speak, so he continued.

“I thought you would’ve deleted my number. The fact you kept it… I don’t know, Dylan. I know I fucked up. More than fucked up. I was scared to get that test. I’ve been running away from my past for years. I feel the weight of everyone I lost pushing down on me every day. That was stupid. I was a coward, and it ended up putting you and your family in danger. I’m sorry for that. It’s not just a word. I’m burning up, here.”

I swallowed. More tears spilled over, my heart punching out a fast rhythm inside me. I felt sick to my stomach at the wolf within me trying desperately to reach out to Jack, wanting a mate. Wanting a mate despite the immense danger he’d put my family in. My family, who’d always been there for me no matter what. My pack. My people.

“Please let me make it up to you. There’s something about us, Dylan. It’s just right. Cards on the table, it’s… it’s just fucking right, more than I ever thought it could be. And now there’s a baby on the way, and I love Josie about as much as I-”

“Don’t.”

I betrayed my promise to myself, speaking with an obvious tremor in my voice — more like an escaped sob than a word. I just couldn’t let him say it. Couldn’t let myself hear it.

Enough was enough.

“Please just don’t ever call me again,” I managed. “Don’t come to the store. Don’t come to the apartment. We’re done.”

I hung up before he could apologize again. Tossing my phone to the other side of the couch, I collapsed into fits of swallowed sobs on the arm of the chair, wracked with emotion so strong that it physically pained me — my chest, my back and my shoulders all heaving and aching with the force of it, and the separation.

Calling had been a very bad idea, but if nothing else, at least I’d managed to say those words. Now, I could begin the process of trying to move on all over again.

Somehow.