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Jaxon Eight weeks have flown by in the blink of an eye. I can’t believe how much my son has grown in that short period of time. I also can’t believe how much I’ve already missed. Every day he’s doing something new. Something he wasn’t doing when I left the day before. And it guts me that I’m not there to see it.When Skye walked away from me at the same moment I realized I couldn’t live without her, I thought that was the worst thing I’d ever have to face. I was wrong. Because as much as I loved her, still love her, it’s nothing compared to the profound loss I feel every time I have to kiss Benji goodbye.He’s developed his own little personality, full of coos and cries that mean something. He’s even starting to smile. And he has, as I discovered two days ago and have not yet finished processing, a strong preference for Nicolai Woolf's baritone.I was holding him while he cried. Doing everything I've learned in eight weeks of nearly daily visits—the right angle, the right rhythm, the
Nicolai As an Alpha, I’m good at many things. I can run an empire or make a man wish he were never born without breaking a sweat. Still, I’m humble enough to admit when I’m beaten. It just took giving my son a bath to find the one thing that could beat me. .It turns out, Benji has very strong opinions about the bath. They are inconsistent. He has, at various points, been enthusiastic about the bath, devastated by the bath, neutral about the bath, and deeply suspicious of the bath. Tonight he's in the suspicious phase, unsure if he’s about to be swallowed whole by his infant tub or if it’s safe to kick and splash and enjoy himself. Which means he needs to be continuously engaged or he will decide the situation has deteriorated and act accordingly."He's suspicious tonight. Talk to him." It’s the first thing Skye says to me when I walk in the door to see if she needs my help. It’s also the thing I’m least prepared to do after the day I’ve had. "About what?" I ask warily. I talk to B
NicolaiThere's a version of me that other Alphas know.There’s the version of me that delivers threats with the cadence of pleasantries. The version who never needs to raise his voice to end an argument because it’s understood, by anyone who’s listening, that I’ve already won. The version who is always the calmest person in the room, because showing fear is a death sentence.This week alone I handled two such situations that required the Woolf family's particular brand of resolution. The first involved a shipping partner who had developed the impression that our arrangement included a renegotiation option I had not offered. Dimitri handled the preliminary conversation. I appeared at the end of it to reinforce our stance on the matter. The partner revised his position immediately and permanently."Did you have to say it like that?" Dimitri asked after."Like what?" I raised my eyebrow, feigning ignorance. "Like you were commenting on the weather." He grumbled. “Would it kill you to l
Skye The event I now affectionately refer to as the 3 AM moment occurs on a Tuesday.Benji has been crying for forty minutes. Not the hungry cry. Not the tired cry. Not any of the classifiable cries—just the cry that means the world is overwhelming and I have feelings about this and I need you to know.I have tried everything I know.I'm sitting on the floor of the nursery with my back against the side of the crib, Benji on my chest still crying, because the floor felt necessary and also because I got down here and standing up again felt like too much effort.I am beginning to cry too, which I will not admit is primarily the six-weeks-postpartum hormones that Dr. Chernov warned me about and which I was confident would not significantly affect me because I am a practical person. It is primarily the hormones.It is also 3 AM and Benji has been crying for forty minutes and I can't fix it and there's a specific quality to 3 AM that makes everything feel permanent and final in ways that d
SkyeIt’s been six weeks since Benji was born. At least I think it has. I’m pretty sure. To be honest, time has stopped making sense.But regardless of time or my inability to keep it, here are the things I’ve learned so far:I can spend forty-five minutes on a single feeding—trying to get Benji to latch, repositioning, trying again, succeeding, losing it, trying again—and then look up and discover it's 4 AM and I haven't eaten since yesterday's lunch and somehow the entire day has both lasted forever and not happened at all.Well, that’s not entirely true. Nicolai would never let me go a whole day without eating. But the principle stands. I’ve definitely lost all concept of time or schedule.I mentioned this to Dr. Chernov at the two-week appointment. He just looked at me like I was stating the obvious and said, "Yes. That's newborns." Very helpful.Here is what nobody tells you about loving a baby: It's not soft. It's not the warm, gauzy feeling implied by the imagery. It's sharp. I
Jaxon Eventually, the room quiets of all the chaos that ensues after a delivery. The doctor leaves to return to his bed, most likely. The nurses come and go quietly as they bustle about cleaning up the aftermath. And Skye sleeps. Nicolai steps out—gives me time, which is its own kind of grace I didn't expect from him and probably don't deserve. But I notice it. File it away with everything else I'm learning about who this man actually is.But more importantly, I sit with my son.We have the kind of conversation you can only have when the other party can't talk back yet. When there's no risk of being misunderstood or contradicted or asked to follow through on something specific."I'm going to be better."He doesn't react. Just breathes, small and steady, against my chest."That's not a promise I'm making to get something from your mother. I know it doesn't work that way anymore. I know I don't get credit for intentions." I look at his perfect, sleeping face. "You're not going to grow
SkyeWith that thought in mind, I pull myself together and go in search of my aunt. I may have agreed to help her out of guilt—I can’t stand to see that woman cry. Not that I’d ever tell her that. I still can’t forgive what she’s done to our family—but now, I see how helping her just might work in
Skye“Why should I help you when you’ve done nothing but cause me pain?” I snap at my aunt, ensuring my walls are still firmly in place. My father always said I was too soft-hearted, just like my mother. But I only need to look at my crumbling marriage to remember that’s never gotten me anywhere I
SkyeThe rumors spread faster than I anticipated.Despite Jaxon's best efforts to contain the narrative—carefully worded statements to the elders, strategic conversations with influential pack members—the truth has a way of seeping through cracks. By the end of my first week back, everyone knows th
Skye"What kind of rumors?" I ask Jaxon, even though I can guess."That I abandoned my Luna for my ex-lover." The words come out clipped, angry. "That I prioritized Cassandra and her son over my own mate. The elders are asking questions, Skye. They’re blaming Cassandra, and the fact that the doctor







