James
I crashed through the trees, branches whipping against my fur, my paws barely touching the ground as I leaped over ditches and fallen logs. My heart hammered a frantic, painful rhythm against my ribs, each beat echoing the words my wolf had just hurled at me. She’s carrying a pup. Trishelle is having our child. Could it be true? Was she really pregnant? With my pup? The questions spiraled through my mind as I made my way back to the Bloodmoon territory in record time, the forest a blur of dark greens and blacks. I had no memory of the journey, only the desperate need to be alone with this revelation.
Not even bothering to slow down, I shouldered my way through the back door of my house and rushed straight to my room, closing it with a shove of my nose. Only when the solid wood stood between me and the rest of the world did I shift, the change tearing through me with a familiar agony that felt almost welcome compared to the turmoil in my chest. I didn’t even make it to the bed. I just curled into a tight ball on the floor, right in front of the door, as if I could barricade myself against the truth. Tears came, hot and silent, tracking through the dirt on my face as a million thoughts crashed through my brain like waves against rocks.
At one point, a sliver of doubt pierced through the haze. What if it was Bradley’s? The thought made bile rise in my throat. But my wolf snarled in my mind, a fierce, protective roar that shook me to my core. Ours. Without a shadow of a doubt, it is our pup. The certainty in his voice left no room for argument, and somewhere deep inside, I knew he was right. I could feel it - that inexplicable connection that defied logic.
I stayed on the cold, hard floor for over an hour, my body trembling with the weight of what this meant. My head throbbed until I thought it might explode from the sheer volume of my thoughts, each one more overwhelming than the last. Finally, getting up on stiff limbs, I made my way to the shower and stood under the scalding water, letting it wash away the grime and the forest, though it couldn’t touch the chaos inside me. Now I existed in a numb state, my body moving on autopilot because I didn’t know what else to do. I didn’t know how to process the fact that I was going to be a father - that somewhere out there, Trishelle carried my child, and she probably hated me for it.
After drying my hair, I decided to sleep and figure it out tomorrow. The problems would still be there in the morning; they always were. After putting on a pair of boxers, I made my way to bed, certain that I would spend the night tossing and turning, my mind replaying every mistake I’d made. But surprisingly, exhaustion claimed me, and I drifted off as soon as my head hit the pillow.
James
I was walking through the woods. It was a beautiful day in autumn, the kind that made you believe in second chances. The sun was just hot enough to keep the crisp chill in the air from being uncomfortable. The leaves were a riot of red, orange, and gold, crunching softly beneath my feet with each step. Soon, I came to a clearing that led to a lake. The water was so crisp and clean that it shimmered like liquid diamonds, and I wondered if I could take a swim. Then I heard humming coming from my right, a soft, familiar melody that made my heart ache with longing.
When I turned, I found Trishelle sitting on a blanket, her profile to me, her hair glowing in the sunlight like spun gold. She looked peaceful, content - everything I’d stolen from her with my selfishness.
My feet took me to her before my brain could catch up, drawn like a moth to flame. I fell to my knees behind her, my body trembling with the force of emotions I’d tried so hard to bury. Shaking, I tightly wrapped my arms around her, burying my face in the sweet scent of her hair, that intoxicating mixture of vanilla and wildflowers. Inhaling deeply, I began to silently weep, just happy for this single, stolen moment, even if it was only a dream. "Trishelle," I choked out, my voice thick with emotion and regret. "I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I know that you’ll probably never forgive me, but I’m sorry." The words felt inadequate, too small to contain the depth of my remorse.
Trishelle
I tried to wriggle out of his embrace, but James didn’t want to see the look of disgust on my face. He held me tighter, his arms like steel bands, until I squeaked out, "Please, James, you’re squishing my belly."
He immediately let me go, his hands flying back as if I’d burned him, terror flashing across his features at the thought of causing me any more pain. I turned and tsked at him, a small smile playing on my lips despite myself. "What am I going to do with you? You almost squished ’tutti-frutti’."
"Tutti-frutti? What the hell is that?" he asked, looking confused as hell, his brow furrowing in that way that used to make me laugh.
I giggled and took his hand, placing it on my rounded belly with gentle deliberation. "Did you forget that’s what you wanted to call the baby?" I shook my head in mock exasperation. "I swear, sometimes I think you have the ’baby brain’."
James stared at his hand as it curled around the warm, solid bump that was my stomach. He felt the life growing within, our child, and fresh tears came to his eyes, blurring his vision. "My pup. You’re having my pup?" He couldn’t believe it, couldn’t process that something so pure could come from something so wrong. As if to confirm its presence, the pup decided to move, kicking against its father’s hand with a firm, definite thump, as if to say that it was real, that it mattered, that it existed despite everything.
I chuckled at the look of pure, unadulterated awe on James’ face. It was a look that I’d never seen before, vulnerable and open in a way he’d never allowed himself to be, but one I knew I would not forget. It was the first time that I felt the baby move so strongly, and I was glad to know that the little one was doing well, thriving even.
James lay his head on my lap, pressing an ear against my belly with reverent care. Soon, the strong, rhythmic thump-thump-thump of the pup’s heartbeats could be heard, steady and sure, and he and his wolf were overjoyed. His wolf couldn’t stop wagging its tail, practically dancing with happiness. He would have howled in joy, but it would block the wondrous sound of our child’s heartbeat, and he couldn’t bear to miss a single moment of it.
James
I shifted and looked up at Trishelle, searching her face for any sign of the hatred I deserved. My breath caught in my throat at the look of gentle acceptance on her face when I had been so sure I would see contempt, disgust, or worse - indifference. Tears filled my eyes, and I opened my mouth to apologize once again. I didn’t think there were enough days in my life that I would stop apologizing for the wrong I had done, for the choices I’d made that had hurt her so deeply. However, Trishelle simply shushed me with her hand over my lips, her touch impossibly soft.
Shaking her head, she moved her hand to gently stroke my hair, her fingers threading through the strands with a tenderness I didn’t deserve. "There is no more need to say sorry. What’s done is done, and no amount of words will change that," she said quietly, her voice carrying a wisdom that made her seem older than her years. Trishelle sighed as she looked towards the evening sun reflecting upon the gentle waves of the lake, the golden light painting her features in warm hues. "No matter how it happened, right now, there is a life growing inside me, and I, for one, am more interested in the future. Don’t you think that’s the best approach?"
I nodded, unable to speak past the lump in my throat, and turned my head to snuggle closer to my pup. I took a moment to feel the bond begin to grow between me and my child, a fragile, beautiful thread of connection that felt like the first good thing I’d done in months. "Trishelle, can I ask you a question?" I felt her nod as she continued to play with my hair, the gesture soothing in a way I hadn’t experienced in so long. "Could I be there when the pup is born?" The question came out barely above a whisper, afraid that asking for too much would shatter this perfect moment.
Trishelle
I turned his head to look into his eyes, those dark depths that had once made my heart race for entirely different reasons. Smiling, I replied, "Of course. This is your pup as much as it is mine." The words felt right, true, even though part of me wondered if I was being foolish.
I jumped out of my sleep, my heart racing like I’d run a marathon. Reaching for the lamp on the bedside table with trembling fingers, I switched on the light, wondering what kind of strange dream that was. It was so real that if I weren’t in bed, I would have believed it was true, that I’d actually been there by that lake with James. I could almost taste the chill of the autumn air, feel the warmth of the sun on my skin, hear the gentle lapping of water against the shore. Why would I dream about that man of all people? And why would I be nice to him, forgiving even?
The questions swirled in my mind, making my head ache. It’s true that I’m having a pup thanks to him, but I could have been marked and mated and pregnant with Bradley’s child if it wasn’t for him. I could have had the life I’d planned, the future I’d dreamed of, instead of this complicated mess. The anger that had sustained me these past weeks felt strangely muted now, replaced by confusion and something else I couldn’t quite name.
I headed to the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face, hoping it would wash away the lingering images of the dream. The shock of the cold helped clear my head slightly, but I could still feel James’s arms around me, still hear his broken apology. There was no way that I would be able to go back to sleep, not with these thoughts churning through my mind. Curling up in the comfy armchair by the window, I pulled a blanket around my shoulders and looked out at the partial moon slowly weaving its way through the clouds.
I wasn’t sure what was going on, but I hoped that whatever it was would not repeat itself. The last thing I needed was to start feeling sympathy for James, to start imagining a future where we could somehow make this work. That wasn’t reality. Reality was complicated and messy, and forgiveness wasn’t something that came easily, no matter what my subconscious seemed to think. I placed a hand on my belly, feeling the slight swell there, and wondered what kind of mother I would be - and what kind of father James could be, if I let him.
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