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If I wasn’t wrestling with the looming possibility of pregnancy, I would’ve loved his answer. Because I was, it wasn’t what I wanted to hear.
“Do you want to stay in Wildwood, and have kids?” he asked me.
“I don’t want to leave Wildwood. I feel safe here, for the first time in a long time. I’ve never thought about having kids, but when I was growing up, I was always alone. I promised myself that if I ever had kids, I would have a few, so they could have each other and wouldn’t have to deal with that loneliness,” I admitted.
“I like that. My siblings and I were close, before I lost them in the war. I’m the only one left now. My parents are still alive, though. They’re already bugging me to meet you. The pack’s gossip got back to them already.”
“They live here?”
“Yes, they’re both enforcers.”
I lifted my eyebrows. “So they answer to you?”
He chuckled. “Yes. The relationship changes a lot over the course of eternity. It resembles friendship more than parenthood when you’ve been alive as long as I have.”
That made sense, though it was bizarre to imagine. I hadn’t been close with my parents even before social services took me from them for my safety when I was six. All I could really remember was their tempers, and the way their lives were controlled by their drug addictions. They weren’t cruel to me, but they hadn’t cared about me.
I would definitely never consider them my friends.
“This will be ready in a few minutes.” Beck finally released my leg, stepping away from me so he could grab a few seasonings. He tasted the sauce with a finger, then added more, repeating the motion a few times.
I couldn’t hide my smile at the way he cooked without a recipe. Baking didn’t work like that, and if I made the attempt, my cookies would look and taste like shit.
He nodded when he was satisfied with it, and I watched him dish up two full plates. When he carried them to the table, I slipped off the countertop and grabbed silverware and water glasses.
I knew the food would be good before I even sat down.
ten
SIENNA
We ate dinner in relative quiet, then cleaned up together before we sat down at the table with a deck of cards.
“What are we playing?” I asked as he shuffled.
“Strip poker.”
My eyes narrowed.
He flashed me a grin that made my lower belly clench. “Loser doesn’t strip their clothes—they have to be the first to share their thoughts about difficult subjects.”
“What difficult subjects?”
He pulled a folded sheet of paper from his pocket and slid it across the table, finding a handwritten list.
-Sealing the bond
-Friends’ opinions
-Wildwood Bitches
-Pack announcement
-Finances
-Work schedule
-Kids
