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“We can just go,” Cevon offers, shooting Orson a dirty look.
“What are you worried about?” Griffin asks from the other door. I turn his way, causing the two overbearing mates to sigh. “What do you think is going to happen?”
“I’ve not been to the doctors in six years,” I say, frowning a little. “I’m not sure what’s going to happen, but I know they’re going to judge me for that.”
He shakes his head. “They won’t.”
“They’ll ask about my mental health.”
He nods. “Probably. But you gave my dad permission to chat with them, right?” I nod.
George and I had a very quick call this morning, and he promised he’d communicate with both the doctors. We’ve got a therapy session tomorrow, which was the earliest he could fit me in during business hours.
Although, he did offer to come by after he had dinner with his mate, but I refused. I don’t want to disrupt things, but, honestly, I don’t even need the emergency appointment.
Maybe if things with Cevon didn’t play out the way they did, that might have been different. But, instead, I’m actually doing pretty decent.
“We’re here to talk about reproductive health,” I say, glaring at the dashboard instead of acknowledging any of my mates because I’m dreading how this is going to go down. “And I can’t help but think they’re going to judge my ability to parent when I tried to kill myself a few weeks ago.”
And there it is.
My fear over these appointments.
Heat’s lead to babies. I eventually want a baby. But do I have the right to sit and talk about that future when I tried to kill myself a month ago? When I struggle to even look after myself some days?
“Oh, baby girl,” Griffin whispers, reaching into the car and undoing my seat belt. He drags me across the back seats and lifts me into his arms. I burst into tears, instantly covering his pale grey jacket with them, and he cuddles me in close.
The smell of cinnamon, the one that’s attributed to him, is all I can smell, and it’s the most reassuring thing.
“Your mental health doesn’t determine how good you are at parenting,” Griffin says firmly, despite the fact that his head is buried in my hair. “You can still love your child and be depressed. You can still love your child and hate yourself. We’ve told you before that your worth isn’t defined by your mental health, Nora, and the same is true for your parenting ability.”
Maybe I was wrong. Maybe Griffin’s the one I need right now, not Orson. My sobs quiet into sniffles, and I pull back a little.
He grips my chin and smiles at me.
“If any of these two doctors say something different, they are terrible at their job,” Griffin says. “They’ll not be employed for long and will definitely lose their license when I’m through with them.”
I nod through my sadness, knowing he’s telling the truth, but still not sure I can believe him.
“Fuck, baby, I’m sorry,” Orson murmurs, stepping closer and rubbing my back. “I didn’t even think of that.”
No, because he’s not a mentally ill wolf who does think about that.
Constantly.
“I’ll kill them if they even think it,” Cevon reassures me, patting my shoulder. I snarl, and he sighs. “You’ll be a great mum, Nora. Lainey was a great mum, and she died, which ultimately killed our baby. As long as you don’t do that, you’re already one step above the only good parent I know.”
Orson gasps, Griffin eyes Cevon like he’s unhinged, and I wiggle to be put on the ground. I turn to face Cev, and he gives me a small nod as I smile at him.
I was wrong again. I need all three of these men.
Cevon and his dark humour, Griffin and his mindful thoughts, and Orson’s strong stability.
My other four mates who aren’t here are no less important to me, but I’m glad these three are the ones who came.
“Let’s go inside,” I say bravely.
“Are you sure?” Orson asks, but Cevon kicks his leg, and he nods. “Let’s go.”
