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What has he done with the absolute psychopath I’ve been spending my time with?
The front door opens as the four of us have a stare down, and the scent of cinnamon fills the air.
“What’s going on?” Fin asks, his mellifluous tone failing at drawing my attention. “Guys?”
“We’re just discussing Nora’s appointment,” Orson says. His words sound distant, unsure, and I know we all feel the same way. “Cevon’s just enlightening us on why birth control is bad.”
“Ah, yeah, we’ve talked about that,” Fin says, coming to sit on the chair opposite me. “Cevon’s pretty anti-birth control, and after reading those leaflets, so am I.”
“Wait, you read them, too?” I ask, glancing up at him.
Griffin nods. “Of course, I did. Cevon stole them, but do you honestly think I was going to sit there and not be part of it?”
“Part of what?” Atticus asks, and I shriek. I turn, seeing him standing there with Malachi, both of them dressed in their regular suits. I didn’t hear the door open, or even scent them until they were right here, and my heart is still racing despite there being no danger.
Micah gently rubs my back as I gape up at the duo in front of me.
“Researching all the different options Nora has regarding her heat,” Fin says.
“Orson said the second appointment went well,” Atticus says, giving me a soft smile.
“It did,” I say, biting my lip. “Sort of.”
“What do you mean by sort of?” Mal asks, coming to sit next to Fin. It’s kind of uncomfortable being at the centre of this discussion, especially since Voss isn’t here, and I wanted to talk to Cevon in private before it happened.
“I just…” I trail off and look at Cevon. “I’m done eating. Can we talk?”
I smell the frustration coming off of Atticus, and the resignation from Malachi. Fin seems to be understanding, and the smile he gives me reflects that.
“Why?” Cevon asks, the only one seeming bewildered.
“Because you’re not ready to be a dad again, and I’m not sure if I want to go on birth control.” I bite my lip as tears well up in my eyes.
The choice that’s been running through my mind all day—to kill myself or to have a baby—rises, but I push it down. George and I talked about this, and there are so many other options.
“Are you taking the fucking piss?” Atticus roars, jumping to his feet. “You’re cutting the rest of us out of this discussion? You’re going to sit with my brother and figure this out, and what? We just get told the result?”
I’m not sure whether to gasp, cry, or throw something at Atticus right now. He’s upset, the anger in his words is only being used to cover up the depth of his upset.
But how could he ever think that of me? How can he stand there and think I’d not consult him over something this important?
I wipe away the few tears that have left and stand up, looking around the room. “I’ve spent all day thinking I had two choices. I’d either have to go on birth control and risk them fucking my hormones so badly, that I go back into a deep depression and end up killing myself.”
“Nora—” Atty starts, his voice choked up as he says my name.
“Or I’d have to have a baby. A baby I know for a fact Cevon is not ready for.” I glance at my lion mate and give him a watery smile before turning back to his older brother. “A baby I’m not sure where the rest of you stand on having.”
I wipe my tears away. Again. “But never once did it cross my mind to only take Cevon’s feelings into account,” I say, and his face drops. “Cevon’s got the biggest aversion to this, and I wanted to respect him and his trauma by discussing it separately, and then we’d talk about it as a group.”
“Shit,” Atticus whispers.
“But rather than trusting in me, you made this about you and your fight with Cevon,” I say, sadly. “Again.”
The front door opens, and nobody moves since we all know it’s Devoss. We can hear him humming before he shouts through, “It’s fucking sweltering in here.”
“Get those muddy shoes off my clean carpets!” Orson shouts, and Voss startles as he quickly shoves them off. We can only barely see him, but he’s absolutely covered in mud from head to toe.
“How the hell can he see?” Voss mutters under his breath.
