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“It’s not her birthday,” my mate stubbornly protests.
“No, but she’s a week old now.”
Her eyes fill with tears, and she looks down at our little girl. Phoebe’s eyes are closed as she suckles, and Maia softly runs her finger down Phoebe’s cheek.
“She’s a week old,” Maia repeats, not moving her eyes away from Phoebe.
“She is,” I whisper, taking control from Fluffy. I press my face close to hers to get a better view of Phoebe. “Well done, Mama, you’ve helped our pup survive for a whole week.”
“My baby,” Maia hisses, her eyes brimming with pride, despite the annoyance she directs my way.
Phoebe’s tummy gurgles just before she lets out a very loud fart. And, of course, she follows through. The stench burns my nose, but Maia doesn’t seem to care.
Maia pushes away from me to tend to Phoebe, and I love the way our mating sparks dance across my skin. She reaches over to turn on the lamp, which is far too bright for Phoebe’s eyes. I wait for a second to let Maia fix it herself, but she doesn’t. She seems at ease in the bright lighting.
Is she seriously going to leave Phoebe to struggle?
“Don’t be cruel. She’s not aware of our superior eyesight.”
“Lack of awareness on her mother’s behalf doesn’t mean our pup should suffer.”
“Reach over and turn the brightness of that light down, please,” I say, and when Maia doesn’t, I reach over and do it myself. Her jaw locks, and I know she’s getting annoyed at me again. Time and time again, I’ve ruined this night. We were meant to be celebrating Phoebe’s birthday, and all I’ve done is upset her mother.
“Look, I know your eyesight is dreadful, but don’t make Phoebe suffer because of it.”
“I have perfect vis—wait, what?” Her head snaps up to look at me, and I can see the fear in her baby blues. “How is Phoebe suffering?”
“Our pup has much better eyesight than you do—even with the limited vision she currently possesses—and the light being this bright will be straining her eyes.”
“Oh,” Maia whispers, and her voice is husky with emotion. “Thank you for letting me know. Is this a good setting?”
“Mate sad. Fix it. Fix it. Make my mate happy!” Fluffy roars in my mind.
“How the fuck do I do that without making this situation worse? I didn’t want to hurt her… I just wanted to help Phoebe,” I say quietly.
Fluffy sighs and takes control once more. “It’s perfect. You did good, little mate.”
As a tear drips down Maia’s cheek, he reaches over and brushes it away with his thumb. He then sucks his thumb, and we taste the bitter saltiness of our mate’s despair.
Her hair covers her face from me, but she whispers, “I’m truly not cut out to be her mum, am I?” I don’t think we were meant to hear it, but we did, and we can’t ignore something of this magnitude.
“You’re a wonderful mother, and you are more than capable of parenting her the way she deserves,” Fluffy says, gently tucking her hair behind her ears. Maia freezes, but since she doesn’t move away, Fluffy keeps in contact with her. Sparks fly between us in a soothing way, and I wonder what Maia feels when we touch.
“But, little mama, you need to stop shutting us out and let us be the wonderful fathers we’re capable of being, too. We’re here to help you with Phoebe, not sit back and watch you struggle. That’s not fair to you or Phoebe.”
“Or us,” I mutter miserably.
“You’re not her fathers, though, and I won’t entertain the thought of allowing you to take his place,” Maia says, reaching down the side of the bed to grab the nappy box thing. I don’t really know what’s the purpose of it, but she pulls out a clean nappy and some wipes.
“He’s dead. You can’t take the place of a dead man,” Fluffy says, twisting his face up. “But believe me, I’m more than willing to show you how much better I can be.”
“Fucking hell!” I roar, across the bond. “Those are inside thoughts! There’s nobody to fight, Fluffy. There’s no need to defend our place! Ryan is dead.”
“Get out,” Maia hisses as tears fill her eyes. She rifles through the nappy bag, pulling out a small grey pot and sets it down with the rest of her things. When neither Fluffy or I move, she glares at us.
I can see the depth of her unhappiness, the pain she’s feeling etched into her face, and it hits me right in the gut. We did this. We hurt our mate.
“I don’t understand,” Fluffy says.
