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What Christopher would have wanted me to do.
He didn’t have time to tell me, but I know he’ll have an opinion.
Leave. He’d want me to leave.
I bend down to rifle through the bag the best I can one-handed, praying like hell he managed to slip the keys in here so that I can sit in the car whilst I call.
But he didn’t. They’re not here.
There’s a burning in my throat as I hold the next wave of tears back, and I have no fucking idea what to do. I’m alone with my infant, and Topher’s just unleashed his wolf on the doctor. Which likely means the doctor is a wolf, too.
The slimy doctor who scares me, who has a napkin with my dead fiancé’s name written on it.
Fuck.
Phoebe whines a little, and I rock her back and forth. “Sh, sh, sh, baby. We’re okay.” I lean down and kiss her head again. “I’m coming up with our plan.”
Phoebe gurgles, and I jump before grinning down at her. “Call the others,” I murmur, grinning at her. “Clever girl. Mama’s just going to call for some help, okay?”
She doesn’t answer other than to give me a dazzling smile, but then I never expected her to. I pull my phone out, channelling a calm I do not possess, and immediately call Alex. He doesn’t answer, so I call Ben, since he’s next in my phone contacts.
It rings and rings.
And rings some more.
But then, finally, he answers. My stomach lurches, and I can feel the relief pouring through me. He’ll know what to do. He’ll be able to get me help. It’ll all be okay.
“Was I your first call? I bet I?—”
“Ben, I need your help,” I say, cutting off his teasing. He sounds so joyful, so upbeat, and here I am about to ruin his day.
“The better Wolfe brother is at your services, pretty girl,” he says cheerfully. “What do you need from me?”
“I need you to be serious.” I wait a second for him to agree. “Topher has just lost it. He growled at the doctor, and I’m scared. Phoebe and I are in the feeding room at the surgery, but I think…” I trail off, biting my lip as a fresh wave of tears overfill me. “I think Dr Thomas is a werewolf, and Topher seemed so angry.”
“Fuck,” Ben hisses. I hear movement on his end and huddle Phoebe in closer. “Call Seb and tell him it’s an emergency. Are you safe?”
“I think so.”
“Good girl,” he says softly. “Alex and I will be there in ten minutes, okay?”
“Okay.”
The line goes dead, and with shaky hands, I call Seb next. It rings once before he answers, and any other time, that would bring a smile to my face.
“Seb,” I choke out. One word. That’s all it takes for me to start sobbing down the line.
“Where?”
“The-the-the doct-ors,” I hiccup out.
“On my way.” The line goes dead, too, and Phoebe begins to cry. I wrestle my boob out of my top, letting her latch, and I move the chair slightly so I can see the door. Ben told me to stay put, but maybe I should’ve run outside before calling him. Maybe I should’ve gone to sit by the car or left the building entirely rather than staying here.
So many maybe’s, but not a single plan.
Phoebe’s mostly quiet as she feeds, her little grunts extremely cute, but my panic won’t disappear.
There’s a soft knock on the door, and I squeeze my eyes together as bile rises in my throat. I clutch Phoebe closer to my chest as the handle slowly bends down. The door opens, and sobs overtake me when I see him standing there in the doorway, and I know everything is going to be okay.
