Page 62 of The Coyote's Veterinarian Omega

Wyatt turned those hazel eyes on me again. “There’s something else we can watch.”

“Oh yeah?”

He nodded. “I heard it’s good. Just … never bothered to watch it.”

“Well, we can check it out,” I offered. I don’t think I’d watched anything Sherlock Holmes–related since that oneWishboneepisode. Chip had been obsessed with that show when he was little; I was pretty sure Dad had illegally downloaded it from somewhere and burned a DVD just so we could toss it on and placate Chip.

I glanced at my mate. For him, I was willing to try anything.

In the morning, I made waffles. Wyatt snapped his fingers when he strolled into the kitchen, declaring, “That’s another thing.”

I quirked a brow. “What is?”

“Shrek,” he said, sliding into one of the kitchen chairs. “We can add that to our to-watch list.”

I laughed lightly as I opened the waffle maker. “Sure.”

I extracted the now-perfectly cooked waffle, added more batter, and set the press down again. I proceeded to fix Wyatt a plate—two waffles, slathered with whipped cream and strawberries.

Wyatt grimaced when he saw it. I paused. “Everything okay?”

He swallowed. “Yeah. I just … it’s only been a bit since the nausea backed off, right?”

“Oh,” I said. I glanced down at the plate. “You want something else?”

He shook his head, reaching for it. “It looks really good. Just don’t be offended if I don’t eat it all.”

Some strange instinctual part of me wanted to plonk down and spoon feed him every last bite. He was my mate and he was carrying our pup and that meant I needed to take care of him.

“I can’t make any promises,” I told him. “I worked really hard on this. Oh, shit.”

I darted back over to the overflowing waffle maker while he laughed. I fixed my own plate, then returned to the table. “There’s bacon too,” I told him as I set down my plate.

“Mm,” he said around a mouthful.

I returned to the stove, pulling a plate out of the oven, since I’d been keeping it warm in there. I hadn’t known when he was going to get up.

I settled myself in one of the chairs. Wyatt set down his knife and fork, covering his mouth while he chewed. “I’ve decided,” he said when his mouth was clear.

I paused with my own forkful of waffle halfway to my mouth. Whipped cream and table syrup dripped back to the plate. “Decided what?” I practically squeaked. My heart thudded. I already knew what he was talking about.

I braced myself.It’s his choice, I reminded myself furiously. This wasn’t the old days, when alphas had complete control over their omegas.

“I’m keeping it,” Wyatt said, a slow, secretive smile lighting up his face.

My heart soared. “Really?” I could barely keep the elation out of my voice, and part of me wanted to leap out of my chair and run laps around the kitchen like I was a puppy with the zoomies or something. I forced myself to stay seated, dropping my fork back to my plate. “Are you sure? I mean, this is a big decision, and we only just got together, like, what? A couple of months ago—”

Wyatt’s smile just grew. “I’m sure,” he said. He dropped his gaze to the tabletop. “I mean, yeah, I’m a little … weirded out and overwhelmed, because I … this isn’t something that happens to people like me, but …”

He glanced up again. “I’m really happy, Cam.”

I swallowed. “Me too,” I croaked, reaching across the table for his hand. He grabbed mine and squeezed.

“And—whynot?” His voice wobbled a little. “I didn’t think this was something that could happen to me, I didn’t think I’d ever have the opportunity tobea parent, not without a ton of paperwork and …”

I squeezed his hand harder as he trailed off, looking towardthe window. Something wistful stole over his face. “All my life, I was told that people like me couldn’t have this. Couldn’t have happiness. And now I’ve got it, and I don’teverwant to give up a single crumb of it again.”

My mouth was dry. I was pretty sure I was speechless, until I said, “And the … pup makes you happy?”