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Epilogue Two

Thorne

I stare down at my sleeping mate and feel my inner bear sigh with contentment. After pulling the covers up over her, I cradle my newborn son against my chest and head out to the living room to let her rest.

Although it was an easy labor and delivery, I nearly tore that fucking hospital to shreds while my wife whimpered in pain. Papa Bear and my brothers attempted to take me outside to calm me down, but there was no way I’d leave Mabel’s side.

Once my little Theodore came howling into the world, things calmed down a tiny bit, but we’re still adjusting to being a family of three.

We just got home from the hospital this morning, and I’m allowing my family to come to see our new addition tomorrow but only for a little while. Today, I’m letting my wife rest while I spend time with my little clone.

I struggle to get us settled on the large sofa, but my son sleeps through everything. When my phone rings, I grumble under my breath. I’m going to kill the motherfucker who’s interrupting us.

I see Clay’s name flash across the screen and answer. “What?”

“Did you really name your son Teddy?” my younger brother hisses. “Are you trying to put a fucking target on his back?”

“My mate chose the name and I happen to love it.” I plan to make sure my son can kick ass if someone is stupid enough to make fun of his name.

“Good God,” Clay grumbles, and I hear Angel Baby howling in the background. My brother offered to babysit my spoiled pooch for a few days while we adjust to having a newborn in the house. “Your first dependent isn’t happy with the current situation.”

My little Chihuahua had been acting out during my mate’s pregnancy. I had to take the stubborn dog in hand and break some of the bad habits he’d developed as an only child. My efforts paid off, and he’s been much better lately.

Once the little dog felt secure in his place in our family, he became insanely protective of Mabel. Of course, my inner bear is still the most obsessed being on earth. My mate can’t sneeze without my bear jumping to attention.

“Angel Baby is only doing that because he knows you’re an easy target. Grow some balls and tell him to calm down. The little shit will listen,” I instruct Clay, then hang up the phone before he can argue.

“Your uncles are pushovers. I’ll teach you how to wrap them around your little finger. I have a bet with Papa Bear about how long it will take for them to get in a fight over who’s your favorite uncle. And I need a new zero-turn riding lawnmower.” I smile down at my sleeping son and realize I probably shouldn’t teach him to torture his uncles. My mate will kick my ass if she finds out I’m already corrupting our little one. Oh well, I actually love my mate’s ass-kickings. So, it’s a win-win for me.