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Cal kneels in front of me, his arms wrapped around me. “Oh shit, Rem, you’ve been through hell.”
I laugh sharply. “Yeah, you could say that.”
I tell him about Sadie. How I ended up here—leaving out the murderous part, for obvious reasons—and Cal’s surefire self-possession fades. When I tell him my story he seems genuinely broken up.
“We’re so lucky you took Sadie’s offer.”
“I mean that much to you?”
He leans his head to the side. “I bet it’s hard to believe anyone would want you after all you’ve been through.”
I swallow back tears. Accepting his kindness is the hardest thing in the world.
“So, why’d you leave Sadie’s after you just got there?” he asks.
I can’t tell him I killed a man. He might throw me out thinking I’m a monster. Maybe he’ll never look me in the eye again. And maybe it’s selfish—to want to stay in this home, with these men, even though I don’t deserve it—but I can’t help myself. Avoiding his question, I say, “I think the shower’s ready.”
“Oh.” Cal’s eyebrows crease and he stands. “I’ll let you be, then.”
He moves to go, and I grab ahold of his wrist. “Don’t leave.”
“You sure?”
I nod.
He moves toward me, lifting the hem of my shirt up and over my head. Silently we undress one another. His t-shirt and my jeans and then, our everything. He steps into the shower, pulling me in after him. The hot water runs over our skin, washing away my confession of where I come from. Except when I look into Callum’s eyes and see that he remembers my story. All of it.
“Don’t pity me,” I say softly. “I’m stronger than I look, remember?”
“I believe it, Rem. But maybe, maybe you don’t have to be strong right now. Maybe you can be gentle with yourself, with your story.”
“Gentle?” I look at him with eyes cloaked in sadness. I wouldn’t know how to be gentle if I tried.
He runs the bar of soap over my bare skin, his hands firmly on my hips—not letting me go. “Last night you were pretty tender.”
I roll my eyes playfully. “Last night I was horny.”
“And what are you now?” Cal asks, his hand moving lower, between my legs, causing my breath to catch. His fingers seem to know exactly where to go.
“Now, it seems, I am yours.”
12
Remedy
The next few days pass in a blur. I sleep, a lot. And it’s not because of the pregnancy—it’s because it’s been forever since I’ve had a warm bed to sleep in. The guys tease me for being such a sleepyhead, but I know they understand how much it means for me to have a place to rest where I’m not sleeping with one eye open.
In the afternoons, River pulls out an old game of Scrabble and we make words out of tiles, sitting on the floor of the living room. Today there is a beautiful fire in front of us. Hot cocoa with whipped cream in mugs on the coffee table. It is like make-believe— all this perfection.
River keeps score, looking impressed when I get a seven-letter word.
“What, you didn’t expect me to have such a good vocabulary?” I ask, eyebrows raised.
He shakes his head. “That’s not what I was thinking at all.”
“Tell me then.”
He leans close, his fingers running the length of my thigh. “I was thinking how you are everything I’ve ever wanted.”
I shake my head, almost imperceptibly. Not wanting to believe the words he says. Because it’s too much—the idea that I might be enough.
“You’re just saying that because you might have knocked me up.”
“I did knock you up.”
“Well, you mean, one of you guys did.” I’ve taken a pregnancy test—and even though it makes zero sense that it could already read positive—it does.
“No, all of us. You keep forgetting that when you mated, you mated with all of us.”
I twist my lips. “Feels a little too good to be true, doesn’t it?”
River smiles. “So, you’re saying you like me?”
I laugh, rolling my eyes, as he grabs my waist, tickling me. “Yes, River, I like you.” He loosens his hold and our foreheads touch. “I do like you. So much. It just feels a little like magic. The whole three daddies thing.”
River tilts his head to the side. “And you don’t believe in magic?”
“Do you?”
He shakes his head, looking back at his Scrabble tiles. “I grew up shifting into a wolf, Rem. Yes, I believe in magic. All kinds of it, in fact.”
“And finding me, was that magic too?”
He picks up his wooden tiles, forming a word. “You aren’t the only one getting a seven-letter bonus.” He places his tiles on the board.
D-E-S-T-I-N-Y
I bite my bottom lip, steadying myself. I don’t know how this happened—but it is happening.
My life is changing whether I like it or not.
But for the first time in literally forever, I do like it.
