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He waited for more details.
I sighed again. “You’re not going to go and tell anyone this, right?”
He scoffed.
Right.
When had I ever heard Elliot gossip about anyone? The only time he shared details was if he or someone else needed help, to explain why.
“Ev wouldn’t latch. I don’t know if you know anything about breastfeeding, but it was this whole ordeal. The pack made me try a nipple shield, see a bunch of different specialists. There were so many hands on my boobs, it was ridiculous. He would latch onto bottles just fine, but wasn’t interested in the real deal.”
I glanced over at Elliot, to see if he’d fallen asleep, but he was still watching me as if I were the most enthralling person he’d ever met. Since he was listening, I went on, “So they made me pump, for the first month. It was practically around the clock, the pumping. Pump, feed, wash pump, sleep for ten minutes, pump, feed, wash pump, sleep for ten minutes… it never stopped. My life was hell. I finally told the nipple assholes to fuck off, and poured what was left of my trust fund after all the hospital bills and whatnot into formula. Takes a shitload of that stuff to feed a werewolf baby, but I did it. The money ran out around the time Ev turned one, and then I found out about the damned chocolate milk drinks from my pediatrician.” I shook my head, tired just thinking about all of it.
“When can we stop with the chocolate milk?” Elliot checked.
“Two and a half, according to the pediatrician. The one in this pack told me two is old enough, but the old one said two and a half, and I’m paranoid.” I stared up at the ceiling.
“Trust fund, huh?” Elliot asked.
I glanced over at him, and saw him still watching me. There was still no judgment in his eyes, just curiosity.
I made a face. “My grandma left it for me. I come from big money, but you know how the saying goes—more money, more problems. When I told them I wasn’t getting an abortion, my parents cut me off, and drained the trust fund. I got as much out of it as I could before they could shut it down completely, but no one warns you how much it costs to have a werewolf baby. Especially when your parents kick you off their insurance plan at barely-eighteen in an attempt to manipulate you into ending your pregnancy. Hospital bills are even more of a bitch than formula bills or chocolate milk bills.”
My eyes closed. “That’s how Sabby and I know each other—we both grew up in the same private schools, with money. She’s still got her trust fund though, so she’ll never need to worry about money. She works a few shifts at a restaurant for fun, as insane as that sounds, but other than that, her life revolves around books, movies, and TV shows. I’m pretty sure she writes fanfiction in secret, but she always insists she doesn’t.”
Elliot chuckled. “She does seem to always be available.”
“Yeah. She’d help me more if I let her, but I don’t. I’m stubborn.”
“Independent is a better word.”
My lips curved upward. “Yeah, I guess.”
“So have your parents ever met Evan?”
“No. They try to call me sometimes, and tried to visit once, but I don’t answer their calls. When they tried to visit, it was when all the drama was going down with SD in my old pack, so I was kind of a bitch. They kind of deserved it—but I also feel bad about it. If I’d let them in, though, it would’ve made SD even more violent, and I was trying as hard as I could not to kill him.”
“How did it happen?” Elliot asked, his voice quieter. “Don’t tell me if you’re not comfortable, of course.”
“It’s fine. You should probably know, since we’re mates and all.” I bit my lip, staring up at the ceiling. “His real name is—was—John. We were only together for ten days before he attacked me, and after he did, my wolf rejected him.”
Elliot sat up a bit. “Attacked you? Sabrina said he hit you.”
“Sabrina is a sensitive soul. You’ve met her; she’s upbeat, and positive. She feels everyone’s stories and pain like it’s her own. If I told her what had happened, she would’ve had nightmares. It would’ve changed her. So she thinks he hit me. And he did; he just did more than that too.”
Elliot sat up, his legs going over the edge of the bed.
I watched him carefully, waiting for him to lose his temper. “Do you want me to tell you what he did?”
“More than almost anything,” Elliot said, his voice grave.
I bit my lip, but nodded.
He walked the small distance between our beds in two steps, and then sat down next to me on mine.
I pulled the blanket back for him, and he slid his legs under. They brushed mine, and the feel of his bare legs on mine gave me goosebumps.
It was just the two of us, separated by a pair of yoga shorts, a cropped tee, and some boxers. The whole situation was intimate, but not uncomfortable for me. Not at all.
