by Aiden Bates
But…no. Bennet was right. He needed time, and so did I. This was all so unexpected. So sudden. I knew I would’ve given anything to make it alright, but I didn’t know that anything could make it alright. Not right now. Not yet.
Instead of standing there until my knees gave out trying to wrestle with whatever was going on in my head, I trudged through the house half-dazed until I looked around and realized I was in Teddy’s old room. A few posters on the walls. An empty hamper that had once been constantly overflowing with crumpled t-shirts and dirty socks. It looked exactly like it had when Teddy left home several years ago. A glance down the hall at Jason’s door—which remained closed, and probably would for a long time yet—told me that it was probably much of the same.
A baby. I was going to have a baby.
I closed my eyes, feeling out the space around me and trying to reimagine it as a nursery. Blue wallpaper with little yellow rubber duckies plastered up between the crown molding and the baseboard. A crib in the corner, painted white. Little mobile dangling over it with airplanes, taxi cabs, tiny trains dangling over the place where my child would sleep at night.
I could almost envision it. Almost. When I opened my eyes again I’d figured out something to do with myself. Teddy’s old crib was probably still packed away somewhere. In the attic, maybe. Maybe in the basement or packed away in the old storage unit where we’d tucked away everything else from when the boys were young. I hadn’t wanted to keep it after the move to Fort Greene, but Roland had insisted. Thought we’d probably need it someday. For grandchildren, he’d said.
To my minor annoyance, it turned out that my ex-husband had been half-right.
A baby. A baby at fifty-five. It didn’t seem possible, but the little blue lines on that test clenched in Bennet’s hand couldn’t lie. Error-proof, the box it’d come in had said. Another baby was the last thing I’d been planning for my life up until that moment, but…
Well… No plan survived contact with the ground. Every good soldier knew that.
18
Bennet
The nice thing about deciding to take a walk after being upset was that first moment. The breath of fresh air. The feeling of freedom—escaping from whatever environment you’d been stuck in, whether it was Logan O’Rourke’s bathroom after realizing you were pregnant with his baby or my father’s home when I’d been seven years old, nursing a split lip and rushing out the front door.
The worst part was the very next moment. The one where you realized that now that you were out, you didn’t have any idea of where to go.
I ambled along the sidewalk outside Logan’s home for a minute or two, my head racing while my feet carried me onward mechanically. But this pregnancy was already changing me. I could feel it in every movement I made. Every step felt like it was done with so much more care, like my body was already working to ensure I didn’t trip and fall in a way that could hurt my stomach. Like I was already protecting the defenseless embryo inside me on a level so deep, calling it subconscious seemed inappropriate. This whole situation might have been a nightmare, but the way I carried myself now didn’t feel like dreaming. It was instinct, pure and simple. The kind of thing that was so hardwired into my omega brain I couldn’t fight it, even if I’d wanted to.
I pulled out my phone and pulled up the number I always knew I could call if I was ever in trouble. Mitch’s help wouldn’t cut it today—assuming he wasn’t still in Charlotte entertaining some handsome alpha or omega with a trust fund. Now I was in the family way, I needed family help.
I needed Garret. My brother. The only family I had.
“Hey, Ben,” Garret said, his voice as gruff as always. “What’s up?”
In the background I could hear Silas’s voice call out against the clatter of lunch dishes. “Ask him if he’s decided about his LPN yet!”
“Hey, Garret.” Despite my current state, hearing my brother and his husband in the throes of domesticity always lightened my mood. “I’m, uh…having a rough time of it, actually.”
“Fuck.” I could practically hear Garret’s temper firing up through the phone. “Alright. I don’t have anything else going on today. Who is he, and how bad do I need to fuck him up?”
I almost smiled. Almost. Garret had mellowed out a lot since he and Silas had gotten together. Married life had done a lot for the anger that years of living with my father’s abuse had bred in him. But it was good to know if I ever needed someone’s face broken, my older brother was just a phone call away.
“Honey… God, is he okay?” I heard Silas ask in the background.
“You can leave the brass knuckles in the drawer, Gare. Just, do you mind if I come over? It’d be nice to be around people right now.”
“Course you can. You’re always welcome here, Ben. You hungry? Silas and I just whipped up some BLTs. Could throw some more bacon on for you.”
I pressed my hand against my belly, feeling it growl demandingly. This baby had one hell of an appetite.
“That sounds amazing,” I admitted. “I’ll head over now. See you in a few?”
“Drive save, kid.”
The Long-Carpenter kitchen smelled delicious, like freshly fried bacon and warm, crispy toast. Silas had a sandwich ready and waiting for me, cut down the center and piled high with juicy tomato slices and crisp greens.
“Okay, let’s hear it, then.” Garret poured me a glass of sweet tea, shifting it from his prosthetic hand to his real one with surprising grace as he passed it over to me. He was getting better and better with it every time I saw him. “You sure you don’t want me to curb stomp anyone?”
“No one ever wants you to curb stomp anyone,” Silas commented affectionately, ruffling Garret’s hair. “Except you, maybe. Just let him eat, hon. He’ll talk if he wants to.”
“Thanks for this.” I nodded to the meal in front of me as I sat down at their kitchen table, my mouth already watering. At least, despite the morning sickness and the way my world was currently crashing down around me, I could still manage to eat. “I’m really sorry for interrupting your day like this.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Bennet. You’re family.” Silas gave me a smile that could light up an entire room, and to his credit, it almost worked. Garret relaxed back in his chair, staring up at his husband like he’d just invented happiness itself, and even my terrible mood softened a little in the glow of my brother’s happy little family life.
“You guys are good to me,” I mumbled, lifting up my sandwich and crunching into it. A mix of bacon fat, mayo, and fresh vegetables probably didn’t fall under Logan’s proposed diet of healthy organics, but in the moment, it was the best thing I’d tasted in my entire life.
“Sounds like you need it today.” Silas stood behind Garret and wound his arms around my brother’s shoulders.
There was a silence after that, despite not wanting to, I felt the need to talk. Silas was too kind to ask what was wrong outright, but he was so kind and considerate, I was pretty sure he could’ve gotten state secrets out of the President himself with nothing more than a warm smile and a compliment or two. By comparison, I was helpless to it.
“I’m, uh…” I chewed my sandwich twice, placed it back on its plate, swallowed, and…fell apart. The tears I’d been fighting back ever since Logan had suggested the pregnancy test that morning finally came out. Big, fat tears that streaked down my cheeks while my sinuses burned with saline and my chest heaved pathetically.
“Oh, Bennet— Here, you’re okay.” Silas plucked a tissue off the counter and reached across the table, handing it to me with a sympathetic coo. “It’s alright. Let it out. Whatever’s wrong, we care about you. You’re not alone.”
“I’m going to fucking kill him,” Garret growled from between his teeth. An impressive threat, considering he didn’t even know who him was yet.
“I’m pregnant,” I finally stopped sniffling for long enough to blurt out. “I’m pregnant, and I’m scared, and I don’t know what to do.”
“I’m g
oing to fucking kill—”
“Shhh.”
“I’m sorry.” I blew my nose, fully aware of how pathetic I must have looked. And sounded. And, just in general, seemed. “I didn’t know where else to go, and…”
“Bennet, that’s—” Silas and Garret shared a look as Silas moved the box of tissues to the table in front of me. “You don’t need to apologize. We’re just a little stunned, is all. Are you okay?”
“Who did it?” Garret’s jaw looked wound so tight, I was afraid his teeth might start to crack. His hands—both real and prosthetic—were both curled into fists that looked perfectly ready and willing to slam into a face until Silas sat down next to him, placing a gentle hand over the prosthetic one.
“I get it, Bennet. It’s okay—normal, even—to feel emotional about this.” What Silas was really thinking—what he must have realized I was really thinking—he left unspoken. It didn’t need to be said.
Silas and Garret knew my history. What Chris had done to me. Raped me. Hurt me, horribly—almost to the point where this pregnancy was supposed to be impossible, and yet…
And yet, here I was.
“You don’t need to fight anyone,” I told Garret. “I’m not crying because I’m pregnant. I’m crying because…”
“Remember what the doctors told Bennet after…it happened, hon.” Silas shifted his hand to Garret’s shoulder. “Being pregnant is dangerous, especially for him.” Silas’s smile returned, sympathetic instead of sunshiny this time. “You must be so scared. I kind of was too, you know.”
“I am, yeah.” I ran my fingers over the glass of tea, tracing a pattern into the condensation on its cool surface but not picking it up. “It’s just a lot to take in right now.”
“Okay. Okay, I get it.” Garret’s shoulders slumped forward slightly—but understanding where I was coming from didn’t stop his one-track-mind from returning to its original goal. “But if I don’t need to go beat some idiot alpha’s ass… At least tell us who the father is, Ben. Who’s this mysterious alpha you’re letting father your kid without even introducing to the family?”
I blinked twice, taking a moment to dab the tears away from my cheeks. I knew I had to tell them. Garret wouldn’t let up until I had.
It was just…
Well, Garret certainly wasn’t going to like my answer.
“Introductions aren’t exactly necessary.” I crumpled the tissue in my fist and stared down at it for a second. “It’s Logan. Logan O’Rourke. The Sergeant.”
If Silas had been drinking something in that moment he would have ended up spitting it across the kitchen. Garret, in turn, looked like he’d nearly just swallowed his own tongue.
“Well, can’t say I blame you exactly, but…” Silas gave me a coy shrug of understanding.
“The Sergeant?” Garret coughed, blinking rapidly and looking at me like I’d just told him I was planning on joining a terrorist organization. “Jesus, Ben! You might as well be having a kid with Freddy Krueger! Or—or, that guy in the hockey mask with the chainsaw, and the—”
“Jason Voorhees,” Silas supplied with a smirk.
“Or Satan.” Garret leaned forward in his chair, resting his arms on the table and shaking his head in disbelief. “Logan O’Rourke. Christ, Ben. Isn’t he like, seventy?”
“No, Garret, he’s not. He’s only fifty-five. And he’s still plenty—”
“No. Nope, no, absolutely not.” Garret shook his head harder. “I don’t even want to know. Jesus.” If he blinked any harder, he was going to jiggle his eyes out of their sockets. “Okay. Wow. Master Sergeant O’Rourke. Okay. So. What happens now?”
“That’s, ah…” I gnawed on my lower lip for a moment. “That’s part of why I’m so freaked out. I don’t actually know the answer to that.”
“How’s Logan taking it?” Silas asked. “He’s happy about the whole thing?”
“He’s…” I couldn’t say that Logan was happy, exactly, but when I’d left him at his house, it’d seemed like he was trying to be. “He’s handling it fine. Or, at least, he’s handling it. But me…” I looked up at them both, not bothering to hide the fear in my eyes. At least not now they’d already seen me lose it over the BLT they’d made me. “Honestly, I’m scared shitless.”
“I understand why,” Silas said softly. Meanwhile, Garret looked like he was still having a quiet mental breakdown. I could hardly blame him.
“Just a month ago I was actually envious of you,” I told Silas. “You and Teddy both. Starting families, having babies…”
“That’s sweet of you, Bennet.”
“If you wanted a kid, you could’ve come over here and babysat ours,” Garret grumbled, obviously still not too keen on the idea of becoming uncle to the Sergeant’s son.
“Ignore him,” Silas suggested.
Not a bad idea, all things considered.
“But the reality of it is…” I sighed, massaging the bridge of my nose between my fingertips. “I never thought it was possible for me. I do want a baby. I’ve always wanted one, but now I’m carrying one… I mean, I’m excited, but I’m also scared. It’s too much change, too fast. I haven’t even adjusted to my relationship with Logan.”
Silas laughed. “No. No, your feelings are totally normal.” He cast a glance down at Garret, who looked momentarily wounded. “Even though I was overjoyed to have Garret’s baby, and Jason is the apple of my eye and all, yadda yadda…”
“Lay it on a little thicker, why don’t you.” Garret nudged Silas affectionately with his shoulder, all bark and no bite.
“I was scared too, Bennet. And considering your circumstances, it’s totally normal. Have you gone to see Dr. Smith yet?”
“No,” I admitted. “I only found out this morning. Logan took me to the pharmacy and bought me one of those error-proof tests, and—”
“Error-proof my ass.” Garret flashed me a hopeful smile. “Could always be wrong.”
“But I’ll book in to see the doctor today,” I finished saying. “I just need to get my head wrapped around this, I think.”
“I’ll say,” Garret agreed. “Logan fucking O’Rourke. The Big, Bad Wolf of Fort Greene.”
I rolled my eyes. Even for Garret, that was overdoing it. “He’s not that bad. He’s a lot softer, more gentle than you think.”
“Yeah, well, he never made you do burpees until you puked. Or made you run five miles with an eighty-pound pack strapped to your back.”
“Nor will he,” Silas said to me. “Especially not with his baby in your belly.”
“I don’t know.” I forced a laugh. “He’s already started talking about putting me on a diet and doing baby yoga. But he’s been good to me so far. Or at least, he’s trying to be.”
“Do you want me to come with you to see Dr. Smith?” Silas asked. “It might be a little less scary if you go in with some back-up, you know.”
“Thanks, Silas, but I think I’m okay.” I reached for my glass of tea, gulping down a swallow and letting its sweetness pour over my tongue. “I just hope Logan and I can say the same when this is all said and done.”
“You should be open with him about how you’re feeling,” Silas suggested. “He’s an older man with two grown sons. He’ll have some memory of what his ex went through during those pregnancies. And…” He gave Garret a sad glance, reminding me of how close Garret and Jason O’Rourke had been. “He’s lost one son already. He’s probably having some complicated feelings about all of this as well.”
Suddenly, something in my brain clicked together at Silas’s advice.
Shit. I’d been so wrapped up in my own feelings about this, my own head, that I hadn’t even considered what kind of emotions Logan might be going through, what his mental state might be.
“Fuck,” I swore softly, rising from my chair. “God. I’m an asshole. I’m such an asshole.”
“No, Bennet, you’re pregnant,” Silas said. “It’s a lot. Believe me, I know.”
“Thank you.” I glanced toward the door.
“Thank you both. So much. I’m so sorry, but—”
“It’s alright, Bennet. Always happy to have you around here.” Silas gave me another sunny smile in parting. Garret, a subtle nod.
“Call if you need anything,” Garret said. “I’m not sure I can take the Sergeant in a fight, although, he is seventy…”
Silas swatted Garret on the shoulder. “We’re here for you if you need it, is what Garret means.”
“You’ve already done more than enough,” I said before rushing out the door as fast as my legs would carry me.
I needed to talk to Logan. Really talk to him, not just go challenging him and demanding answers to questions he didn’t have answers to. We both needed to go into this with an open mind. Me more than anyone.
An open mind. With a baby on the way, I had a feeling we were both going to need a lot of that.
19
Logan
As it turned out, it was all in the attic. Boxes and boxes of baby clothes, baby toys, baby buggies and baby bibs. Some of it hadn’t even been opened yet. Packages of burp rags, binkies and cutesy little outfits that Roland had received in surplus during one baby shower or another. So many things that even after we’d raised two boys, we couldn’t have possibly been able to use them all up.
I found myself being oddly grateful toward Roland and his insistence of keeping all of it as I sorted through the bulk of the stash. Even though he hadn’t stuck around to see whether or not we’d ever wind up being grandparents together, he’d unknowingly saved me a lot of money and time now I was preparing to become a father all over again. There was enough stuff here to outfit a new nursery and then some. A quick trip to the baby store downtown would sort out the rest.
But with that gratefulness came other, less feel-good emotions as well. An unopened playhouse I’d never had time to put together—even though Roland must have asked me to a dozen times or more—had been shoved into one corner, spending all these years doing nothing but gathering dust. A toddler-sized t-ball set I’d bought for Jason was similarly still boxed up. Hadn’t even been cracked open because by the time I’d had a free day to play it with him, he’d already long since outgrown it. The guilt settled in my chest, a heaviness I couldn’t shake no matter how many times I told myself it couldn’t have turned out any other way.
