Jane

l can’t be pregnant… I can’t.

It’s too soon – too complicated. I don’t have the brain space to focus on such a momentous possibility, let alone figure out what it would mean for Ethan and I.

We’re already stuck in a holding pattern, trying not to get ahead of ourselves with feelings while our lives are in shambles… at least I am. Ethan seems as determined as ever that we be mated for the rest of time.

I’ve been terribly anxious ever since the possibility entered my mind, and as much as I want to find out whether my fears are real or just paranoia, I’m afraid to find out the truth. Under different circumstances l’d go to the doctor at the first opportunity, but I’m not sure I can cope with one more worry on my plate. Maybe it’s a completely escapist mindset – like an ostrich sticking its head in the sand- but as long as there’s a chance l’m not pregnant, I can go on pretending like everything is normal. The moment I find out otherwise, however, they’ll be no ignoring it.

It’s not as if it’s outside the realm of possibilities.

After all, I’ve always struggled with motion sickness. It’s more the fact that I haven’t gone back into heat yet, but that can easily happen with stress. Another time l might be ashamed of the impulse to hide and ignore my problems, but I’m protecting myself now. If I put any more weight on my overburdened shoulders, I know l’ll crumple under the pressure.

When I left Paisley with Ethan, I got very good at compartmentalizing my emotions, and those skills have come in very handy over the last few days. I put the possibility of pregnancy into a lock box in the back of my mind and focused solely on getting my pups back, but every now and then the idea escapes, slipping out of its secluded corner to torment me at the most inconvenient of times – like now.

“You okay?” Ethan asks, searching my features as I try on potential disguises. “Are the clothes too hot?

“No, it’s fine” I lie, giving myself a little shake as I study my reflection in the mirror, “what do you think?”

He turns me to face him, even though he could see me perfectly well before -I think he just wanted an excuse to touch me, After a moment’s consideration, he shakes his head, still not releasing me. “You’re too pretty.”

I snort, turning back to the mirror. Those are the last words l’d use to describe myself right now. I’m wearing boys’ clothing, with my bre*asts bound and my hair piled up under a wig and cap. My slender figure has lost any semblance of femininity in the baggy garments, and while some women might look stunning in pixie haircuts, l am not one of them. “You don’t have to flatter me Ethan.” l tell my mate, “it’s okay that I don’t look my best.”

“I’m not trying to flatter you, Jane.” Ethan replies seriously. “You’re too pretty to pass for a boy. This isn’t enough.”

“1 think you’re biased.” I tell him-wryly, turning my head from left to right and studying the lines of my face.

He insists. “Linda,

friend promptly emerges from the bathroom, dressed up in a

she appears. “I feel like

considerably taller than I am, and while striking,

beard it will be perfect, now what do you think about Jane?” He asks,

l’d believe it more if you weren’t subtly groping her:” Linda chortles. “But it’s not quite believable anyway –

my ear. “I think we need to put you both in some

disguise going to be?” l ask

age myself up a bit. Gray hair,

we’ll be an old man and two boys. No one

sight” Linda remarks, “but what about our scents? We’re both marked now” she reminds

in my bag. lt hadn’t been easy to create a new scent

death warmed over was absolutely

Linda, who sprays a bit on her wrist and inhales, coughing when it

and letting him slip his arm around me again.

our disguises.” Linda grimaces, assuming you two can keep your hands off one another

arches his brow. “Why? We could pretend

my head. “She’s right,

saying we’re a couple?” Ethan asks,

not an option.”

of attention and he steadfastly

clears

away from me at last, looking completely unrepentant. “Sorry

sure.” She mutters, though I think l see a hint of a smile on her face. “Jane, can you help me

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