The Luna and her Quadruplet Pups by Jane Above Story

Jane

When the pups are finally asleep, I slip out of their room, closing the door at my back and leaning against it. My knees feel weak and shaky, and I’m thankful for the solid wood at my back keeping me upright. I clench my eyes shut, trying to take deep breaths and calm down.

That was one of the hardest conversations I’ve ever had as a mother. Not because it was particularly contentious or fraught, but simply because it upsets me to no end to think my pups have been taking the responsibility for my sadness onto themselves. I haven’t been doing my job. I’ve been so caught up in my own grief that I didn’t even realize I was hurting my babies, making them stressed and anxious. Instead of taking care of them, they’ve been trying to take care of me.

When I finally open my eyes again, I realize that Ethan is standing in the hallway, watching me. My heart sinks – as if he needed more reasons to think I’m an unfit mother – I’m sure he overheard our entire conversation.

“Please don’t.” I beg, whispering so I don’t wake the pups. “I feel badly enough already.”

He doesn’t say a word, his dark eyes boring into me with piercing intensity. Pushing myself away from the door, I stiffly stride into my bedroom, going to my closet to retrieve the gifts I have hidden for the children. I gather the boxes, bags, wrapping paper and stocking stuffers, before reemerging and heading for the living room.

The stockings are already hanging over the fireplace, and a plate of cookies and milk a resting on the hearth. I start by laying out the wrapping paper on the floor, pulling out scissors and tape so I can begin working, but then a pair of very large, very familiar feet appear beside me. “I can do this.” Ethan tells me, pointedly eyeing my stomach. “You need to rest.”

“I’ve always set up Christmas morning for the pups.” I insist, feeling both defiant and near tears.

You might not want my company but I’m not going to let you take this away from me.” I almost add the word “too” at the end of my sentence, but stop myself just in time.

“You’re under to0 much stress and you’re clearly upset.” He remarks distantly, “it isn’t good for the baby.”

“What do you care, about the baby?” I demand hotly. “You barely even blinked when I told you.”

“It’s still my child,” Ethan reminds me severely, and if you’re unwell you can’t care for any of them.”

“Ethan, I got through newborn triplets all on my own, I think I can get through a little morning sickness and fatigue.” I insist, beginning to wrap the box in front of me.

“I know that, and soon you are going to have to do it alone, but you don’t right now. Let me help while you’re here. It’s why I agreed to this in the first place, so everything wouldn’t fall on your shoulders and you’d have some space to breathe.”

Ethan reasons.

part.” I argue, feeling my

think he’s going to refuse me again, but after a few moments of contemplation,

that I visibly start. “Don’t do that, you don’t get to do that anymore.” I object, even as the soothing sound washes over me, unwinding my nerves despite my upset. Why am I protesting? I

thinking I’d give anything for him to care about me

question as my wolf whines

“I was only trying

you that I wouldn’t need help if you hadn’t hurt

Ethan says obliquely. “It

and focuses on his work, letting the words hang in the air. We work the rest of the evening in a silence so heavy I feel the weight of it bearing down on me from above, like an anvil sitting on my shoulders. It feels smothering, crushing, and I wonder how much longer I can make it before

can sleep in. I want

but I’m not sure I’ve ever been less happy to celebrate my favorite holiday than I am today. For the first time I’m not mourning Paisley’s absence, but having my

don’t think I have any pride left to spare. When Ethan made me his prisoner I retreated inside myself, and when I finally left I hardened my heart against him and any other man that might come near me, but now I’m as raw and fragile as I can ever remember being. I

my bed on Christmas morning, I have to hide the fact that I was already awake and crying. Instead I feign sleep, playing the same game we always play when the pups

sinking deeper into my covers. “Mommy!” They whisper again, shaking my

the

mutter a bit more, groggily cracking one eyelid.

Wha’s happening?”

it’s Christmas!” They cry

I repeat, sitting up now and stretching. “Are

as if he might drag me from bed. I’m surprised when he single

an omega. In a few years I won’t stand a chance, he’ll be able to throw me around as easily

have to see what

“Well in that case, I suppose I

and lead me from the room. When we reach the living room Ethan is already awake and cooking breakfast. I smell coffee brewing, wishing I could have a cup but knowing the caffeine is bad for the baby. He looks up when the pups and I enter, frowning when