Autumn After (Waiting Hearts World)

16. Epilogue

Cedric

It was time.

I didn’t know how my wolf knew, but he was adamant, and I trusted him. The problem was, I was twenty minutes away at the store picking up last-minute items for the baby. I hesitated, wondering if I should check out or leave everything in the cart. Ultimately, I decided to check out—I didn’t want to risk having to leave Willow to come get him if I arrived home and he insisted, which was very much like him. Plus, this was a list he’d insisted I needed to fill, saying that everything on it was a necessity. I learned early on not to argue when pregnant Willow got something like that in his head.

He hadn’t called or texted yet, so if my wolf was right, baby time wasn’t happening immediately. Still, every second in that checkout line felt like an eternity.

I made up for the lost time with a very heavy foot on the way home—how I didn’t get a speeding ticket, I’ll never know. When I pulled into the driveway, I left everything in the car and ran inside the house.

But Willow wasn’t there.

I followed his scent, hoping I’d be able to find him quickly. I didn’t bother with the porch steps as I flew outside and landed in the dirt, nearly slipping. Sid was passing by. “Oh, you’re back.” His demeanor was so chill and calm I nearly snarled. Didn’t he realize my mate was missing!

“Yeah. Where’s Willow? Have you seen Willow?” I gripped him by the shoulders and shook him as if he personally stole Willow from me.

Sid just grinned. He was a new dad, after all. His mate had given birth a month prior.

“Your mate’s with Fern.” He patted me on the shoulder. “All will be well, Brother. He was cussing you out for being gone and not having the new onesies here yet.”

We didn’t need new onesies, but my mate had seen a picture online and he wanted them. So off I had gone. “Where are they?”

“At the main house—”

I didn’t wait to hear the rest, running as fast as I could toward the main house. As soon as I got inside, I heard the sound of Willow’s moans, followed by a stream of choice words. Sid hadn’t been exaggerating about the cussing.

“I’m back!” I called out, finding Willow pacing in the living room, my sister on the couch.

“Good, because Fern won’t let me leave until you’re here, and I am not having this baby here!” he growled. He might not have been a wolf, but you wouldn’t know it now.

I chuckled. He wasn’t mad at me—he was mad at my sister. Good. Better her than me.

“Yeah, she’s a little stubborn.”

She nodded and gave a little shrug.

“Stubborn? Protective? Whatever. Get me out of here.”

I scooped him up, and he growled again. “Let me walk!”

“Okay.” I set him down, and we walked back toward the cabin, with Fern following behind at a distance.

“Do you want me to tell her to bug off?” I asked.

“No, she can stay. I don’t mind her being with me, I minded not being home.” He looked behind him and made a face. “I had one little contraction, and she decided to hold me hostage.”

“So the moaning earlier wasn’t from severe pain?”

“No, the only pain in there was your sister.”

“I heard that,” Fern chimed in.

“I meant for you to,” Willow shot back, rolling his eyes. It was amazing how much these two were like siblings—it was pretty wonderful to see.

“I got everything on the list,” I said, trying to change the subject.

“Good, because you’re not leaving again. I will not be trapped again.” Fern had not made him happy, but I couldn’t be cross with her. She’d been looking out for my mate. “These are probably just Braxton Hicks anyway.”

“They’re not.” My beast wouldn’t have cared about those, and he was all in protective mode to the point where he put my sister to shame.

“What do you mean, they’re not?” He stopped in his tracks, his eyes narrowed. “What aren’t you telling me.”

“My wolf told me to come home. You’re in labor.”

“And how exactly does your wolf know that?” He started walking again, our house only a few steps away now.

“I don’t know, but he seems sure. I’ll grab the bag. You go inside.”

There were actually four bags of baby supplies and one of them already ripping through. I managed to bring them all in with one trip. By the time I set them down, Willow was already in the shower. I didn’t think much of it, until I grabbed the clothes he had left on the bathroom floor—and realized they were wet.

“Not Braxton Hicks?”

“No. Stupid water breaking,” he barked back. “Now I have to tell your sister she was right.”

I tried really hard not to laugh, but I couldn’t help myself. “I’ll call the midwife.”

“You’d better mean by phone, because if you leave this house, so help me, Goddess—”

“I promise I’m not leaving.” Like I could if I wanted to. My wolf was not up for that.

I stepped into the other room and called the midwife. Fern, who had been waiting on the steps, came inside.

“He might think you are annoying, but you sure are a good sister.”

“Yeah, I have my moments.” She shrugged.6

When Willow came out of the bathroom, his contractions had started to pick up. Shortly after, the midwife arrived. He examined my mate and reassured us that everything was normal, saying Willow would probably have the baby before nightfall.

But he was wrong.

My mate was still in labor when the sun rose—after spending the night pacing, crying, sweating as the contractions grew harder and faster. We had tried every possible position, from being on his back to being on all fours. We stopped short of having him stand on his head. I was starting to worry, but the midwife remained calm, explaining that humans were different than wolves and we needed to be patient. We just had to “ride it out.” But I didn’t want to just ride it out—I wanted to take Willow’s pain away and meet our baby already.

It was around seven in the morning when the midwife finally announced that it was time. I helped Willow get on his hands and knees, and I helped hold him up as the midwife encouraged him to push. You’d think that after all he’d been through, this part would be short, but my mate pushed for 45 minutes before we finally heard the most beautiful sound in the world: the cry of our daughter.

I assisted Willow, getting him settled and cleaned up, while the midwife weighed and measured our baby. He then placed her on Willow’s chest for her first drink and excused himself to give us some time together as a family.

I sat behind Willow and our daughter, just staring in awe.

“She’s so beautiful,” I whispered. “So perfect.”

“She really is. What should we call her?” Willow said softly, gazing down at her.

“We never did decide on a name.”

We’d opted to meet our baby before picking a name, as if that would magically make the decision easier. And now the moment had come and no names were coming for me.

Fern poked her head in from the other room. “The baby’s born, right? Can I come in?”

“She’s still here? I was afraid I’d scared her away.” Willow smiled.

“Oh yeah, she’s still here.” I laughed. “We’re pack, Willow. You can’t scare people away. They’re nosy AF, but they’re ours.

We called her to us, and she smiled when she saw our daughter for the first time. “She’s beautiful. Gets it all from you, Willow. What’s her name?”

“We don’t know yet,” I admitted.

“Well, you’ve got two trees, you might as well have a third.” She sat on the edge of the bed.

“What do you mean? Like oak or pine?” Willow wrinkled his nose.

“I was thinking more along the lines of Oakley.”

“Oakley.” I tasted the name on my tongue and glanced at Willow.

“Are you an Oakley?” he asked our daughter who was starting to doze while drinking her milk.

“I like it. Oakley.”

“Can I go tell our parents that Oakley is here?” Fern stood up, practically bouncing with excitement. I was honestly surprised she hadn’t already run out to tell them.

“Yeah, go tell them,” I said, “but ask them to wait until this afternoon to stop by. We need some sleep. We’re both dead tired.”

Fern ran out, and the midwife came in to touch base, promising to return in a few hours to check on us.

That left just the three of us, my family.

“We’ve waited so long for you.”

We truly had.

“Oakley is a beautiful name,” I said. “Is that what we want to go with?”

Willow yawned and held our daughter tighter. “Yes. It feels right.”

“Fern’s never going to let us forget that she named our daughter.”

Willow laughed. “I guess that’s part of being in a pack.”

“It sure is.” I kissed his head. He leaned into me. “I love you, mate. So much.”

“I love you.”