Pursuing My Rejected Luna by Cara Anderson novel Chapter 289

Ch.59

Cassandra

Liam is fine at dinner. I know this, because if he weren’t, it would be about the only thing that could drag my attention away from my conversation with Noah earlier today.

I mean, what the actual fuck?! Who does he think he is? I’ve done everything he’s asked of me. I play by his rules. I do my best to stay the hell out of his way.

And he let me.

But now that I’m slowly inching toward some semblance of happiness, he won’t stay out of mine. Well that’s bullshit! I fucked up, I admit that, but does it mean I have to pay for it forever? He seems happy with Piper. If he still feels the bond even a fraction as much as I do, he has to know that guts me. Why can’t he take that for the win it is and leave me the hell alone?

I force my attention back to my son, who deserves it infinitely more than Noah does. He eats most of his plate- there’s a negotiation with Mara about dessert that he wins on the technical grounds that he finished his vegetables, which is honestly some kind of miracle, and Mara concedes with the expression of someone who respects a well-constructed argument even from a pre-schooler.

Eventually, I pry him away from the kitchen where he’s managed to wrangle an extra helping of chocolate pudding and herd him upstairs for his bedtime routine. He goes to bed without complaint. I read him his story- the wolf cub, always the wolf cub-and he’s asleep before I finish the second page.

The familiarity of our nightly regimen is a brief respite from my thoughts. But as soon as it’s done, and I climb into bed myself, they come racing back. I think about my last date with Jack, and whether to tell him about the conversation with Noah.

“Aaach!” I thread my fingers through my hair and pull at the roots, the pain grounding me for a moment. Because, why, oh Goddess why, does every thought in my head have to lead back to him?

Pivoting again, I wrench my mind back to Jack, wondering what telling him would mean-whether it would worry him, whether he has a right to know, whether keeping it from him is already the beginning of the kind of thing I said I’d stop doing.

I’m still thinking about it at ten PM when Liam calls for me.

“Mama! Mama I need you.” Something in the quality of his voice is wrong and it immediately has me on high

alert.

Not the normal Mama of a child who woke up and wants water or had a bad dream. Something thinner. Something that has an edge.I flip on the light to find him sitting up in bed and his eyes aren’t tracking right.

I cross to him in three steps and put my hand on his forehead and-

He’s burning up. Not warm, not mildly feverish. Burning, the alarming heat of a fever that arrived fast, that wasn’t there two hours ago when I kissed his forehead good night. It came on without warning.

“Hey,” Calm is not in my vocabulary right now but I do my best impression of it, keeping my voice level. Completely level. “Hey, baby, look at me.”

He turns his head and it takes him too long but his eyes eventually find my face and hold it—he can track me, that’s something-but there’s a confusion in the way he’s looking that isn’t sleep-confusion. “Mama, I don’t feel so good,” he says. Then his head flops to the side, resting on my shoulder.

1/4

+15 Bonus

“I’m here,” I coo, rubbing soothing circles on his back. “I’ve got you.”

work through the mental checklist. Temperature: wrong. Responsiveness: impaired but present. Color: too flushed. Breathing: elevated but not distressed. I keep my voice soft and try to force my heart rate to slow because his face is watching my face and children read fear in their parents’ faces the way they read weather-he needs to see that I’m calm or he’ll understand things are worse than they are.

I’m not calm. I keep my face calm.

I need Dr. Lukas.

Getting Dr. Lukas for a non-pack-member has to go through Noah. Because of course it fucking does. Goddess forbid I have access to emergency care without his approval. Like I don’t have better things to do than misuse pack healthcare resources.

But sarcasm isn’t helpful right now. I’ve known this since I arrived. The protocol was explained to me in no uncertain terms: pack medical resources are available to approved pack members, and Liam and I are not approved pack members, and emergency access requires Alpha authorization. I filed this information and hoped I’d never need to use it.

It’s ten-thirty PM and my son needs help. Which means I only have one choice.

I pick Liam up. He’s heavy-heavier than he looks, because he’s four years old and made mostly of determination and dense bones-but I’m not putting him down. I carry him down the hall, one hand supporting his back, one under his knees, his head against my shoulder.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, I knock on Noah’s door. It opens.

Noah is there–he was awake, thank goodness. Waking him up would be worse-and behind him, in the sitting area, Piper. On the couch with a book, looking up.

I don’t have time to feel anything about Piper being there. I register it and I set it aside and I look at Noah. He just stares at me until his gaze lands on Liam.

And then I see it, because I’ve spent months learning to read this face-there’s a beat. Two seconds, maybe. He’s reading me, reading Liam, deciding what kind of situation this is. Whether this is what it looks like or whether this is something else. A performance, a manipulation.

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