Chapter 39: Stryder Men

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This is why I should never say I'm doing anything because I am SO indecisive and change my mind a hundred times. I decided to break it down into chapters because it would have been TOO long. Next chapter will be in Callum's POV.

Thank you all for your kind words of support, they always motivate me to write and I remember why I do. Even in tough days.

Not sorry for the cliffhanger. Did you miss them?

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If Mom was  even slightly worried, I was ten times more worried.

Edith seemed to be the only one who was amused and confused at my predicament. "Your whole family is the kindest and most wholesome family, like, ever. What's there to be worried about?"

I heaved a deep sigh. "Double standards, Edith. No one did a meet and greet with you."

"Way to make me feel special." Edith's dimples appeared. She crossed her arms.

I looked down at myself, where I stayed at the clinic bed overnight. I tried to swing my legs over the bed quickly, but managed to tangle myself into the blanket.

"Freya, what are you doing?" Mom asked me, helping me out of the tangle.

"Don't bring any mirrors in front of me! Oh my gosh, I must look horrible. Everyone will see how I looked like I'm auditioning as a zombie."

"You look fine, it's nothing a nice bath won't help you with," Mom said. "I'm going to prepare a meal, but in the meantime, you can clean yourself up."

"So I do look bad?" I asked, daring not to look at Callum's direction. I touched my face. Mom ushered me out of there, but not before asking me for the hundredth time if I was feeling okay. Callum was asked, by Mom, to accompany me to my room.

Taking the quickest shower known to man, I wrapped my pink robe around me and stepped in my room. Ready for the interrogation my family would give my mate. Knotting my robe, I paused by my bathroom door watching Callum as he sat on my bed, flipping through what looked like one of my photo albums. 

His gaze was glued on the pages, inspecting them and a small smile was plastered on his face as he looked at old baby pictures of me. My heart constricted at the thought of a baby Callum.

Without looking up, Callum asked, "Feeling better now?"

He closed the photo album, and placed it on my nightstand. Giving one look around my book, and I couldn't help but remember his comment about my room: pink and you.

I nodded, feeling a little domestic having my bath robe, towel on my head wrapped around me and pink fuzzy slippers while Callum was sitting. In. My Bed.  It just hit me one thing he hadn't told me while I was at his pack, but what he told Mom.

Callum loves me.

My throat clogged a little, and I didn't even think when I practically jumped on him and hugged him tightly. Feeling his muscles flex underneath me. I buried my head to his chest. My favorite spot of his.

Catching him by surprise, Callum let out a small chuckle, but he reciprocated my hugging. "What's this for?" he asked, his tone light and amused. How he should always be. But never was.

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