Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Tatum
If there was one thing I knew growing up, it was that I wanted a big family. I wanted children-multiple. I wanted my kids to have someone to rely on other than myself and my mate. I wanted them to have a close friendship with one another.
I always knew this. I always knew that one day the time would come, but I figured it would be far in the future. However, as I stared down at the light blue box sticking out of the bathroom trashcan, I couldn't stop the surprise from overtaking me.
My eyes drifted toward the door. I knew without a doubt that Nixon was sitting curled up with our pets on the other side. Was this his? When would he have found time to take a pregnancy test? Was he..?
"Tate, you okay? I can feel your nerves through our bond," Nixon linked me.
I took a deep breath. "Yeah, I'm just thinking about how busy next week is going to be."
Forcing my eyes away from the discarded box, I washed my hands before opening the bathroom door and heading back to where my mate sat. I stared at his face, looking for signs of something being off. Nixon never was the best at hiding his emotions, but there was nothing unusual about him. He sat comfortably on the bed, staring at me with the all-too-familiar warmth in his eyes.
I walked up and retook my spot on the bed beside him. Once I situated, I sniffed slightly in an attempt to find any change in his scent. There wasn't any, though. It was the same herbal fragrance I knew and loved.
Was that box really his? I hadn't actually seen the stick, so maybe it was a negative? That would make more sense. I wasn't even sure if Nixon and I could have biological children, and it hadn't been something we discussed. Maybe I was just jumping to conclusions and should drop the whole thing.
A hand touched my shoulder, and I turned to stare at my mate's concerned face. "Are you sure you're okay? You seem out of it."
"I'm just a little tired," I told him and leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek. "I'm fine."
...
I was not fine.
I was far, far from fine. It had been two days since I found the box, and Nixon was behaving strangely. If there was one thing Nixon would never turn down, it was food. Maybe I was more aware now, but over the past two days, I had noticed that he was turning down more and more options. Not to mention his sudden acquisition of a filter. I knew Nixon, and I knew that he typically just said whatever was on his mind, but he was being more deliberate now, carefully choosing what words to say and what to not. And, for lack of better words, it was driving me abso-fucking-lutely crazy.
"Are you in the mood for burgers tonight?" I asked.
Without really considering the question, Nixon's face scrunched up, and he shook his head. "No, I don't really want that."
