(Leah POV)
I was counting with my face pressed into my forearm like it was the most serious job in the world.
"One… two… three… four…"
The air smelled like sun-warmed cedar and salt, like the beach on the rare day the clouds got bored and left Forks alone. The ground under my bare feet was soft, springy, alive. Somewhere nearby, ocean waves beat along the tall cliffs.
"Five… six… seven…"
There were giggles in the distance. Not the pack's rough humor, not Seth's bright cackle, something smaller. Softer. Like the world had invented a new kind of sound just to make my chest ache in a good way.
"Eight… nine…"
I could peek through my fingers.
I could pick out their location by sound alone.
But I refused, naturally.
Hide-and-seek rules were sacred. Even to me.
"Ten!"
I spun, arms wide like I could catch the whole forest in one grab. "Ready or not…here I come!"
The first one was easy.
A rustle behind a fern. A giggle that passed smiling lips. I crouched and lunged with a grin I could feel in my cheeks.
"Found you!"
A tiny shape bolted, fast as a rabbit and twice as smug. I chased them for three steps and let them win, because their laughter made my ribs feel full. They darted behind a tree and peeked out like they were daring me.
Two more presences hovered somewhere else.
I couldn't see them, but I could feel them, like warm points of light at the edge of my senses. Two that moved together, like they shared the same rhythm.
And one that didn't.
Not wrong. Just… different. A faster heartbeat than the others.
"Hey," I called, pretending I was stern. "No cheating. No climbing. Base is…"
A giggle cut me off again, and something about it made my throat tighten. Like my body recognized the sound before my brain could label it.
I took a step, and the forest shifted, my stomach went queasy.
The light tilted.
The air thickened…too heavy, too warm, and suddenly the laughter was farther away, fading like it was being carried down a long hallway.
"Wait," I said, and the word came out wrong. Smaller. "Hey…come back."
I tried to run.
My legs didn't move as they should.
The world dipped…
…and I woke up with my stomach flipping hard enough to make me sit bolt upright.
For a breath, I didn't know where I was. The room was dim. Warm wood. A ceiling fan turning slowly. Thomas's steady heat behind me and…cooler, smoother, unmoving…Edythe somewhere close.
Then the nausea hit again, fast and brutal.
I slapped a hand over my mouth and lurched out of bed.
Only by sheer determination did I make it to the toilet before the contents of my stomach erupted from my mouth.
I hated every second of it.
I hated the weakness. I hated the sound. I hated the way my eyes watered like I was crying over something as stupid as my own body revolting.
Maybe that late-night steak wasn't such a good idea. But when I looked below at what I had done, all I saw was phlegm and stomach juice. No sign of the meat, my body must have broken it down already.
My mind raced in different directions. I followed one train of thought that was trying to calculate the last time I had puked, it had been years. Definitely before I became a wolf warrior.
All the different trains of thought came back to one undeniable thought, it's happening again. My stomach rolled, and another splash of vomit was sent messily into the toilet bowl. It's times like these that I am happy we are obsessive about cleaning the bathroom once a week.
A cold hand touched my back and rubbed a small circle, hesitant at first, as if it was afraid I would object. My silence must have reassured Edythe because she moved her hand to gather my hair back so it wouldn't get covered in my vomit. Her presence was reassuring, but I hoped Thomas didn't follow her. I don't think I can handle that level of embarrassment just yet.
Another wave of vomit came, this time so much that it came out of my nose as well as my mouth. How humiliating. Tears dripped down my cheeks.
"I am here, Leah." Her voice was soft and calm, but I could still feel the worry she was suppressing.
Seeing my tears, she quickly wiped them away, "Hey. Hey. I've got you. You're going to be just fine."
I tried to believe her.
I wanted to.
But my body didn't care what I wanted.
Another wave hit, and I folded over the bowl. My throat burned. My stomach felt empty and still somehow determined to keep going.
Edythe didn't let go of my hair. She didn't flinch. She didn't act like any of this was disgusting. She just stayed exactly where she was, steady, quiet, present.
When the worst of it eased, I sat back on my heels and swallowed against the sour taste, breathing through my nose like that would make me feel less… wrecked.
My voice came out hoarse. "This is stupid."
Edythe's hand kept rubbing small circles between my shoulder blades. "It's not stupid. It's your body's way of saying something is wrong. God knows your mouth will never say that, miss 'I'm fine'."
My eyes burned. My throat burned. Everything felt raw.
"This is…" I swallowed and tried again. "This is humiliating."
Edythe's voice stayed maddeningly calm. "It's human."
"I'm not…" I started automatically, and then I cut myself off because I was too tired to argue with reality. "I mean…"
"I know what you mean," she said softly. "And you're allowed to be both."
I sat back again, shakier this time, and wiped my mouth with the back of my wrist. The sour taste didn't leave. It clung like an insult.
I forced a breath through my nose.
It didn't help.
The bathroom door was half open. I could feel the space beyond it, the house quiet in that early-morning way. I could hear the faintest shift of floorboards.
He was awake. Of course he was, I thought bitterly.
I didn't look.
I didn't want to see Thomas standing there with that expression he got when he didn't know how to help but would try anyway.
Edythe's hand paused at my shoulder blade, like she'd heard it too. Like she knew exactly what I was thinking without needing mind-reading to get there.
"Do you want the door closed?" she asked.
My pride flared. "No."
A beat later, I changed it, because pride was stupid and my stomach was mean.
"…Yes."
Edythe leaned back just enough to nudge the door shut with her heel, smooth and effortless, like she'd been doing it all her life. Then she was right back, hair still gathered in her hand, touch still steady.
"You're doing great," she murmured.
I let out a harsh laugh that turned into a cough. "I'm kneeling in front of a toilet."
"And you're still trying to be tough about it," she said dryly. "That's very you."
I should've told her to shut up.
Instead, I swallowed again, tried to calm my breathing, and realized my hands were shaking.
That's when the fear finally pushed its way past the disgust.
Because this wasn't a one-off.
This wasn't "bad meat" or "travel bug" or "fish smells weird."
This was… my body betraying me in a way I didn't understand.
I stared at the bowl, at the thin watery mess, and my voice dropped without permission.
"…Edythe."
Her answer was immediate. "Yes."
I hated how much my throat tightened.
"What if something's wrong?" I whispered, and I could hear the twelve-year-old part of me in that sentence, small, cornered, waiting for the world to hit me again.
Edythe's fingers squeezed once at the back of my neck, gentle and sure. "Then we deal with it."
"That's not…" I inhaled, tried to steady myself. "That's not an answer."
"It's the only answer that matters," she said. Then, softer, "You're not alone in this."
My eyes stung.
I blinked hard and stared at the tile so I wouldn't have to look at her face and risk something even worse, like her looking back at me with that fierce, protective devotion that made me want to both melt and run.
The floorboard creaked again, closer.
Thomas.
I could feel him hovering on the other side of the door like a heartbeat you couldn't unhear.
Edythe's posture shifted, subtle, protective, but she didn't turn around. She didn't make it a confrontation.
She just said, evenly, toward the doorway, "Not yet."
A pause.
Then Thomas's voice, low and careful, like he was trying not to startle a wild animal.
"Do you need anything?"
I hated that my chest warmed at the question.
I hated that I wanted to say come here and go away at the same time.
"I'm fine," I snapped, because of course I did.
Thomas didn't answer right away.
When he did, it wasn't arguing. It wasn't pressure.
It was just truth, offered like a blanket.
"Okay," he said. "I'm right here. I called Carlisle, and he is on his way."
"Fine," I muttered, because I didn't know what else to do with the relief and the embarrassment mixing together. "Great. Fantastic. I'm officially a medical incident."
Edythe stood up, "Come on, Leah. Get some water from the sink to wash your mouth, maybe brush your teeth, and I will start you a shower."
Her words were meant to be comforting and helpful. But for some reason, my mind went in a totally inappropriate direction, considering I had just finished puking my guts out. Hoping my blush didn't stand out, I quickly went to the sink and stared into my own eyes. Get a grip, girl.
I cupped my hand under the water and sipped a mouthful to swish around and then spit out. The next handful of water was splashed over my face. I reached for my toothbrush when Thomas spoke again.
"Umm. I will go down and start breakfast. Does anything sound good? I can make my French Toast."
I sighed, this impossibly dense man. I just spent ten minutes puking my guts out, and he wants to feed me. I opened my mouth after telling myself not to respond too sarcastically, when my belly rumbled, and suddenly I was ravenous.
Without active thought, words tumbled out of my mouth.
"That sounds wonderful, Thomas. Maybe add a rare sirloin steak… Make that two."
Thirty minutes later, I was finishing up breakfast and answering questions for Carlisle at the same time.
He'd arrived the way Carlisle always did, quiet, calm, like the world couldn't possibly be falling apart because his voice wouldn't allow it. He'd taken one look at me sitting at the table with an empty plate, a second plate half-finished, and a glass of water I kept sipping like I was daring my stomach to betray me again.
Then he'd looked at the counter.
Two more raw steaks sat there, already resting on a cutting board, waiting.
Thomas had his hands on a skillet, brow furrowed in concentration like the man was defusing a bomb, not cooking breakfast.
Edythe was leaning against the doorway, arms folded, eyes sharp as knives and soft as velvet at the same time. She wasn't actively pacing, she didn't need to, but the air around her felt like it had teeth.
Carlisle didn't comment on any of it at first. He just stepped closer, his expression gentle.
"Leah," he said. "How many times did you vomit?"
I held up four fingers. Then, because honesty was a rule we'd apparently decided to live by now, I added, "And I almost did again in the shower."
Carlisle nodded once. "Any blood?"
"No."
"Fever?"
"No."
"Pain?" His eyes flicked briefly to my midsection, then back to my face. "Cramping? Sharp aches? Anything unusual besides nausea?"
I hesitated, because the word unusual felt like a trap lately. "No pain. Just… Off."
Carlisle's gaze sharpened in that clinical way, no judgment, no drama, just analysis.
"And the food. What made you ask for steak?"
I opened my mouth to be snide and then closed it again because, annoyingly, I didn't have a good snide answer.
"I don't know," I admitted. "It just… came out."
Thomas finally spoke from the stove, trying for light and failing. "She asked for two."
"I see that," Carlisle said mildly.
Edythe's eyes flicked to Thomas like don't you dare make this about teasing her.
Thomas apparently caught the look because he quieted and went back to flipping French toast as if his life depended on it.
Carlisle continued. "Has this happened before? Any nausea like this since you began shifting?"
"No," I said immediately. "Not once."
"And your appetite the last few weeks?" Carlisle asked.
I stared at the table as if the grain might offer mercy. "Weird."
Edythe made a small, approving sound…like yes, keep talking, keep it factual.
Carlisle's voice stayed calm. "Define weird."
"Fish makes me sick now," I said. "Not sick like I'll die. Sick like… my stomach crawls up my throat. The smell alone is enough."
Thomas murmured, "Tuna sandwich incident," under his breath.
I shot him a look.
He held up both hands in surrender. "Just… adding context."
Carlisle nodded again. "And meat?"
I didn't want to say it out loud.
Edythe answered for me, tone neutral but eyes bright. "She's been craving it. Rare. The rarer the better."
I scowled. "You say that like it's a crime."
Edythe's mouth curved, wicked for half a second. "It's not a crime. It's adorable."
"Focus," Carlisle said gently, and somehow it landed like a warm hand on the back of my neck.
Right. Focus.
Carlisle stepped closer to my chair. "Any headaches? Dizziness?"
"No."
"Changes in smell?" he asked.
I paused.
Because yes.
Because everything smelled too much lately, like the world had turned the volume up and left it there.
"…Maybe," I admitted.
Thomas's movements stilled for half a second. "You didn't tell me that."
"I didn't want you to look at me like I'm… delicate," I snapped. Then I regretted it instantly.
Carlisle didn't react. He just tucked it away like a note. "Any changes in sleep?"
I huffed. "I sleep. Sometimes."
Thomas made a very quiet sound that might've been a laugh if it didn't come out strained. "That's not new."
Carlisle's eyes flicked to him, sympathetic. Then back to me.
"All right," he said. "I'm going to ask you a few more personal questions. You can tell me to stop at any time, but I need accurate answers."
Oh, I hated this already.
Edythe straightened from the doorway. Not aggressive. Just… present.
Thomas set the spatula down and moved to the far end of the counter, giving me space without leaving.
Carlisle's tone stayed steady. "When was your last menstrual cycle?"
My face went hot.
Edythe's expression didn't change at all. Thomas's did. He looked away fast, like he was trying to be respectful, but the tips of his ears went pink anyway.
I cleared my throat. "A little over… a month ago. In Ecuador. It was my first one since I started shifting."
Carlisle's eyes sharpened. "And since then?"
"Nothing," I said. "But it hasn't been long enough to…"
Carlisle held up a hand. "I'm not assuming. I'm gathering data."
Great. Gathered. Lovely. He must be where Edythe gets it from.
He continued, "Any breast tenderness? Mood changes? Increased fatigue?"
I stared at the water glass. "I don't know. Maybe. I've been tired, but…" I lifted a hand in a helpless gesture. "Everything's been insane."
Carlisle nodded once. "When did the nausea begin?"
"Today," I said. "Just today."
"And you've been sexually active," he said, still calm, still clinical.
My face went so hot I thought I might combust.
Edythe answered like she'd been waiting for the question. "Yes."
I glared at her.
Edythe didn't blink. She just looked at Carlisle like keep going, don't soften it for her, she can take it.
Carlisle's eyes didn't flicker. "Any contraception?"
That hit hard, because the truth was messy.
Because what even counted as contraception when you were a wolf who wasn't supposed to have cycles?
Thomas's voice came from the counter, low and honest. "We didn't… plan for it. We didn't think it was possible."
Carlisle's gaze moved to him, understanding.
Then back to me.
"Leah," he said softly, "it might be possible now."
The words didn't hit like a bomb.
They hit like a key turning in a lock I hadn't known existed.
My stomach rolled again, not nausea, not exactly.
Something else.
Edythe's breathing changed.
Not because she needed air.
Because her entire body had gone very, very still.
Predator-still.
Protective-still.
Like the world had just placed something precious on a table between us, and she'd decided she would kill anything that reached for it.
"Carlisle," Edythe said, voice too controlled. "Say what you're thinking."
Carlisle didn't look away from me. "Leah… I think you may be pregnant."
The room went quiet.
So quiet that I could hear the pan cooling on the stove.
Thomas didn't move. Not at first. Like his brain had to catch up to the concept before his body was allowed to react.
Edythe moved first, of course she did, but she didn't touch me. She stepped closer, eyes fixed on my face like she could will my fear away if she stared hard enough.
"Leah," she said, softer now. "Breathe."
I realized I wasn't.
I dragged in air, shaky and furious at myself for it.
"That's not…" I started, and my voice cracked. "That can't…"
Carlisle's tone stayed gentle. "I'm not declaring it as fact. I'm telling you it's a strong possibility based on what you've described. We need confirmation."
"Confirmation how?" I demanded. "You don't have a pregnancy test for werewolves."
Carlisle blinked once. "No. But I can run bloodwork. Hormone levels exist for you the way they do for humans, your body still functions biologically. If anything, your physiology is more resilient, not less."
Thomas found his voice at last. It came out rough. "If she is… is it dangerous to her?"
Carlisle's gaze softened. "I don't know yet. That's the honest answer. Not because pregnancy is inherently dangerous, but because we don't know what a hybrid child would mean for a wolf warrior, or for someone bonded to a hybrid shifter-vampire."
Edythe's jaw tightened at the word dangerous.
I felt it in the air.
Her protective instinct wasn't going to be sweet.
It was going to be ruthless.
"Bring your equipment," Edythe said immediately, already planning three steps ahead. "If we need to be at the Cullen house for monitoring, we will be. If we need to move Carlisle here, we will. If we need to…"
"Edythe," Carlisle interrupted gently, "one step at a time."
Edythe's eyes flashed. "I am being calm."
Carlisle's expression suggested he'd met calmer hurricanes.
Thomas stepped around the counter and came to my side, not crowding, just close enough that I could feel him there, warm and steady.
He didn't touch me at first.
He just said, "Leah… look at me."
I did, because somehow I always did.
His expression wasn't fear.
It was worry, yes.
And something else, care so intense it made my throat burn.
"We're not doing this alone," he said quietly. "Okay?"
I swallowed hard. "I didn't… I didn't ask for this."
Edythe's voice turned softer, almost fierce in its gentleness. "You don't have to ask for something to deserve it."
My eyes stung again, and I hated that too.
Carlisle nodded, already shifting into action. "I can do the blood draw here. It will be fast. Then I'll take it back and run the tests."
My stomach lurched at the idea of needles, which was ridiculous, because I'd torn vampires apart with my teeth.
"Fine," I muttered. "Do it."
Thomas's hand finally found mine under the table, just a squeeze, steady and grounding.
Edythe watched it happen with an expression that looked almost… reverent.
Then her gaze lifted, sharp as a blade.
"After we confirm," she said, voice low, "we tell Sue."
That hit me like a second shock.
Because yes…of course I wanted my mom.
Not Sam. Not the Elders. Not the pack.
My mom.
Carlisle nodded. "Sue should know. And it stays contained beyond that until you decide otherwise."
I exhaled, shaky.
Edythe leaned down and pressed a kiss to my hairline. "My love," she whispered, and the words were a promise and a warning to the universe all at once, "nothing matters more than you. Remember that."
I closed my eyes for half a second.
And somewhere deep inside my mind, the dream came back, laughter, little feet, warm points of light.
Two that moved together.
And one that didn't.
For the first time since I woke up on that bathroom floor, I didn't feel sick.
I felt terrified.
And…against my will…
a little bit hopeful.