Chapter 62 Lottie
My mom calls back about half an hour later.
This time, when his face pops onto the screen, it’s at a normal distance—thank God. He looks more put-together now. Hair fixed, breathing steady, shirt actually on properly this time.
Still… there’s a hint of sheepishness lingering in his expression.
“Hey, hon,” he says, offering me a slightly awkward smile. “How are things?”
I raise a brow, leaning back into the couch so he can fully see the look on my face.
“Hey, Mom. Things are good. Finally getting back on track.” I tilt my head. “I assume things are good with you?”
The flush is immediate.
It blooms across his cheeks and creeps down his neck, and he lets out a quiet cough, waving a hand as if he can physically dismiss the implication.
“Okay, okay—forget all that,” he says quickly. “What do you mean by 'finally getting back on track’? Were they off track?”
I shake my head slowly, letting the moment stretch just a little before I answer.
“I have to tell you guys something,” I say. “And I know Dad’s nearby, so… go get him.”
He freezes for a second, then his eyes flick off-screen before he turns his head.
“Hey—get over here!”
There’s some movement, a muffled response, and then my dad leans into the frame beside him. He adjusts slightly so they both fit on the screen, giving me a warm, familiar smile—though there’s a hint of curiosity there now.
“Hey, love,” he says. “What’s going on?”
I shake my head at both of them, a small smile slipping through.
“I wanted to tell you both at the same time,” I say. “So I only have to say it once.”
I take a breath.
“I met—”
“You met someone?!” my mom blurts, his voice shooting up so suddenly my speaker crackles.
I jerk the phone away from my face, wincing.
“Mom—wait—let me finish!” I say, holding up my hand instinctively.
He clamps his mouth shut, but his eyes are practically sparkling with excitement.
I rush through before he can interrupt again.
“I met my fated mate.”
The words come out in one breath.
For a split second, both of them freeze.
Then my mom’s eyes go wide—and he lets out a loud, high-pitched sound that’s somewhere between a laugh and a shout.
I pull the phone away again.
“Jeez, Mom! Calm down!”
“You met your fated mate, and you want me to calm down?!” he demands, leaning closer so his face fills most of the screen again. “I want to know everything! Why didn’t you tell us sooner? Wait—how long have you known?!”
The questions come rapid-fire, overlapping, his hands moving animatedly as if I can feel the energy through the phone.
I blink, then sigh, rubbing my temple.
“Are you done?” I ask. “Can I answer now?”
He presses his lips together tightly and nods, though his expression is still buzzing with excitement. My dad rests a hand on his shoulder, calmer but just as focused.
I shift slightly, adjusting my grip on my phone.
“I met him back in November,” I say. “So… almost four months ago.”
Both of them react instantly—my mom gasps, my dad’s brows lift.
“I didn’t understand what was happening at first,” I continue. “Every time we touched, it felt like… an electric shock. Like something snapping into place. And I couldn’t figure out why he was always on my mind.”
I glance down briefly, then back up.
“I didn’t know about the deadline.”
My mom inhales sharply, his hand flying to his mouth.
“Oh my gosh, Lottie…” he says. “You didn’t.”
I nod.
“I did.”
The weight of it settles in my chest as I say it.
“I didn’t find out about the deadline until after it happened. After I went into rut… and we consummated the bond.”
My dad’s posture straightens, his expression turning more serious now.
“And I marked him,” I add quietly.
Silence.
Both of them just stare at me through the screen.
The excitement is still there—but now it’s mixed with something heavier. Processing. Realization.
And sitting there, watching their faces shift in real time—
That’s when the nerves finally start to creep in.
My parents are fated mates.
So I’m hoping—really hoping—they understand what I’m trying to say without me having to spell it out.
Because I don’t want to say it outright. I don’t want to be the one to bluntly admit that I got my omega pregnant.
I’m hoping they’ll just… get it.
My mom’s face slowly shifts as everything I’ve said sinks in. The excitement drains just enough to make room for something else—shock, realization—until his eyes and mouth form perfect circles.
He just stares at me.
I cough and lean off-screen, pressing my hand to my mouth as a laugh slips out of me. It’s nervous more than anything. Disbelieving.
When I straighten back up, he still hasn’t moved.
Then, like he’s waking up from a dream, he blinks.
“So,” he says slowly, voice almost distant, “you’re telling me… there’s going to be a baby?”
My dad’s eyebrows are so high they might disappear into his hairline.
I shrug a little, heat creeping into my cheeks.
“As I said,” I reply, “I didn’t know about the deadline.”
My mom’s expression sharpens immediately, the softness replaced with something more focused. His eyes narrow just slightly.
“Did he know?” he asks. “Your omega?”
I hesitate.
Just for a second.
But it’s enough.
“Lottie,” he says, voice firmer now. “Tell me the truth.”
I sigh, my shoulders dropping.
“Yeah,” I admit. “He found out a couple of weeks before the deadline.”
Silence falls over the call.
“We talked about it,” I continue, quieter now. “About why he didn’t tell me. He said he didn’t believe in it. That he couldn’t accept that fate gets to decide who we belong with for the rest of our lives.”
I glance down at my lap, fingers curling slightly.
“But now… he says he doesn’t have a choice but to believe.”
The memory presses in—his expression, his voice, the way he looked at me when he said it.
“He was ready to tell me I didn’t have to take responsibility,” I add, my voice wavering just a little. “That I’m still young, and if I didn’t want—”
I stop myself, shaking my head.
I hadn’t even let him finish that sentence.
Because in what world would I not want him?
I’ve wanted him since the first time I saw him. Before I knew what he was to me. Before I understood any of this.
Something in me already knew.
Fated or not—
He was it.
I look back at the screen.
My mom nods slowly, understanding softening his expression.
“Yeah,” he says quietly. “I understand how doubt can affect decisions.”
He glances at my dad, then back at me.
“And now that he’s pregnant… is he willing to give you a chance?” he asks. “Who is he to you that made him hesitate like that in the first place?”
There it is.
The real question.
The root of everything.
I take a breath.
“He’s my professor,” I say.
Both of them still.
“He’s ten years older than me,” I add.
A beat.
“And… he’s the one who created the MemorIES machine.”
The reaction is immediate.
My dad’s eyes go wide, his whole posture shifting forward.
“Your fated mate is Patrick fucking Hale?!” he blurts, then winces slightly. “Excuse my language—but the Patrick Hale?”
I can’t help it—I laugh.
“Yeah,” I say. “One and the same.”
A broad, excited grin spreads across his face.
“When can we meet him?” he asks immediately. “I want to meet him in person.”
I smirk.
“Of course you do.”
My mom cuts in, still catching up. “Who’s Patrick Hale?”
My dad turns to him, looking incredulous. “Angel, I talked about him nonstop like seven years ago when the machine first came out,” he says. “I told you how hard I had to work to get on that investor team he personally selected.”
Understanding dawns across my mom’s face.
“Ohhh,” he says slowly. “That guy. The one who was so young when he invented it.”
Dad nods eagerly, then looks back at me, still energized. “So?” he presses. “When can we meet him?”
I chuckle softly, shaking my head.
“I’ll talk to him,” I say. “Maybe we can come during spring break.”
And even as I say it—
Something in my chest tightens.
Because now it’s real.
Not just between me and Patrick.
But everywhere that matters.