Chapter 75 B-A-B-Y
The sunset was bleeding into twilight, casting long shadows across the porch, but the peaceful moment didn't last long.
"Baby names? Really?" Leela asked, looking at Jax with skepticism as she reached for her daughter. "And that didn't set off her grandmother radar? Elana usually smells a lie before it even leaves your mouth."
"It was a good lie!" Jax defended, holding his hands up. "Ginny sold it. She even threw a strawberry at me."
Leela shook her head, smiling despite herself. She bent down and scooped Briar up from the floorboards. "Come here, you little leaf-eater. Did Uncle Lugnut let you snack on the landscaping again?"
Briar gurgled happily, clutching a soggy teething biscuit in one fist. She looked up at her mother with wide, innocent eyes—and then, with zero warning, she burped.
It wasn't a cute baby burp. It was a wet, projectile event. A slurry of half-digested milk, slimy biscuit mush, and green flecks of the shredded leaf landed squarely on Leela’s shoulder and neck.
The smell—warm, sour milk and wet dog—hit Leela instantly.
Leela didn't even have time to hand the baby back. The nausea that had been lurking in the back of her throat since the egg incident roared to life. She turned, barely missing Fennigan’s boots, and hung over the porch railing, dry heaving violently into the hydrangea bushes below.
"Whoa, okay, I got her," Fennigan said instantly, his hands moving fast to gently pry the messy baby out of Leela’s grip so she could heave freely. He held Briar at arm's length, grimacing slightly at the slime on his wife’s shirt.
But it wasn't just physical.
As Leela gripped the wooden railing, her knuckles white, her Elemental control slipped. The pregnancy hormones were wreaking havoc on her internal dampeners.
Suddenly, the flower box hanging right next to her head—the one filled with the simple white star flowers that had been there the very first night she arrived at the Pack House—began to glow. The flowers didn't just bloom; they sparkled, twinkling like frantic little stars in time with her retching.
Then, the overhead porch lights flickered. Bzzzt. Pop. Bzzzt.
Inside the house, the living room lamps surged brighter, then dimmed, then surged again. It was a classic Elemental power surge.
The screen door flew open with a bang.
"Why is the house having a seizure?" Elana demanded, marching out onto the porch with Ginny right on her heels. " The chandelier in the dining room just tried to blink Morse code—"
Elana stopped dead.
She saw the scene: Jax looking terrified in the corner. Fennigan holding a spit-up-covered baby like a hazardous object. And Leela, the most powerful Elemental in a generations, hanging over the railing, dry heaving while the flower box next to her put on a laser show.
Elana’s eyes narrowed. The "Grandmother Radar" didn't just ping; it screamed.
She walked slowly to the railing, ignoring the flickering lights. She looked at Leela’s pale, sweaty face as she straightened up, gasping for air. She looked at the glowing flowers. She looked at the way Fennigan was hovering, his body angled protectively around his mate.
"Leela," Elana said, her voice dangerously calm. "You healed the land three months ago. You aren't sick. And those flowers only sparkle like that when your magic is... creating something."
She crossed her arms, fixing Fennigan with a stare that could strip paint. "Spill it. Now. Why is my daughter-in-law throwing up from a little baby spit-up? She’s handled worse than that cleaning the stables."
Fennigan sighed, a long, defeated sound. He looked at Leela, who was wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and looking guilty. Then he looked at Jax, who was shaking his head frantically as if to say Don't look at me!
Fennigan shifted Briar to his hip and rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand, looking at his mother.
"Okay," Fennigan admitted, his voice rough. "You got us. But get Dad out here first. I am not saying this twice, and if I’m going down, I want witnesses."The evening air on the porch was thick with tension, flower magic, and the distinct scent of baby spit-up.
Ginny didn't waste time. She yanked the screen door open so hard it bounced against the siding, leaned her head into the house, and bellowed at the top of her lungs.
"Grandpa is needed on the porch ASAP! Code Red!"
A moment later, heavy footsteps thudded against the hardwood. Damon Blackwood, the former Alpha and current leisurely retiree, emerged from the Great Room. He had his reading glasses perched precariously on top of his thick gray hair and a finger marking his place in a leather-bound book. He looked annoyed.
"What's going on out here?" Damon grumbled, stepping onto the porch and blinking at the flickering lights. "I was in the middle of a very good chapter. I'm retired, remember? Retired Alphas don't do 'Code Reds' unless the house is on fire."
Fennigan stepped forward, shifting Briar to his other hip to shield her from the wind (and to aim her away from his wife). He looked at his father, his throat suddenly dry.
"Dad," Fennigan started, clearing his throat nervously. "Um... you might want to put the book down. You're going to be..."
BURP.
Briar let out another wet, impressive belch. But this time, it was accompanied by a low, ominous rumbling sound from her diaper area. A second later, the undeniable, eye-watering smell of a blowout drifted up, mixing with the scent of the regurgitated teething biscuit.
It was the final straw for Leela.
The smell hit her nose, and her Elemental control shattered. The flower box next to her flared with blinding light again, and she whirled back around to hang over the banister, retching violently into the hydrangea bushes for the second time in three minutes.
Damon wrinkled his nose, looking from his heaving daughter-in-law to his flustered son.
"Well, um..." Fennigan stammered, pointing helplessly at Leela’s shaking back. "It’s... well..."
"Spill it, son!" Damon barked, tapping the cover of his book impatiently. "I don't have all night. The plot was just thickening. And like I said, I'm retired. Dealing with smelly diapers and sick Lunas is your job description now."
Elana sighed, a sound of long-suffering affection. She reached out and gripped Damon’s forearm, her nails digging in slightly to ground him. She looked at her husband with a mixture of amusement and pity.
"Damon, look at the flowers," Elana said softly. "Look at the lights. I think you are going to have to make them spell it out for you."
Leela wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, taking a deep, shuddering breath of fresh air. She turned around slowly, her face pale but her eyes shining with a terrified, joyful light.
She didn't speak. She just locked eyes with Damon. She took her hand and placed it flat against her stomach, right over the hidden flutter.
"B-A-B-Y," Leela whispered hoarsely.
Damon froze. The book slipped from his hand and hit the floorboards with a dull thud.
"Baby?" Damon repeated, his voice dropping an octave. He looked at Fennigan, then at the ten-month-old in his arms, then back at Leela’s stomach. "Another one? Already?"
Fennigan winced, waiting for the lecture on responsibility.
Instead, a slow, massive grin split Damon’s face. "Well, I'll be damned. You really are trying to fill the whole house."