Riley comes back, looking at me in a way that I can tell that whatever idea he wanted to run by Erica… it didn’t pan out.
“Can’t get into my ideas until I know if they’re good ones, but we’ll talk some more. Just look after yourself for now, Sherry,” Riley says. “We’ll talk in a few days.”
“They’re looking into things?” Mom asks, hopefully.
Riley gives her a tight smile. “Ran a few ideas past my mate. She and I will talk further. We’ll talk to you guys in a couple days.”
Sherry is a mess as Mom walks her to the car.
Pops asks, “What are you thinking, Riley?”
“I’ve heard of cases where a pregnancy can be supernaturally moved to another female,” he says. “I don’t know the parameters for it to work and don’t know which female would be able to do it, but I wanted to ask my mate if that would be an option.”
“I’ll do it,” Mom calls over immediately from the car, illustrating she’s got pretty strong ears, which I’ve always known.
“Val…” my father mutters.
“I’m healthy. I’m perfectly capable.”
“Give us a minute, Val,” my father says and we walk further away.
He looks at Rye questioningly.
Riley shakes his head and speaks low. “My mate said it wasn’t likely in this case. She’s gonna talk to her sisters and their great aunt and see if there’s any other ideas. She did say the coven can supernaturally protect the unborn baby from maternal neglect if there’s that risk. They’ll map things out to see what can be done.”
“The unborn child takes priority over my daughter,” Pops observes with sadness.
I squeeze his shoulder.
“I know that’s not what you want to hear, but in this case, if we need to intervene to protect the child, we must.” Rye confirms. “But my mate is also looking into whether we can incentivize her to take care of herself by mapping to see if it’s feasible to offer to sever the mate bond after she gives birth.”
“Right. That’s a good way to go. Keep us posted,” Pops says and claps my bicep, giving it a squeeze. “You okay, son?”
“I’m all right, Pops.”
“Closing in on the claiming?” he asks.
I blow out a breath before I say, “Bailey’s setting the pace.”
My father’s eyebrows go up. “You getting help with that? Like Brody?”
“No,” I admit.
His expression switches to alarm. “Fuck sakes, Jason. Remember what happened with Riley.”
Rye gives me a look of empathy before stuffing his hand into his pocket and handing me a bottle of gel capsules. The bottle has my name written on the label with the instructions,1 capsule every eight hours.
I examine it.
“If you need it,” he says. “Rikki made them for you. No crime in getting some help.”
“I’m good. I’ve got this.” I try to pass him the bottle.
He shakes his head. “Hang onto it.”
“Close that deal, son,” my father says.
“She sets the pace,” I repeat.