My gaze travels to Beau, then back to the screen. He seems similarly awestruck, but it’s harder to read if it’s excitement or terror that’s written all over his face.
"That's your baby. Early. Very early, but definitely there."
A sound comes from Beau's chest, low and constant, and his hand grips the edge of the table until his knuckles go white.
"That's impossible," I whisper. "I should be much further along. Or, not at all. I don't get it."
Leila glances at Beau, and he nods. They’ve obviously discussed this already.
"The implantation is recent," Leila says carefully. "Based on the size, I'd estimate the embryo attached roughly three to four weeks ago."
My fingers curl against the paper covering the table. "That can't be right. We didn't have sex then. I didn't have sex withanyonethen. And if it’s that recent, how can we even see it?"
None of this makes sense. Desperate for someone to explain it, I wave at the tiny blob on the screen and then at my flat belly that’s currently coated in clear goo.
Leila points to the image. “Shifter pregnancies develop faster than humans, even with latent genes or when the human is carrying the child. What we're looking at is roughly equivalent to six or seven weeks in a normal pregnancy.”
She sets the wand down.
"With delayed implantation, the embryo doesn't attach itself to the womb immediately. For want of a better word, the female puts the fertilised egg on ice until she's ready. In your case, the trigger isn't physical because there's no food shortage, or threat from other males. It's about the mother's readiness. For you, probably your acceptance of the bond."
How can I accept a bond I know nothing about? My head starts to hurt, information overload tipping me over the edge. Frustrated now, my tone gets a bit snippy, and my eyes sting, but I try to pull it back.
"This mates thing. And this mysterious ‘bond’." Pulling myself up on one elbow, I make air quotes as I say the word, gel getting cold on my stomach. "But I'm not one of you. I'm human. How can my body even do this?"
Leila leans against the counter, arms folded and glasses perched halfway down her nose. "How much do you know about your family history? It's possible there's a bear somewhere in there."
I freeze. "My grandmother used to tell me stories. About bears, about people in Black River having magic blood going way back. I thought she was just eccentric."
We all did. She just had all these wild stories. We were never sure if she even believed them or if she was just winding us up.
Leila laughs. "She wasn't making it up. Latent shifter genes are more common around here than you'd think. Diluted over generations until there's not enough to trigger a shift, but still enough for certain traits to persist. Enhanced immune systems, strong intuition, faster recovery." She pauses. "And in your case, apparently, the ability to delay implantation when paired with a shifter mate."
Lying back, I stare at the ceiling, one hand sliding my top back down over my stomach. "So, the nausea, the exhaustion... it wasn't the flu."
She shakes her head and gives me a knowing smile.
"Your body was adjusting to an active pregnancy. The symptoms would have started around the time the embryo implanted. That’s a tough time physically."
Beau shifts, regret written all over his face. We were both idiots for a long time.
"The visit to Ben's cabin, when you told me it could be easy if I wanted it to be," I mutter, immediately knowing when. The memory is sharp and clear. Exceptthisdoesn’t count as easy to me. "I felt exhausted that whole week."
Bone weary, like I could just melt into the couch and not move. I thought it was a bug.
"Sounds about right," Leila confirms, pulling off her gloves. "Tiredness is the most common first sign."
Staring at the frozen image on the screen, I let that settle through me. All those months ago. My body decided before my brain did.
Beau's huge hand covers mine on the side of the bed now. When I turn my head, his jaw is tight, and his eyes are fixed on where our fingers are tangled together. He's doing the same replay as me, working backward through every stupid argument.
Leila scoots closer to the machine and hits a few keys. "I'm going to print this, and then I'm going back to bed. Come back in two weeks for a proper check-up and please, call me anytime if you think of more questions. I know this must be a lot." She presses a small, grainy printout into my hand and gives me a kind smile. "Get some rest. Both of you."
Holding the printout up, I study the tiny cluster of cells, my thumb tracing the edge of the image.
"Thank you, Leila."
We walk out to the truck, side by side but not touching. In the cab, I hold the printout in both hands, tilting it toward theglow of the streetlight. My thumb moves across the flimsy row of pictures, and my emotions come in like a storm.