Page 68 of The Coyote's Veterinarian Omega

Cal seemed to sense my questions, shuffling his boots in the snow. Tom leaned closer—Christ on a cracker, he was tall, even taller than Cal, and how was I just noticing that now?—and almost murmured, “You wanna tell them, or you want me to handle it?”

Cal took a deep breath, as though fortifying himself. “I’ll tell them,” he said.

Tom clapped him on the shoulder, like some kind of encouragement.

“Can you tell us whatever it is inside?” Wyatt asked, already withdrawing. “It’sfreezingout here, and I don’t want the baby to get cold.”

He hefted our pup, as though anyone could have forgotten her. Tom’s gaze shifted to her, lingering a little. Cal seemed to color up to his ears, and I felt my stomach knot.

“Yeah,” Cal said, “let’s get inside.” He made a beeline for the house.

Tom caught him easily, murmuring in his ear again, something that sounded like “You can’t put it off forever, Calvin.”

“I know,” Cal hissed back, then stomped up the stairs, brushing by Wyatt into the house. Tom followed, nodding to my mate.

Cal pointed to the truck. “Clothes are in the back,” he told my siblings and my aunts.

“Do you want me to get you a fresh set of clothes?” Wyatt asked.

I barked my agreement. The door banged shut. I looked back at my relatives, but they were all around the vehicle now, shifted back into their human forms, pulling on various articles of clothing.

“Hey!” Wyatt called, hanging out the door, waving a T-shirt in my direction. I darted for him, grabbing the clothes and dashingto the garage. I changed in record time, then dashed back through the snow, ignoring my bare feet.

Everyone was just settling in, cake and cups of coffee in hand. Cal was at the breakfast bar beside Tom, who was sitting there with his legs bowed, hands in his pockets. Cal was still rosy-cheeked, and I couldn’t help but grin.

Whatever my brother had to say, it was going to begood.