Lydia took a deep breath and forced herself to let it out slowly. Scott wanted to help? Why? Because Stiles was the baby's father? Because, so far, all she'd gotten out of Scott was an awkward offer for a t-shirt after he'd ripped her a new one about Malia.
"I don't need Scott's help, I'll be fine," she replied. "I'm learning to hunt with Sara," she added. And if she was really that hard up with the pain that she couldn't handle it on her own, then she shouldn't have let herself get pregnant in the first place, she told herself.
Lydia had been, since the argument with Scott, preparing herself to take care of herself without anyone's help, because Malia didn't know her, she barely knew Isaac, she loved Stiles, but he wasn't really the provider type, and she no longer felt comfortable proactively asking Scott for help after he'd blown up at her — she still wasn't sure which he was actually upset about: not getting to have sex with Malia as soon as he would have liked or Lydia's big-picture logic with which he did not agree — especially since not a single one of them back home had even so much as noticed when she was suffering, or how greatly, so she didn't see the point in perpetuating it here.
"I can take care of myself, Stiles, I don't need a babysitter."