Dom’s heart stumbled. Yeah, he felt really sorry now. He couldn’t look at that face and not feel terrible about what he’d said.
If the team weren’t here, he would’ve kissed Sinclair, maybe begged for his forgiveness.
“Sorry,” Dom said, his voice rough. “More later.”
Sinclair’s lips moved, as though he wanted to say something.
“Right, time for the daily brief,” Harris said loudly. The tension in the room cracked, and Dom could breathe again.
“Wow,” York said. “I want Dom to apologize to me, too.”
Gareth coughed so hard, his face turned red.
Dom let his knuckles brush Sinclair’s arm—just a brief touch. Part of it was to sate the need in his chest. But part of it was to say, I’m sorry, and he hoped Sinclair understood. Electricity sparked between them, rushing all the way up Dom’s arm. Sinclair sucked in a breath; he’d felt it, too.
Dom stalked back to the other end of the table and sat down, trying to pay attention to whatever Harris said. He couldn’t stop looking at Sinclair, though. He watched the way Sinclair eyed the bagged donuts. Then Sinclair peeked into the pastry box, and his eyes widened.
He glanced up at Dom, his neck turning red.
Maybe Dom had gone overboard. It felt more like a love confession than anything else. But it wasn’t love. Just some stupid infatuation that he couldn’t shake.
And now he couldn’t look away from Sinclair. He itched to hold him. To kiss him. To just press him against the wall and breathe him in, so his instincts would stop grumbling. This was bad.
At the end of the meeting, Dom grabbed the printed notes from Harris—he hadn’t heard a single word. Harris shook his head and sighed.
All Dom could think about was touching that scar on Sinclair’s abdomen, where their baby was.
“Hey, I’ve got an idea,” York said. “Since most of us aren’t attending bar nights anymore, what about a barbecue? Where we bring our families!”
Most of the team seemed interested—they were married. Dom would join in just because. He would feel left out, though. Then he realized that Sinclair hadn’t answered, either.
“You in, Dom?” Gareth asked pointedly.
Dom shrugged. “I guess.”
“Jesse? What about you?”
Sinclair wasn’t looking at Dom, but he nodded.
Dom couldn’t help glancing at him again—at the same time Sinclair looked up. Their eyes met. Dom’s stomach flipped. And the rest of the room faded away.
What had changed? Dom wasn’t this desperate before. Now, he needed to be on Sinclair’s good side, he wanted to patch things up. It was giving him sleepless nights, for gods’ sakes.
The station alarm rang, breaking their shared gaze. In seconds, the kitchen emptied, Harris calling out orders.
Dom was on his way to Truck 2 when Sinclair brushed past him, an odd, closed look on his face.
“I’m still mad at you,” Sinclair muttered. There was no heat in his voice. Just resentment.
Dom swallowed. “Sorry. It’s your body. Do what you want. I just—I don’t want to see you bleeding out. I can’t, okay?”
There had been a pool of blood around Mal when Dom had arrived at the scene. Dom had been furious with himself—for not being able to stop Mal. Then he’d raged at Mal, for leaving him. As though their vows had meant nothing.
Maybe part of him was afraid that he wasn’t good enough to keep Sinclair alive. That Sinclair might leave him, too.
The longer this went on, the more ammunition Dom gave him.
“I thought you wanted the baby,” Sinclair said.
Dom still did. So it hurt when he answered, “I’ll let you decide.”
He was about to turn away. Sinclair grabbed his arm. Then, quick as anything, Sinclair leaned in, pressing their mouths together—a brief touch, barely-there.
But it was still a kiss.
Dom’s heart crashed against his ribs. Sinclair hadn’t initiated any of the soft kisses until now. So this was important to him, too.
Sinclair released Dom and stalked away, his ears turning pink.
Dom’s spirits lifted. Things weren’t right between them yet. But it felt like Sinclair had forgiven him, just a little.
22
Secret’s Out
Jesse pulled the sodas out of his motorcycle trunk, heading over to the pavilion by the lake. He was early; there hadn’t been much else to do, sitting around at home.
Besides, he kind of wanted to see Dom.
Which made it a good thing that Dom’s silver truck was already in the parking lot, along with two other familiar cars. Jesse saw them in the distance—York and his omega, Perry, Alec and his omega, Ben, and three children running around under the pavilion, waving their arms in the air. It looked like one of Caleb’s snake dances.
The thing in Jesse’s abdomen twinged. He tried not to think about it. Every day with that uterus felt like a drag—he knew it was there. He badly wanted to take a scalpel to it, and he was on the verge of making an appointment with the medical center.
The sooner Jesse could leave his past behind, the sooner he could breathe again.
He trudged over to the pavilion, trying his best to ignore the broad figure at the barbecue pit, tending to some charcoal.
“Hi, Jesse!” Ben said brightly. His belly was even rounder than Jesse remembered. “I brought some donuts. Have you finished the rest, yet?”
The ones Dom had given him. Of course Ben would know. To be honest, Jesse was still regaining his appetite—the morning sickness had almost faded by now. “Some,” he said, noticing the way Dom turned a little, as though he was listening.
Jesse’s stomach flipped. Stop that, he told his body. Dom’s a jerk.
But part of him was happy that Dom paid attention to his arrival. That Dom had agreed to let Jesse have control over his body. That, despite his earlier wish for Jesse to go through with the pregnancy, Dom hadn’t insisted on it.
Maybe Jesse should’ve done more than just kissed him that day, but he didn’t know what to make of this new thing he had
