“You tripped and fell?” Dom glanced at Gareth for confirmation. “On your first call.”
Jesse’s cheeks scorched. He didn’t want Dom to see him as some fumbling idiot.
“Give the guy a break,” Gareth said. “There was toothpaste all over the ditch. Bet you fifty bucks that you wouldn’t have made it through without falling over, either.”
Dom scowled and turned away. “Make sure you’re ready to handle the next call. Quit teaching him to slack off, Gareth.”
Gareth sighed. “Yes, sir.” In a lower tone, he said to Jesse, “You know what, let’s get through this real quick, and you can go grab a shower. Can’t learn well if you’re scratching all over.”
How was it that Gareth could be so nice, and That Bastard had to be an asshole all the time?
Jesse made sure to remember all of Gareth’s instructions.
When Gareth dismissed him, he headed into the locker room, shed his clothes, and brought the shirt and pants with him to the shower stalls. Just to see if he could scrub them off at the same time.
Like the Facility, the showers here had no doors. Jesse thought he’d heard a couple of the guys grumbling about it, but it wasn’t a big deal to him. Countless people had ogled and prodded and photographed his naked body by this point.
None of his teammates had seen him naked, though. None of them knew the extent of the scars he had. Probably for the best that no one asked about them.
Jesse stepped into the very last stall, turning the water so scalding-hot that it stung his skin. He scrubbed the dried toothpaste off his scalp, dug it out of his ears, and wiped down his sticky chest with his shirt.
In the midst of all the other scars, that large silver line stretched right down the middle of his abs. That cut had hurt him inside, for weeks. He’d almost thought he’d heard Rutherford say something about six months, but six months had come and gone, and nothing had happened. It wasn’t until a year ago, that Nate had blasted through the walls of the Facility and pulled Jesse out.
With his body clean, Jesse picked up his pants, holding it under the shower to soak it through. Then he began scrubbing the paste out of the heavy fabric.
Oddly enough, water started to pool at his feet. It shouldn’t—the drain was right here in his stall. And there was no hair clogging it up.
With an ear perked for the station’s alarm system, Jesse scrubbed the toothpaste off half his pants, and shut the water off. The stagnant water was starting to creep toward the stall entrance.
He threw the shirt over his shoulder and stepped out into the locker room, searching for a plunger or a drain snake—there was no fucking way he’d let Dom blame him for this, too.
Right then, voices sounded from elsewhere in the station. The voices stopped outside the locker room and the door swung open, two alphas stepping in.
“I thought about doing some investments,” Gareth said to the person behind him. “Don’t have an omega to spend it on, but Sawyer’s in college. I thought it might come in handy.” Then he looked up, staring at Jesse’s body. “Damn, son.”
But because some higher power had decided that today was Jesse’s unluckiest day, Dom was the one who stepped in next.
The locker room door squeaked loudly as it swung shut.
Dom had stopped just behind Gareth, following his stare. Jesse’s skin prickled everywhere Dom looked.
So what if he was naked? They were all alphas. Big deal. Except Dom’s attention dragged over his skin like a physical touch, hotter and heavier than it had any right to be. Dom scrutinized Jesse’s chest and abs, his gaze dark, intent, like he was cataloging every single scar. Jesse fought the urge to cover himself up.
He knew he should. Those scars were from a time when he was powerless, at the mercy of his captors. But by hiding them, he was admitting to a past he was ashamed of. So he clenched his fists by his sides, and let Dom look.
At Jesse’s hips, Dom’s attention lingered. He could’ve been looking at the 301 scar. Or Jesse’s cock. More likely the scar, because why the hell would Dom McAsshole be interested in Jesse’s junk?
And yet something inside Jesse jerked under Dom’s attention. He fought the feeling of his blood swooping between his legs. Why the hell is this happening to me? Dom’s an alpha. I’m not interested in him.
But maybe Dom was being an asshole because part of him wanted to look at Jesse’s cock. That was insane. But still a possibility.
“I’m looking for a drain snake,” Jesse blurted, trying to see if Dom would react. “The shower’s flooded. I’m gonna fix it.”
Gareth waved toward the lockers. “First door, it’s unlocked. But gods, Jes. What happened to you?”
Dom’s throat worked like he wanted to say something. He dragged his eyes back up Jesse’s body, leaving warmth all over Jesse’s skin in a way that was so wrong, he had no words for it. Then he met Jesse’s eyes, his gaze unreadable. Intent. Surely it wasn’t anything good.
Gareth. He’d asked a question. About Jesse’s scars. And there was no way Jesse was explaining himself, not with Dom about to judge him any second. “Shit happened.”
Gareth nodded, heading to his locker. “Ah. Gotcha.”
This left Dom on one side of the room, and Jesse on the other. Jesse set down his pants, then his shirt. And he realized belatedly that the 301 on his shoulder was now visible, too.
It wasn’t like they were tattoos. They were burn scars. Jesse didn’t know a normal person who’d had numbers branded into their skin.
When he looked back at Dom, he found the alpha staring at his shoulder. Dom was fixating on the burn scars, then. Maybe, with the
