“I never thought this would happen,” Felix murmurs. After all that they’ve been through, and after all the times he doubted they’d ever get together again, this still feels a little like a dream.
Kade rubs a gentle thumb over his wrist. The new bonding mark has become a silvery scar, matching Kade’s and that is a reminder in itself. They’ve lost some, gained more, and Felix can’t regret the things that have blossomed between them. They have a beautiful daughter now, a cozy home with warm smiles and joyful laughter.
“And the most important questions of them all,” the minister says, an elderly man with twinkling eyes and half-moon glasses. “Kaden Brentwood, will you take this omega to be your husband, to love and to cherish for the rest of your life?”
“I do,” Kade says, his eyes locked with Felix. Felix’s breath hitches.
“And Felix Henry, will you take this alpha to be your husband, to love and to cherish for the rest of your life?”
“I do,” Felix says, and it’s the easiest promise he’s ever had to make. He’s always loved Kade, and he’s Kade’s for the next twenty, forty, hundred years.
Kade’s face lights up. He leans in, brushing their lips together, and in that moment, there is only them, and the brightest future ahead.
1
Omega’s Secret Pregnancy bonus scene 1
At ten years old, Kade finds his science teacher, Mrs. Mulberry, drinking coffee in the lab prep room. She waves her mug about, coffee sloshing up the sides, splashing onto the floor. The lab tech, Jones, frowns at the brown spills on the tiles, and Mrs. Mulberry rants about her Great Aunt Mary burning cookies in the oven.
Well, Kade’s mom bakes chocolate chip cookies better than that.
“You said we’re not supposed to drink in the science lab,” Kade blurts from the prep room doorway.
Both Mrs. Mulberry and Jones turn to look at him, a drop of coffee clinging to the bottom of Mulberry’s mug. She waves him off. “This isn’t the lab, Kade. It’s outside.”
But chemicals crowd along the wall-high shelves—glass jars, plastic bottles, zip-locked bags of labeled crystals. The science labs don’t even hold this many chemicals, compared to the prep room.
“That’s ‘cuz she’s a teacher,” Jones says, looking down his pointed nose at Kade. “You aren’t supposed to be here.”
Kade shrugs and wanders off, thinking about the plants Jones grows in the prep room cabinet. Maybe he’ll look at them another time. Mom says lab techs aren’t supposed to be growing plants in the cabinets. Or if they do, they’re not supposed to yell at Kade for looking at them.
Kade makes his way to the playground, thinking about milk-coffee splotches on the prep room tile, and teachers breaking rules.
He finds Felix in his usual corner, three sandy hills around him. “Mulberry drinks coffee in the prep room,” Kade says, kicking at the ground. “She’s a hypocrite.”
Felix looks up with a smile, his hands covered in sand. The scar on his wrist gleams pale in the sunlight. “She’s nice. I like her.”
“Still a hypocrite.” Kade tells him about the coffee. Sometimes, Felix sneaks to the labs with him to look at the bright cabinet lamps and Jones’s precious plants. “They break all the rules. Mom says if Jones can grow plants in the cabinet, we should be allowed to grow one, too. I told him that last week. He told me to get lost.”
“He’s not like Mrs. Mulberry.” Felix makes a face. He scoops sand onto his third dune, a breeze scattering some of it. “At least she smiles at me.”
“Everyone else smiles at you.” Kade pauses. “At least, the important people do.”
“Not everyone does. I wish my father would.”
Kade remembers the stern face of Alastor Henry, and winces. “Your dad is a jerk.”
Felix shrugs, his shoulders drooping.
They sit in silence, Felix building his fourth pile of sand, Kade watching him, looking at his pale skin, his pink mouth. The other kids in the playground race down the slide, whoop on the merry-go-round, screech on the swings. Further out on the field, other kids play baseball.
It’s recess right now; they still have three more classes before the day ends. Felix says school’s out for his brother, but Kade and Felix still have a week left to go before term break. It’s not fair, Kade thinks. We should all be out of school at the same time.
Past the hedges around the school, tinny strains of music drift over. It’s a melody with no vocals, but Kade recognizes it anyway: Camptown ladies sing this song, doo-dah, doo-dah!
Felix glances up. “Ice cream truck?” he whispers, craning his neck. “I’ve never had ice cream from an ice cream truck.”
Kade stares. Every kid he knows flocks to the ice cream truck when it rolls down his street. “You’ve never? How?”
Felix pokes a line of holes down the side of his hill, gaze downcast. “Father never lets me. I’m always supposed to be doing my homework, and only Taylor gets to go to the ice cream truck. I get too many questions wrong in my tests.”
“That’s not fair,” Kade says.
Felix shrugs. “Taylor shares his ice cream with me. It’s not so bad.”
The tinny music grows louder, as though the truck’s rounding the street corner right outside the school. Kade feels around in his pocket. “Damn it! I’ve only got a couple quarters left. Not enough for an ice cream.”
Felix looks over. “I have some money, but the bell will ring in two minutes.”
“Rules don’t matter,” Kade says, thinking about the science teacher and her mug of coffee. “I don’t think Mulberry’s gonna care if we’re late for her class.”
Felix chews on his lip. Then he reaches into his own pocket, pulling out a handful of rumpled bills. “That’s my pocket money for the week.”
Kade stares. His parents give him quarters to buy lunch
