And even though an arranged marriage had burned him once, Dale put on a smile. “I believe that Penny Fleming may be his best match.”
Bernard scrutinized her photo. “She seems familiar. Is she the police chief’s daughter? Stan Fleming?”
Dale hid his wince behind a smile. Was she? Penny had never mentioned it. “It’s very possible. She is the friendliest omega I’ve ever come across—capable, inquisitive, adaptable. Slightly older than Greg is, if you don’t mind a three-year difference?”
Bernard’s forehead furrowed. “Three years?”
“Yes,” Dale said, hesitating. “Their ages aren’t shown, but you’ll be able to judge by their birth years.”
Bernard flipped past Penny’s profile to the next omega. Dale watched him with a morbid fascination. Three years, and you’re dropping her like a hot beaker. What about a twenty-year difference?
The college president paged through the stack again, his lips thinning with distaste. “Very well. This is a valuable list. I’ll look through it again and reach out if I find another suitable candidate.”
Dale exhaled, relief crawling through his bones. Time to go. “Feel free to contact me anytime, sir. My lab is very accommodating with requests.”
They stood to shake hands, and Bernard eyed him, his gaze critical. Then his nostrils flared, and Dale’s heart stopped beating.
“You smell like aspen,” Bernard said, meeting his eyes.
Dale froze. Three full-body coats of suppressant hadn’t been enough. Heart thudding, he tilted his head, hoping it conveyed confusion. “Yes. I’ve been around a few alphas with that scent lately.”
“Oddly enough, Greg’s scent is the same,” Bernard said, eyeing him.
“Oh? I had no idea. It’s been a while since I’ve talked to the undergrads—my post-docs are the ones guiding them.”
“Very well,” Bernard said. But doubt lingered in his gaze, and Dale needed to get out of his office. Before Bernard somehow identified the scents Greg had left on his skin.
“If you have nothing else for me, I’ll take my leave,” Dale said.
“I’ll see you again. Thank you for coming down.”
Dale couldn’t escape the suffocating silence quickly enough. But even after the door closed behind him, he still felt Bernard’s stare, analyzing and suspicious.
Bernard had smelled his son on Dale.
They weren’t even a week into this dating thing, and Dale had to stop seeing Greg.
13
Greg
Greg spun on his feet, took aim, and shot.
The basketball arced through the air toward the backboard, dropping neatly through the hoop. The netting hugged the ball for a split second, and the ball hurtled toward the floor, bouncing back up.
Greg jogged across the court for it, his soles squeaking across the tan floors. In the other courts, people played casual games—there was no practice today. His court happened to be unused right now.
He caught the basketball, barely focusing on his moves. He’d come here after class so he could work out some of that pent-up unease in his chest, and it was working. Slowly.
Without the press of opposing teams around him, Greg thought about Dale again. This morning in the lab, when Penny had gone up to the professor, asking questions so loud the entire lab heard. He’d wanted to stride up and step in front of Dale, and snarl at Penny, Mine.
He knew he shouldn’t blame Dale for his lies. But damn, if Greg could get over We’re still deciding on a wedding date.
Dale had known he was listening. He’d known Greg would return to his apartment this evening. And it had felt like a slap, Dale pretending to be engaged to June. June wasn’t his alpha. He was carrying Greg’s baby.
This morning, in Dale’s kitchen, Greg had sunken to his knees, sucking Dale off. Dale had grasped his hair and writhed, moaning Greg’s name.
To have him ignore that an hour later, well. It hurt.
Greg took a running leap, dunking the basketball through the hoop. It felt empty when the ball fell through the net, bouncing away. Unlike in a game, this goal meant nothing.
From every angle, the situation couldn’t last. If Greg stuck with Dale and married him, his dad would find out. He’d probably fire Dale. If Greg left Dale, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself. Dale’s ex had let him down, broken him, and Greg wasn’t going to pull that same shit on his omega.
I don’t love you, Dale had said yesterday, his eyes solemn. Except he’d huddled up in Greg’s arms, clinging to him like he had nothing else to hold onto. He hadn’t wanted to step away today, either.
So maybe Greg could understand why Dale had lied. Regardless of what Dale wanted, his job was at stake. Greg shouldn’t be a jerk, demanding Dale acknowledge the baby’s alpha father.
But Dale wasn’t the only one with doubts. Greg was still trying to process the baby. It spoke too much about a future, about making promises he wasn’t sure he could keep.
Aside from his parents, he’d never told anyone about Tony. About that camping trip four years ago, when they’d spent hours on the inland sea. Greg had shared so much with his best friend. The time they’d skipped school together, the time they’d ridden through town cosplaying as Super Alpha and Vilso. The time Greg had fooled around with Tony, and the condom had torn.
They weren’t going to be mates—they had dated, and then broken up, returning to being best friends. But Greg had still loved Tony as a friend. In a moment of Greg’s idiocy, Tony had lost his life, and their dreams had shattered in a night.
All it had taken was a candle flame leaping onto a curtain, and a cabin made of dry wood.
If Tony were still around, what would he have said about Dale? About Greg becoming a dad? Would he have clapped Greg on the back? Greg could almost hear Tony’s voice, as though Tony was trying to talk to him though rush of water. Throat tight with
