Fifty yards from Dale, the truck rumbled ever closer, weaving between the two lanes. Between the guard rail and the other cars, there was no space for Greg to make a U-turn. They were trapped.
Unbidden, Tony’s face flashed through his thoughts. Tony had frozen like Dale, paralyzed by fear. And Greg had taken too long to rescue him.
In that moment, Greg knew the choices he had. He swallowed the bile in his throat, stepping down on the gas pedal. Dale was his omega.
And the only sure way to protect him was to stop the truck.
Greg urged the Porsche forward, ten yards, then twenty, passing Dale. He didn’t pull his eyes away to glance at Dale’s face, but gods, he wanted to. Instead, Greg gripped his steering wheel, slowing down when he neared the truck. The truck careened into his lane again.
He held his breath as the truck loomed up before him, shifting the gears to neutral.
The truck headed for him, ten yards away, then five, then one.
Then it crashed into the Porsche and Greg hit the brakes, and all he could think about was his omega, that he’d protected his omega this time.
36
Dale
One minute ago
There was nowhere to run.
On Dale’s left, there was the road with its oncoming cars. On the right, the grass dropped off past the guard rail, closed off by another road. Dale wasn’t sure he could climb the guard rail in time, if it would offer enough protection from the truck.
For moments, he stood, holding his belly, wishing he’d never hurried down this road. The truck rumbled ever closer. It could stay in its lane and completely miss him, or it could veer into the guard rail, and flatten him.
Except a red Porsche sped by, heading for the weaving truck. Dale stared, struck by the familiarity of it.
It couldn’t be Greg’s car. It couldn’t.
But he recognized the license plate, with Meadowfall Lions in bold print on the plate frame, and his breath froze in his lungs.
“Greg,” Dale cried, horror crawling up his throat. But maybe Greg couldn’t hear him, because he was speeding away, hitting his brakes as he headed straight for the truck. The truck’s brakes shrieked.
With a sickening crunch, the Porsche crashed into the truck’s chrome bumper, and Dale’s heart stopped.
The hood of the car crumpled, and the truck shoved it backward, slowing to a halt. Dale staggered, dizzy, unable to breathe.
Please don’t die. Please don’t die, Greg.
In the steps it took to bring him closer, Dale regretted all the months he’d spent away from Greg. He regretted pushing Greg away, regretted thinking that their differences mattered.
Because right now, none of that did. All he cared about was whether Greg was alive. If Greg died, if he was gone... Then what did it matter if Dale was twenty years older? That he’d lost his tenure? That Bernard Hastings shut the childcare center down?
He loved Greg, and Dale wished he’d gotten the chance to say it to Greg one last time, to tell Greg he’d always be Dale’s alpha.
He stumbled toward the wreckage, tears dripping down his cheeks. Behind him, cars honked, and someone yelled.
The Porsche’s door opened. Dale sucked in air, his heart pounding. Greg?
He checked the road, then staggered forward, rounding the Porsche to the driver’s door. Black shoes met the asphalt. Greg pulled himself out of the car, swaying a little. He met Dale’s eyes, his gaze darting over Dale to see if he was hurt.
Greg’s fine. Dale cried out with relief, stepping forward.
He couldn’t continue to push Greg away, not anymore. Not when Greg had been so close to death, and Dale had been so close to losing his most important person.
Greg Hastings was his alpha. Dale could no longer deny him their bond.
37
Greg
In the seconds after the crash, Greg panted, his hands shaking. The leg compartment had compressed. The airbags had deployed.
He wasn’t dead. He’d expected to die, or at least be in a great deal of pain. He could’ve been crushed by the truck. But he moved his legs now, finding them unharmed. He turned his hands over, then stared down at himself.
He wasn’t hurt. His car was totaled, but he was alive. Dale was alive. Greg had saved him, had saved his omega. It felt like a boulder had rolled off his chest, so he could breathe again.
He exhaled, tipping his head back. The truck’s chrome grill loomed over his windshield.
Unlike the cabin fire five years ago, they’d escaped from this accident unharmed. Tony would’ve said, Look, get up and move on! We don’t have time to waste!
It was a voice that was familiar and strange all at once. Greg had kept it suppressed all these years, because he couldn’t stand the thought of having failed his best friend.
“I’m alive,” he muttered. “I’m still alive. And you’re not.”
I forgive you, Tony whispered in his mind. You did your best. It’s time to move on.
Greg breathed out his guilt from Tony’s death, his thoughts whirling.
There was no future he could rely on, not really. But in avoiding the future, Greg had also forgotten about the present.
All this time, he had been afraid of committing to Dale—and for what reason? He’d been afraid of getting hurt again. Of disappointing his omega. Of failing somehow. Maybe he couldn’t be around forever for Dale, but he could be around now, and that was most important.
He needed to spend time with his omega, so if anything happened to either of them, they could tell their son what their other dad was like. He should have held Dale close, tell him how important he was. He should have stayed, and fought for their relationship, and be the alpha Dale needed.
He shouldn’t have left Dale at all.
Greg swore at himself, feeling like an even bigger idiot. I’ve wasted so much time.
He pushed the door open, stepping out. Dale hurried across the road to him, tears streaking down his face, his arms
