He grabbed his pants, fumbled in its pockets, and slid the phone out.
Dad, the caller ID read. Greg breathed in, glancing at the door. It was locked; they were safe here. He hit the Answer button.
“Dad?” he asked, watching as Dale tensed. Greg crawled back, rubbing Dale’s back. We’ll be fine, he mouthed. But Dale remained frowning.
“I saw the news,” Bernard said across the line, his tone severe.
Greg swallowed, his stomach flipping. “I’m sorry about the car. It was a pity.”
“Your picture is on the front page of the county news, and the first thing you mention is the car?”
“I saved my omega with it. I think that’s all you need to know.”
Dale winced.
“I didn’t bring you up to throw your status and abilities away, Gregory,” Bernard said, disapproval thick in his tone. “Dale Kinney is an embarrassment—”
“I was saving my baby, too,” Greg said, glad that his phone wasn’t on loudspeaker. Some things, Dale didn’t need to hear. “Your grandson.”
“My...” Bernard paused.
Greg let the information sink in. “We’re calling him Phil,” he said, then winced. He’d made that up on the spot. Dale raised his eyebrows. “Phil Hastings.”
It occurred to him that his dad had forgotten the importance of family.
Gone were the days when Bernard Hastings brought Greg to the park to play ball. Gone were the days when Bernard clapped Greg on the back, telling him jokes. That had been close to a decade ago, and Greg hadn’t realized his dad had been so absent from his life, until now. Greg had gotten too distracted with Tony, and then with Tony’s death, to notice.
“You don’t have a say over my family, dad,” Greg said. “This is my choice. And I’ve chosen Dale.”
“You almost died in that crash,” his father said.
“Yes. Because Dale is worth saving to me.”
Dale was staring at him now, his mouth hanging open. Greg shrugged. It was the truth.
“I’m still not paying your tuition,” Bernard said.
“That’s fine. I’ll take a loan out.” He had savings, had monetary gifts from his parents over the years. There was maybe twenty grand in his bank account that he’d refused to touch on principle, but he could fall back on that if necessary. “I’ll finish my course in Meadowfall College. If you have a problem with that, we’ll move out of town.”
“You’re allowed to continue your studies,” Bernard said. “At least succeed in that.”
Greg heaved a sigh.
When his dad said nothing else, Greg said, “I’ll have to go now. Take care. Say hi to Mom for me.”
He ended the call, setting his phone on the side table.
“I’m worth saving?” Dale blurted, his eyes wide, his voice strangled.
Greg settled back into bed with him, pulling him close. “Yes.”
“Oh.”
“Why do you think I hit the gas back there?” Greg said, sliding his hand down to Dale’s belly, holding their baby. “You’re important to me, Dale. You’re my bondmate.”
Dale blinked rapidly, glancing down at his wrists, where Greg had marked him. Greg showed Dale his own wrists, where Dale had bitten him, and Dale’s mouth quirked in a tiny, disbelieving smile. “I... I guess I am. That was a little impulsive.”
“It needed to be done,” Greg murmured, kissing his nose. “I wasn’t gonna wait any longer.”
Dale laughed softly. “Sometimes, I can’t decide if you’re patient or impatient.”
“Maybe both,” Greg said, slipping his arms around Dale. The phone conversation with his dad had gone better than he’d expected. He didn’t know if it would last, but they were out of Bernard’s influence in Cambria.
And maybe, if things went right, maybe Bernard would see the futility in trying to break them up. Maybe, with this accident, Greg had won a second chance for them both.
And maybe, unlike the last time, things will turn out all right.
39
Dale
Two months later
Dale woke to an empty mattress. For a second, his stomach clenched. Greg?
It took him another second to remember that Greg had moved back into his apartment two months ago, that Greg was probably in the bathroom, or the kitchen. The sheets were still warm, aspen-scented, and Dale relaxed. “Your dad’s still here,” he murmured, cradling his belly. “He’s just busy right now.”
The baby kicked against his hand. Dale smiled, nestling into Greg’s side of the bed, Greg’s scent surrounding him. It was a habit left over from the months they’d been separated, when Dale would huddle on the other side of the mattress, wishing for Greg to return.
These days, burrowing into Greg’s spot earned Dale a smile, and Greg climbing into bed behind him, snuggling up close.
Dale slipped his hand under Greg’s pillow, frowning when paper crinkled against his fingers. He pulled the sheet out, holding it to his nose to read it.
In Greg’s handwriting: When you’re ready to wake up, head to the kitchen.
Dale frowned, looking at the blurred doorjamb. The hallway beyond was dim, and there were vague shapes hovering in the air. He rolled himself upright, grabbed his glasses, and slipped them on.
“Oh. Wow.”
Paper cranes hung from the ceiling. But these weren’t the ones that Dale had strung up. The closest crane hung close to eye-level from his spot on the bed, the next crane a little higher, a little further away. Words had been scrawled across their wings.
His heart skipping, Dale climbed out of bed, pulling on Greg’s T-shirt for warmth. On the first crane, Greg had written, In the mornings, your eyes are green like a pine forest.
Dale smiled, releasing the jade-green crane. It twirled in midair. The second crane was sky-blue, with the words Your nose is damn cute.
He laughed then. “My nose, cute?”
The third crane was violet, hanging at chest-level. Actually, so is your mouth.
“Greg Hastings,” Dale said, a smile tugging on his lips. Past the doorway, there were more cranes hanging from the ceiling, and Dale had no idea when Greg had done all of this. Or how long it had taken to put this together. Or what on earth he was trying to do. Or maybe Dale did
