“We’ve never gone jogging,” Felix says.
“We exercised other ways.”
Felix doesn’t have to look at Kade to know the glint in his eyes. He chuckles. “Always about the sex, huh?”
“No. You know that.”
He does. Kade has joked with him, taken him out to art shows, followed him down steep hills for a picture, and he can’t even begin to describe the relationship he’d left behind. So he mixes cyan and pink for a vibrant lilac shade, and dabs it across the canvas, spots of flowers speckled along the front lawns. “How have your parents been the past few years? I... haven’t caught up with them.”
Kade thinks on his words for a while. “My mom’s doing okay. My dad died a couple years back. So Chris and Sam left, the bastards.”
Felix stills, the air whooshing out of his lungs. He’s known Kade’s father since he was ten, and Mr. Brentwood had been family to him. “Your dad died?”
11
Felix
Felix can’t breathe. Kade’s dad is dead. And he hadn’t been there for Kade when he needed someone to lean on.
Only a failure does that. He bites hard on his lip, wondering how else he’s failed his bondmate. Why is Kade staying around when he needs to find an omega better than Felix?
Kade shrugs, looking at the curb. Lines deepen around his mouth. “Yeah. We weren’t doing that well after you left. My dad went back to being a mechanic—and... There was a workplace accident.”
How? Felix wants to ask. He forces the question down, not wanting to put Kade through his grief again.
But he needs to know, too, because he’s spent years with Kade’s family. Kade’s father bringing them all to the swimming pool. Kade’s mother baking cookies for him. Kade’s younger brothers had teased him for being omega, but Kade has always defended Felix. Kade has always been there for him.
Felix wants to cry, suddenly. “Oh.”
Kade flicks a look at him. “Shit,” he mutters, reaching out. “C’mon. Sit down.”
“You... didn’t say anything about it,” Felix says, his voice strangled. Kade scoots to the other chair; Felix trudges over, sinking heavily into his warm seat.
“I thought you didn’t want to know.” But Kade watches him sidelong, and Felix’s heart aches. How had he not found out? He’s spent a month back in Meadowfall, and he had no idea...
He remembers the man—a tall, sturdy alpha with salt-and-pepper hair—who treated Felix as one of his own sons, playing volleyball with them in the yard, mussing Felix’s hair while he grinned. Felix tries to imagine Kade after his father’s death, crumpled, the light gone from his eyes, and he’s gasping, fingers curling into the warm metal of the chair.
“Hey, don’t cry,” Kade says. He pulls Felix into a hug, and Felix trembles against him, his cheeks itchy with tears. “He went quickly. Car crashed into the mechanic shop. He was trapped under it. They said it was an instant death.”
Something inside Felix rips apart, and he’s sobbing into Kade’s shoulder, little whimpers that don’t sound like his own. He shouldn’t even be this upset about it, but he is. Kade’s hand on his back just makes him shake harder. How had he not been here when Kade needed him? How can Felix suck so much as a bondmate? How...?
“I’m fine now,” Kade murmurs in his ear. “We’re doing okay.”
Felix snakes his hand between them, touching his own belly. The bump still isn’t showing yet, and maybe all this is a hallucination. Maybe he’s just imagining the pregnancy. He can’t bear this child and still face Kade, when he’s caused the bankruptcy, caused Kade’s dad to return to work, caused his dad to die.
Felix deserves so much pain, and yet Kade’s here, holding him, whispering into his ear. “Why?” he asks, and his voice rises high and thin, a pathetic whine. “Why—”
“Shh,” Kade says. He strokes over Felix’s back, and his scent is familiar and comforting against Felix’s nose. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not okay,” Felix says, pulling away from him before he loses his resolve. “You shouldn’t do this. I’m not—I’m not...”
I’m not fit to be your bondmate, he wants to say, but Kade kisses him.
It starts off slow and gentle, Kade’s lips soft against his own, and Felix stills. You shouldn’t be doing this, he thinks, but Kade’s mouth caresses his, as though he’s saying You’ll be fine. Felix trembles.
Kade coaxes his lips open, slides in, and Felix needs him, has always needed this man. His fingers tangle in Kade’s shirt, and he leans in, hungry for this intimacy, for the promise of safety and comfort. Kade drags his wrist over Felix’s arms, marking his shoulders and his back, then his nape, his throat. Felix wants to say I’m all yours, except he can’t.
“Why?” he whispers against Kade’s lips, his breath hitching.
“Because—” But Kade doesn’t continue. He threads his fingers through Felix’s hair, brushing his scalp, rubbing the small of his back. His touch eases the misery that’s been building in Felix’s chest, untangling it, drawing it out of him, until Felix sags against his alpha, shaking and weak, his mind whirling.
“Uh, hi. Are you still selling lemonade?”
Felix startles, leaping out of his seat. Kade glances up at the gangling teenage boy standing to a side, a wince on his face. “Sorry,” the boy says, blushing. “I, uh, just wanted to get my sis and I some drinks.”
He waves at a girl in a sundress across the road. Felix looks back down at the lemonade stand, at the scatter of condensation on the lemonade jug, and the upside-down stack of colorful cups they’ve got in front of them. “Sure,” he says. “I’m so sorry. How many cups did you want?”
“Two. Thanks.” The boy hands over a bill and some coins. Kade drops them in the coin bowl, while Felix scoops ice into two cups. “Nice painting. I really like the colors.”
“Thanks!” Felix swears inwardly. They’re supposed to be here earning money for his website, not kissing or dissolving into a mess of tears. He tries to breathe
