“It would’ve been easier if you could drive up to my place,” Harris said. “It’s a gated community, though.”
Sam spoke, but the country song on the radio drowned out his reply. Harris winced, turning it off.
“Sorry. I might be hard of hearing,” Harris said. Was this part of growing old? Probably.
Sam flushed. “No, no, it’s not your fault. I’ll speak up.”
He was still quiet, but Harris heard him now. “No worries. You were saying?”
“I said I understood about the gated community.” Sam’s eyes grew a little wider, like Harris was a whole new beast to him. Looking at the thinness of his limbs, Harris wondered if Sam was starving, if he’d been hard of cash lately.
He’d been there, too. Scrimped and saved for a family, worked two jobs. Lost his omega and his dreams. “You said on the HomeCooks site that you’ve got ten years of kitchen experience.”
“Yeah, I’m a chef at Wy’s Drive-In—that noodle place just by the highway,” Sam said. “I’m working part-time at the college bookstore, too, but they’ve been cutting my hours there lately.”
Two jobs, and he was taking on a third? As Harris drove toward the street, he glanced at Sam Brentwood again.
This time, he saw the worn skin on Sam’s hands, the weariness in his eyes. He looked honest. Hardworking. And Harris couldn’t help a swell of fondness toward him, even though he’d just barely met this guy.
He shouldn’t like Sam Brentwood. He’d lost an omega once. Didn’t want to risk another.
Besides, he already had Valen.
They drove down the streets of Meadowfall, the evening traffic slow around them. Sam stretched; his sweater lifted up above his waistband, exposing a sliver of pale skin. He seemed to have warmed up. Then Sam glanced at Harris, his eyes lingering on Harris’ hands, his thighs. So maybe the attraction was mutual.
“You seem young,” Harris said.
“Twenty-nine.” Sam gave a tired smile. “I’m not that young.”
You’re the exact same age Valen is. “I haven’t seen you around before—you grew up here?”
“Yeah, I’ve lived in Meadowfall all my life.”
Vaguely, Harris realized he didn’t know much about Valen’s history before their relationship. Didn’t know who Valen had dated, or what he’d been doing with his life.
As he pulled into the community, the white-painted gates rolling shut behind them, Harris said, “Do you happen to know a Valen? Valen Tolstoy. He’s my—roommate. I think he’s your age, too.”
Sam froze with his mouth open, blood draining from his face. He wheezed, then touched his belly.
Harris hit the brakes. Shit. “I’m sorry—I had no idea you knew him. If you want, you can leave now. I’ll send you home.”
“But you’ve paid for the classes,” Sam yelped, his gaze darting around them, as though he expected Valen to appear suddenly. They were in the middle of the road, maybe a block away from the mansion. The shadows of the trees stretched across the street, and above them, the sky was darkening.
“You don’t owe me an explanation—I should have disclosed his identity to you,” Harris said, a slow discomfort building in his stomach. What happened between you and Sam, Valen? He looks so damn scared.
And what were the chances of bringing his lover and his possibly-ex together like that?
“I—I can do this,” Sam said, breathing in. He clenched his fists against his knees, looking at the dashboard. “You’ve paid for five lessons. I’ll hold up my end of the contract.”
“Not if it’s gonna make you react like that,” Harris said. “That’s not right.”
Sam shook his head. “I need a job. This is fine.”
“Look, you can just keep the money,” Harris said. “If you need a referral, I can do that, too. I’m sorry.”
Sam chuckled, a thin, high laugh. “It really is fine. It’s just... it was a surprise. I’m sure Valen doesn’t remember me.”
His eyes were a little too wide, , though, his body tense, as though he wanted to flee. And Harris had caused this, all because he hadn’t wanted his name connected with Valen’s. Shouldn’t have done that. I fucked up.
“One lesson,” Harris said. “If you want to leave at any point, you’re free to do so.”
Sam’s throat worked. “I—I guess that’s fine.”
He squirmed in his seat, peering through the windshield as though expecting to see Valen walking toward them.
“He’s in the house,” Harris said. “Probably in the kitchen.”
Sam nodded stiffly. “O—okay.”
Harris wanted to reach over, squeeze his hand or something. Sam looked like he needed some comfort, like he could do with a hug.
So Harris held his hand out, like he did with all the scared civilians he faced on the job. “I can hold you, if you’d like.”
Sam’s eyes flickered between Harris’ face, and his hand. Carefully, he set his hand in Harris’, his skin damp with sweat. All it had taken was one name, and Sam had lost his composure.
Guilty, Harris squeezed his hand. Drove slowly up to the mansion. Sam squeezed back.
“Tell me if you need me to stop,” Harris said.
Sam chuckled. “That almost sounds like sex.”
Harris cracked a smile. “The same extends to sex, if you were wondering.”
Sam stared at him, mouth open, tongue darting across his lip. “You can’t be serious.”
Maybe he was, maybe he wasn’t. Harris needed to see Sam and Valen together, figure out what the hell happened between them. If it was a major fuck-up, he’d let it slide.
But if it wasn’t, if their past was something that could be fixed... Maybe Sam was who Valen really needed.
And as much as that thought made him hesitate, Harris wasn’t about to put his own needs first. He wouldn’t be selfish again.
He stepped on the gas pedal, urging the car forward.
3
Valen
Valen scowled at his buzzing phone. “Stop it, Dad,” he said. “I’ll mess with my life myself.”
He dropped the phone on Harris’ leather couch, flopping down with a sigh. Stared at the wide wooden louvers hiding the driveway from sight, the sleek floor lamps next to the potted plants and TV.
Harris had been gone a
