So no, he wasn’t bonding with another omega again. Wasn’t going to have a baby, wasn’t going to live through nine months not knowing if his omega would survive.
They were silent for a while, Harris breathing into Valen’s prickly hair. Valen smelled like drying sweat, like sandalwood.
“So I’d appreciate it if you don’t go walking into those damn buildings without my go-ahead,” Harris muttered.
“Better me than you,” Valen said.
“Non-negotiable, V.”
Valen huffed, pulling away. His warmth lingered on Harris’ chest. Harris watched as Valen stalked through the kitchen, pulling open the cabinets for some wine—chardonnay, Harris’ favorite.
“Did Sam have a baby?” Harris asked.
Valen almost dropped the bottle. “Fuck—What the hell, Harris?”
From the way Valen scowled, bewildered, Harris didn’t think he knew. “Just seems like he’s had a child once,” he said. “Or maybe he wants one.”
“How’d you know?” Valen’s gaze sharpened.
“He touches his belly. Did it a couple times in the car; just something I noticed. It seems to me he’s been pregnant before.”
Valen set the wine bottle down carefully, staring at Harris. And Harris watched as the emotions flitted through his eyes—disbelief, then denial, then jealousy.
“He had someone’s kid? He said he didn’t have an alpha.”
“He could be a single dad.”
Valen growled, a low rumble. Then he looked away, hiding his eyes.
Valen was hurting. It was enough for Harris to understand one thing—that despite their relationship, despite the time they’d spent together, Valen still cared for his omega.
And maybe Valen was better off with Sam, than some old bastard like Harris.
Sure, it hurt. But Harris treasured this kid, didn’t want to make the same mistake he had with Nicholas. He’d pushed Nicholas to have the baby, and Nic had died because of Harris’ choices.
So no, Harris wasn’t going to be selfish again. He wasn’t going to see Valen kill himself. Valen needed someone to matter to him.
And if that someone was Sam, if Valen would care more for an omega, then Harris would step out of this relationship, no questions asked.
6
Sam
“He’s picking you up today?” Wyatt asked, raising his eyebrows at Sam. “From here?”
Sam’s face flushed with heat. “I guess he is. He said it’s more convenient with no speed bumps. That Porsche drives really close to the ground.”
Wyatt snorted, stirring the pot of broth. “I didn’t think I’d be right when I said you might meet a rich old alpha.”
Sam sighed. “I’m not hooking up with him.”
He’d told Harris to meet him at Wy’s Drive-In. The alternative would’ve been Harris driving up to Sam’s run-down apartment, and seeing the pathetic place he lived in. Harris was too rich for that.
“I got an eviction notice today,” Sam said. “They want to tear down the entire place, clean it up real nice. Probably rent it out at three times the price when it’s done.”
Wyatt winced. “Anywhere you can go in the meantime? Raph and I can spare a couch.”
“I could go stay with my mom, I guess.” Sam sagged, mincing a handful of garlic cloves. “I mean, she’s living with my brother and his family, so maybe there might be space for me...”
“Except?” Wyatt looked pointedly at him. “You can’t explain the alpha scents on you?”
Sam’s entire face scorched. “Exactly that.”
Last week, when he’d returned to work, Wyatt had smelled Harris and Valen on Sam—more of Valen, because Valen had marked Sam on purpose. But Wyatt had stared, and Sam had admitted; yes, he’d slept with them both. At the same time.
His body tingled at the thought of it, aching a little.
In a few minutes, Harris would be here. He’d pick Sam up, and Sam would be alone with Valen and his lover again.
They would start the cooking lessons for real tonight. When that was over... Sam shoved the thoughts from his head, trying not to squirm. They weren’t having sex again.
Except they probably would, wouldn’t they? Last week had been good. And maybe they’d fuck again next week, and the week after, and Sam couldn’t possibly live with his mom, smelling like two different alphas. She’d probably frown and kick him out.
“Look, if everything else fails, you could try asking Penny, too,” Wyatt said, ladling some broth into a bowl. Steam billowed from its surface. “She might know someone who needs a roommate. Or I could ask my parents.”
“Thanks.” Sam sighed. Nice of Wyatt to offer up all his family’s homes.
All week, Sam had felt odd, uncomfortable, like maybe he was falling sick. Lights were too bright, the scents in the kitchen were too sharp. The thought of having to move set his skin itching.
“Raph and I are getting a new bed for Ben,” Wyatt said. “He isn’t going to grow into it for a while, so you could borrow that, too.”
Wyatt smoothed his hand over his baby bump—he was five months along. Sam stared at the swell of Wyatt’s belly, his chest heavy with yearning.
He wasn’t having a baby again. But he remembered the anticipation of having one, the idea that maybe he wouldn’t be alone, even if he’d left his alpha. Once upon a time, he had imagined living alone with his baby, his precious child filling the hole that Valen had left in his heart.
Sam shoved those memories out of his mind.
In another four months, Wyatt would give birth, and then he’d marry his bondmate.
Compared to Wyatt bonding with his stepbrother, Sam sleeping with two alphas wasn’t quite so bad. At least, that was what he told himself. He probably seemed promiscuous to everyone else.
The front doors of the diner flew open. Over the noodle bar, Sam watched as Wyatt’s thirteen-year-old daughter skated in, her hair mussed, her eyes bright. She wore the staff’s standard egg-yellow apron. “Uncle Sam,” she called. “Someone’s here for you!”
His stomach flipped.
“It’s just a cooking lesson,” Sam muttered, scooping some diced onions into a bowl.
