Sam laughed, his throat tight. “I’m going back to work after this—but I guess you could.”
“You’ll have to tell me all about how you and Valen are doing,” Mom said, rubbing his back. Her eyes crinkled, and she was smiling so wide he could see all her teeth. “Are you still working at the college bookstore? I haven’t seen you there.”
He tried not to choke on his tears. “No, I’m working as a chef at Wy’s Drive-In. It’s just off the highway, by Chapman and Perkins. Wy owns the place.”
“I hope he’s been treating you well!”
“He really has.” Sam leaned into her, breathing in. Thought about asking if he could shelter here while he looked for a place to stay—the eviction notice had been nagging at his thoughts all day.
But then he looked at the mess of clothes around the room, smelled the mix of lily, lavender and pine. There probably wasn’t space for him, not with Kade and Felix building their family here.
Besides, he’d probably smell like two alphas every other week. Not a great influence for Bethy, Sam was sure.
“Come on, let’s get you fed. It’s your lunch break, isn’t it?” Mom grinned, taking Sam’s hand. She led him out of the room. “I have some bread and leftover pickle soup.”
Sam’s mouth watered. “That sounds really good.”
They headed down the stairs, Mom bustling into the kitchen. Kade and Felix waved from the living room.
“Fire truck!” Bethy cried, pointing out the window.
Sam’s stomach flipped. “Is something wrong out there?”
Felix peered outside. “Doesn’t seem to be.”
Sam trailed into the kitchen after his mom, wondering if Valen or Harris was in that truck. Maybe both. Maybe he could catch a glimpse of them.
Or maybe he shouldn’t be out there, distracting them or anything.
The microwave didn’t start. Mom frowned. “I can’t get it to work—looks like the power’s off.”
She fired up the gas stove instead, heating the pickle soup on the burner. Sam waited, his stomach growling. A while later, Mom dished the steaming soup into a bowl, setting it on the table in front of him.
“Tell me when you next visit,” she said. “I’ll make some minestrone soup just the way you like it.”
“You’re the best, Mom,” Sam said, blinking hard so he wouldn’t cry over his pickle soup. It had been a while since anyone had made food for him.
Mom sliced some fresh bread from a loaf. “I’ll pack some of this in a box—you can take that with you, too.”
“You don’t have to,” he said.
“Yes, I do. You’re feeding two mouths now.” Her eyes lit up, and Sam couldn’t help touching his belly again. You’re loved, he thought to his baby. There’s nothing you need to be afraid of out here. I’ll protect you.
The pickle soup was warm and tangy in his mouth, flavored with dill and pickle juice. It was just the right amount of savory and spice, too, and Sam closed his eyes, enjoying the warmth of it on his tongue.
“You could teach Valen to make this, since you like it so much,” Mom said. “I have the recipe right here.”
She tore off a piece of notepaper.
“But you need it—”
“I have it memorized.” She tapped on her temple and smiled. “Valen will have more use for it.”
Sam flushed, wishing he could tell her he’d met Valen for the second time yesterday. It wasn’t as though they were living together, or dating, or anything like that.
“Thanks,” he said anyway, tucking the recipe into his pocket.
He kept himself from looking out the window for twenty minutes. Then he got antsy, edging into the living room when he was done with lunch. No firemen in sight.
Mom followed him to the front door, glancing at the fire truck at the end of the street.
“I should be leaving,” Sam said. “But I promise I’ll visit again when I can—”
“Looks like there’s a fireman making the rounds,” Mom said, nodding to the side.
Sam’s heart lodged in his throat. “Where?”
Then a fireman in orange stepped around the house, and Sam’s heart skipped.
It was Harris.
Harris was tall, his shoulders broad. Sunlight gleamed off his salt-and-pepper hair. His uniform hid the muscle of his biceps, but Sam couldn’t help staring at the surety of his stride, the bulge of tools in his pockets.
A week ago, Harris had kissed Sam ever so softly on the lips. Then Sam had taken Harris’ cock in his mouth, the weight of it sliding across his tongue.
Not what he should be thinking about, standing next to his mom.
Those gray-blue eyes flickered between Sam and his mom. Harris strode up to the porch, nodding at them both. Harris was distinguished, in a way Valen wasn’t. Valen was rugged and impish, and that was good, too.
Then Harris met Sam’s eyes, and Sam stopped breathing. Do I pretend that I don’t know you?
“Good afternoon,” Harris said. “Ma’am, and Mr. Brentwood. I’m Harrison Fields from the fire department.”
I guess that answers the question, Sam thought.
“You know Sam?” Mom asked.
“I do,” Harris said. “This is a public safety call, though. There’s a downed power line along this street—stay away from the line in your backyard. My team and I are handling it until the electric company gets here.”
Further back in the living room, Kade and Felix were looking over—they’d heard the news, too.
“It’s actually my mom’s house,” Sam said. “I’m just visiting.”
Harris nodded. Looked at Sam again, as though he was considering saying more.
“Is Valen there?” Sam blurted.
Harris’ lips thinned. “Yeah. He’s on my team. We’ve got a few guys on the case.”
Harris didn’t look especially cheerful. Sam’s stomach dropped. Harris would look more positive if it was a safer job, wouldn’t he?
“Is it dangerous?” Sam asked.
“We have the training and equipment to handle it,” Harris said. Glanced at Sam’s mom again. “It’s fairly dangerous.”
Tiny alarm bells went off in Sam’s mind. Sam darted out the door, his instincts telling him to look for Valen.
Harris’ arm
