“He’s good for you.”
Valen rolled his eyes. “You keep saying that. Have you seen the way Sam stares at you? Like he’s starving?”
“You need him,” Harris said. “And you’re happy with him.”
“He needs you. Don’t be an idiot.”
Harris snorted. “One of these days, I’m gonna die before you—”
“Shut up,” Valen said, turning to glare. “Don’t even talk about it.”
“I am gonna die before you,” Harris said. “And you’ll still have Sam left. You’ll have each other. That’s what I want.”
“You’re not gonna fucking die on me,” Valen snarled, stalking across the room. “Shut up about that.”
Like shutting up ever changed anything. Harris had shut up when Nicholas asked him to stop talking about the tiny risks—and look what had happened.
“I don’t want that bond with Sam,” Harris continued. “I’m not going to break him when I die, too.”
“Fuck you,” Valen said, anger flashing though his eyes. “I told you not to say it.”
“Fact of life, V. None of us can change that.”
“I could die, too,” Valen growled. “I could die in the next ten minutes. Maybe tomorrow. What’re you gonna do, then?”
Harris closed his mouth. Didn’t want to think about that. So maybe Valen had a point, except the possibilities were stacked against Harris. Harris could keep Valen out of danger, keep him alive. He was getting old, himself. Wasn’t that bad, living until forty-nine.
Valen narrowed his eyes. “Wouldn’t hurt you if I was gone, would it?”
He was so damn obstinate, that kid. Harris shrugged. “You don’t need my concern. You’ve got Sam.”
Valen paused then, staring at Harris, his mouth open. He closed it. Opened it again, like he was about to say something, but didn’t know how.
But his eyes—the look in them was raw, hurt. And maybe this was the part where Harris broke things off with Valen, now that Valen had acknowledged Sam as his omega. Valen didn’t need Harris anymore.
“I thought—I thought there was more between us,” Valen said, his voice tight. “You wanted Sam’s baby because it’s mine.”
“I just wanted a baby,” Harris said. Tried to act like it didn’t matter to him.
And it worked, from the way horror flickered through Valen’s face.
“Damn you,” Valen said. He took a step toward Harris, then paused. Then he closed the distance between them, grabbing Harris by the back of his head. Hauled Harris toward himself, so their lips crashed together.
Valen kissed him, hot, desperate, and Harris wanted to give in. Wanted to taste Valen, show Valen he was Harris’. Shove Valen down, mark him with oak, slide inside his body.
Instead, Harris pushed him off. Turned away.
“I’m gonna keep you out of danger,” Harris said. Shrugged into his work T-shirt, with the Meadowfall Fire Department logo stamped across his back. “See you at the station.”
Then he walked out, Valen’s glare burning into his skull.
It was the first step to a better future for Valen. One that included Sam, but not Harris.
Felt like he was leaving something precious behind.
They stopped talking for a week. On the seventh day, there was a fire, one-alarm, on the outskirts of Meadowfall.
It was an apartment building, a blaze that began with a gas leak explosion. Some casualties confirmed, all fire department personnel deployed on-scene.
When Harris arrived, the fire was spreading through the building. It was past midnight, and civilians were crowded on the sidewalk in their sleeping clothes, children hanging on to their parents. Babies cried.
Harris directed his crew into the building to check for trapped residents.
The floor plan was a maze. The building was old. It was risky for his crew.
When the first apartments were cleared, Harris had his men start dousing the flames.
Went to check on the engine guys—two men, like he’d instructed. Except neither of them was Valen.
A chill shot down his spine.
Harris barked at the nearest guy, Ken. “You’re not on engine duty.”
Ken winced. “Valen swapped with me. Is that a problem, sir?”
It shouldn’t have been. Harris had been playing favorites for the past ten months—not like there was much he could do about it now.
“Not a problem,” Harris said. Checked with the team via his handheld radio, held his tongue when Valen’s voice crackled over the speakers.
Wasn’t like Valen was a novice at this. He knew what he was doing. But there were things none of them could prevent, like support beams that had been eaten through by flames, stairs that could no longer support a fireman’s weight. Smoke inhalation, collapsing floors.
Harris watched as they cleared one row of apartments after another, Valen and the rest carrying civilians out on their shoulders.
Valen went back inside. Harris waited.
And waited.
And now the nagging dread at the back of his mind bloomed into tendrils of What if?
“Valen,” Harris called over the radio. “Valen, over.”
No answer, just some coughing. More coughing. And then there was no response, and Harris’ blood turned cold.
When Amos strode out with a civilian, Harris grabbed his shoulder. “Backup for Valen,” he said. “He’s been in there five minutes.”
Amos frowned. Nodded, heading into the apartment Valen had disappeared into. Smoke obscured him soon after.
Harris fought down the urge to stride in there himself—he needed to oversee the rest of his team. Needed to make sure no one else got hurt. Damn duties!
Valen had to be fine. He had to be.
Except with each second that passed, the unease grew. No firemen striding out the door. The windows were bright orange, lit from inside, glass shattering from the heat. The air in that building scorched, full of chemicals from burnt furniture.
The last thing Harris had said to Valen was, Where’s your report from yesterday? Valen had dropped the sheath of papers on Harris’ desk and left.
A dark shape pushed through the doorway. Harris held his breath. Watched as Amos hauled Valen out, along with a child. Valen was motionless.
Harris held his breath. Locked his emotions away. “EMTs to Truck 1,” he said into the radio. “Man down.”
The EMTs hurried over, their lips thinning when they saw one of their
