“One other thing,” his father said. Valen paused. “You fought with Harris again?”
Like anything he did with Harris could be considered fighting. Except for that one time, but Dad was talking about Harris’ scent on him. Valen snorted. “Yeah. He taught me a lesson. Whooped my ass.”
“Good.”
Valen shrugged, stepping out of the office. His pulse thudded. Couldn’t think straight, when his dad wanted to barge his way into Valen’s wedding, when Dad thought he could order Valen around. Shit, Valen had almost gotten Harris into trouble.
Took a few seconds for him to register the office outside.
The fire station was made up of different parts—the offices sat right over the garage, where the trucks were housed. Half the guys had a desk here; the fire chief was the only one with private space.
The blinds on the chief’s office were closed. And there was no one else in the office, save for one person.
Harris sat at his desk, his eyes fixed on Valen. Gods, he was a damn sight better than Valen’s dad. Valen stared at the fire department T-shirt hugging Harris’ chest, the bulge of his biceps. Harris wasn’t smiling, though.
“How much did you hear?” Valen muttered. Harris hadn’t been around when Valen came upstairs.
“‘Most everything.” Harris sighed, glancing at his screen. Looked like he was midway through a report. “Go ahead with Sam. Get rings.”
“Three of them, yeah. Need your size.”
“You realize it’d be suspicious if I got one the same time you did.”
“Then you can wear yours first.”
Harris looked askance at him. “Nah.”
Valen glared. “Not leaving you out.”
He tilted his head, showed Harris his bonding mark on his neck. The one Harris had left, not Sam.
Harris sighed, his fingers twitching on his keyboard. Almost as though he wanted to grab Valen.
Sometimes, Valen wondered why he loved Harris, an alpha as old as his own father. He’d fallen in love with Sam first—that was natural. That was what should happen. Then this thing with Harris, when Valen had never loved any other alpha.
But it wasn’t like Harris was Valen’s dad. Harris was different. When Valen had first tried fighting him, Harris had deflected Valen’s strikes. It read like a challenge. Then Harris had slammed him into the wall one day, and Valen had felt the bulge of his thighs, the strength of his chest. And then he’d wanted to know what Harris’s cock tasted like.
Harris had groaned. Valen had felt needed.
Never looked back from there.
Valen crossed the space between them, stopped by Harris’ seat. Glanced around—no one. His father’s office was silent.
“V,” Harris said, frowning.
Valen grabbed Harris by his hair, leaned down, and meshed their lips together. Slid into Harris’ mouth, touched their tongues together. Still electrifying. He filled his lungs with oak.
Then he released Harris, looked around again.
“That’s risky,” Harris muttered.
Valen knew it. But that kiss grounded him, helped him remember the important things. Like Harris. Like Sam. He didn’t need to waste his energy staying pissed with his father.
“I’m going,” Valen said. “Later.”
Harris sighed and shook his head, but the corners of his lips twitched upward.
With the bad came the good—Harris was the brightest point of Valen’s day at the station. He’d probably always be.
Valen headed for the truck he’d left behind, cheering up. Soon, maybe tomorrow, he’d go look at rings with Harris and Sam. Then maybe he’d propose to his lovers, and maybe they might agree.
There were the rings, and then there were their jobs.
“We can’t wear rings to work,” Harris said the next day. “Gonna be in and out of fires. It’s either we keep taking the rings off, or not wear them at all.”
That defeated the purpose of a ring, didn’t it?
“There has to be another way,” Valen said. “Short of marking you and Sam all over, but I’d do that too. Inside Sam, all over him.” Valen wriggled his eyebrows at his omega.
At the island counter, Sam blushed. Harris raised an eyebrow.
“Kidding,” Valen said, nudging Harris. “Of course we want something more permanent.”
“What about silicone rings?” Sam asked, scrolling through his phone. “Silicone withstands high temperatures.”
“You mean, like your spatula?” Valen asked, cracking a smile. He pulled a high stool up to Sam, sitting next to his omega. Pressed his nose to Sam’s shoulder, breathed in dahlia and honey. “I can’t imagine they’d look very good if they’re all bright green or pink.”
“There’s black ones, too. Look.” Sam tilted his phone toward Valen.
The black rings did look like the stone ones Valen had seen around. Couldn’t say he liked the pastel ones as much. “It looks pretty decent,” he said. “What do you think, Big H?”
Harris piped rosettes onto his layer of chocolate cake—careful, precise movements that made Valen suspect he’d do well as a baker. “Sure. We could get two sets, too. One silicone, one gold.”
“That’s all the dollar bills,” Valen said.
Ever since that argument with his dad, he’d been thinking about money again. Couldn’t escape it—they all needed money, some people more than others. As long as Valen kept his job at the station and didn’t get injured, he’d do okay, supporting Sam. Couldn’t depend on Harris’ income, when at some point, Harris would get older and retire.
Would it be okay if Sam and Harris both turned to Valen for support? Harris had savings to tide himself through, but what if? Could Valen earn enough if they needed him? He’d been admitted to the hospital once recently. At some other point, he might end up back in there.
Unease whispered through his stomach.
“It’s not like we can’t afford it,” Harris said, glancing at Sam’s Parmesan wheel.
Yeah, that had been one hell of an impulse purchase. The four hundred dollars were worth it to see Sam smile, but they couldn’t do that every other week, either.
The cheese wheel was sitting in the corner of the kitchen, perched where Sam had left it. Every Saturday, he’d turn it
