“I thought I’d find you here,” Valen said behind him.
Harris’ heart missed a beat. He turned, met Valen’s gaze.
There were shadows under Valen’s eyes, like he hadn’t been sleeping. Which was odd because he had Sam. Why wouldn’t he sleep?
“You’ve been a stupid shit of a bastard,” Valen growled, stalking forward.
Harris pursed his lips. “Is this about the hoses?”
“No. But I’m gonna punch you for that, too,” Valen said. Narrowed his eyes. “Why the fuck do you keep doing that?”
“I’m not in charge of your shift,” Harris said.
But yeah, he’d spoken to Valen’s team leader, and he’d gotten Valen rotated down to hose duty. Sam didn’t need his alpha at higher risk. Maybe Pete had told Valen about the discussion.”
“Quit fucking around with my work, damn you.”
Harris narrowed his eyes. “That’s not for you to decide.”
“I can decide what I want to do with my life.” Valen strode forward. Then he threw a punch, and Harris ducked.
“Always too reckless, V.” Harris planted his hand on Valen’s chest, shoved him backward. Valen stumbled, then found his footing.
Harris strode forward, shoved Valen back. Valen met his eyes. Then he glanced at the open locker, and Harris’ stomach dropped. Valen’s eyes narrowed; he’d seen the ultrasound picture.
“This isn’t your shift,” Harris said.
Valen was dressed in the station’s T-shirt and orange pants. He looked good, as usual. But Valen scowled. “You hurt Sam, damn you.”
He threw another punch, and Harris caught Valen’s fist in his hand, deflected the blow. “You’re not going to hurt me like that.”
Valen roared, his eyes glittering. This time, Harris read his despair, and his fury.
Valen grabbed Harris’ shirt and shoved him against the wall, the tiled one that separated them from the showers. Harris’ breath knocked out of him. Then he shoved at Valen. Didn’t want to hurt him—there was no reason to mess him up.
Then Harris realized he should let Valen hit him, because it had been Harris’ fault, anyway. Hiring Sam, getting them to fuck. Bringing Sam into their relationship. Breaking things off with Sam, when Harris had bonded with him.
“Take this elsewhere,” Harris muttered, shoving Valen off him. Anyone could step into the locker room. Didn’t want Valen to be caught assaulting the second-in-command.
Valen grabbed Harris by the neck. Shoved him toward the shower stalls, ten open doors and no one in them. Harris reached around, grabbed Valen’s arm, and flung him at the back wall. Valen rebounded off the wall, swinging his fist at Harris.
Harris caught him—Valen was sloppy, his moves slow, predictable. Probably had to do with his lack of sleep.
“You want a fight? I’ll give you one,” Harris muttered. Then he caught Valen’s arm and shoved him into the cubicle, kicked the door shut behind them. Slammed Valen into the wall.
Valen surged forward, shoved Harris against the door. Then he threw his fist at Harris, a hard punch in the jaw. Pain exploded through Harris’ face.
“That’s for Sam,” Valen snarled. Punched Harris again.
Harris breathed through the pain, fought the urge to fight back. He did deserve this.
Valen slammed his fist down on Harris’ chest, multiple times, baring his teeth. Dull pain thudded through Harris’ ribs over and over, until he lost track of how many times Valen had hit him.
“Damn it,” Valen gasped.
Harris cracked his eyes open, his pulse thrumming with adrenaline. Wanted to fight back, but Valen didn’t deserve to be hit. Then he saw the streaks of tears down Valen’s cheeks, and froze.
He’d never seen Valen cry before.
What’s wrong? Harris wanted to say. Wanted to pull Valen against himself and hold him. But he’d sent Valen away, and he wasn’t encouraging Valen to return.
“Back up,” Harris muttered. Shoved Valen against the back wall, and turned the shower on. Watched as the water dampened Valen’s hair, streamed down his face. Beads of water caught on his lashes.
Valen hadn’t put his hair up in spikes. Harris blinked. Really looked at Valen. Valen looked weary, his eyes full of glass. Then Harris breathed in, and realized he only smelled sandalwood. No dahlia.
“Where’s Sam?” Harris asked, cold spiking through his stomach.
“Around,” Valen muttered. Then he shoved at Harris, as though he wanted to leave.
“Hold up,” Harris said. Grabbed Valen by the arm and shoved him back under the shower. “I thought Sam was with you.”
Valen gave him a scathing look. “No. He broke up with me.”
“The fuck?”
“He was supposed to visit you this past weekend.”
Bewildered, Harris shook his head. “Didn’t see him.”
Valen growled. “Damn it, Sam.”
He shook Harris’ hand off and shoved his way to the cubicle door, his shirt clinging to his back.
Harris caught his arm again, and Valen paused, the heat of his arm soaking into Harris’ fingers.
For a second, Harris wanted to grab him, press his face to Valen’s shoulder. It had been two weeks since the breakup, and Harris had spent every day regretting it.
V doesn’t want anything to do with me.
“Where are you going?” Harris asked.
“To look for Sam.”
“Weren’t you on duty?”
“I was gonna jump in. Got nothing to do.” Valen still hadn’t shrugged off Harris’ grip. Harris shut off the shower. Stroked his fingers down Valen’s arm.
Valen swallowed.
I missed you, Harris wanted to say. Sam, too. But he wasn’t sure he could have only Valen back, or Sam, and still be happy. Not when his heart had gone two different places.
He released Valen, thought about letting Valen leave. “When’d you last see Sam?”
“Two weeks ago.” Valen’s voice was rough. “We broke up at the A&E.”
Two weeks? And Harris didn’t know? “You broke up?”
“That’s what I said.”
Harris closed his eyes, breathing out. “So he’s been alone this whole time?”
“He’s with family.”
Gods, this hadn’t been what Harris expected when he’d told both of them to leave. “You should’ve been with him.”
Valen whirled around, his eyes flashing. “Don’t you think I know that? Why don’t you get back
