“Soon, yeah,” Harris said. “I’ll wait here for a while. Can I borrow a sink?”
Wyatt waved toward the kitchen. “There.”
“Valen needs some rope,” Sam said. “There were two robbers this time.”
Wyatt grimaced and looked over Sam. “I’ll get rope. Were you hurt?”
Sam shook his head. “I would’ve been. Valen and Harris showed up.”
“Oh, good. I’ve called the police—they’ll be here in a bit.” Wyatt hurried out the back door with a handful of rope, his forehead creased. Raph followed behind him.
Sam watched as Harris rinsed his cuts under the faucet, pink water flowing into the drain. Didn’t know what to say, after they’d been apart two weeks. Everything had happened so quickly tonight.
“It was Valen who suggested coming here,” Harris said. He splashed water on his face; blood pattered into the sink. “I’d just gotten off work.”
Valen did? And Harris had to be tired—he’d just finished a whole 24-hour shift. Instead of going home, he’d come here. Sam held his breath. “Oh.”
Harris ran his hand down his face. “He came in and beat me up. Said it was for you. And I agree—I’ve been a bastard.”
Sam looked at the bruises on Harris’ face, red and angry. How much pain had Harris been through? Sam hurt for him. “He beat you up?”
“Yeah. Then he kissed me.” Harris gave a lopsided grin. “He’s a strange one, that kid.”
“I’m not strange,” Valen said.
Sam turned as Valen stepped over, his heart missing a beat. Valen paused by Sam’s side, hesitantly touching the small of Sam’s back. His gaze dropped to Sam’s mouth.
“You kissed Harris,” Valen said, his eyes half-hopeful, half-envious. “Can I...”
Sam’s heart tripped. After all that had happened, after Sam had sent him away... Valen still wanted him. “Yeah. Of course.”
Valen leaned in, and Sam met him halfway. He opened for Valen, touched their tongues, breathing Valen in again. Could never tire of Valen, or Harris. Valen pulled him closer, dragged his teeth over Sam’s lower lip, sucked it into his mouth. Then he tasted Sam again, his tongue soft and damp, and Sam shivered, needing him closer.
“When you’re done,” Wyatt said. “The cops are here.”
Sam pulled away from Valen, turning to find Wyatt smiling by the doorway. Through the diner’s front windows, red and blue lights flashed.
“You okay, Big H?” Valen asked.
Harris sucked in a breath, meeting Valen’s eyes. He looked hopeful, uncertain, and Sam’s heart ached for him. “You calling me Big H now?”
“Yeah,” Valen said, his gaze warm. “At some point, we’ll have a Little H too, no?”
Valen glanced at Sam, then back at Harris. And Harris surged forward, caught Valen’s nape, and pressed a hard kiss to his lips. Sam’s heart leaped—Valen and Harris had made up. Valen groaned.
“Yeah,” Harris murmured. “If Sam is willing.”
Valen huffed. A fluttering warmth rose through Sam’s chest. “Yeah,” Sam said, leaning into both his alphas. “Sam’s willing.”
Harris grinned and kissed Sam too, hot and fierce. Slid into his mouth, tangling their tongues. Harris tasted faintly like blood, but that was okay. He was fine, and so was Valen.
When they broke apart, Valen slipped his arms around Sam’s waist, and Harris’, too. “Let’s get this police thing over with. I want Big H at the hospital, all stitched up. And then we can finally go home.”
Home had never sounded so good.
36
Harris
It was later, after the police statements and the stitches at the hospital, when they were all back at the mansion, that Harris said, “We probably need to talk.”
“We probably do,” Valen said.
They were sitting in the empty bathtub, Harris with clear breathable tape over his stitches, Valen shampooing Sam’s hair.
Still took a while for Harris to believe this. Sam and Valen, sitting in the tub with him. They were all okay. Harris had lost count of how many stitches he had in total, but that was fine. Didn’t matter how injured he was—he had his alpha and omega. Sam was safe, Landon too.
His scent glands prickled. They were unmarked, and Harris was hoping... well. That maybe one of them would think he was worthy of a marking.
Kind of pathetic, thinking that. He was already fifty.
“I missed you so much,” Valen said again. He pressed kisses down Sam’s shoulders, sliding his palms over Sam’s belly. “I was jerking off in my truck thinking about you, and I couldn’t stop.”
Sam blushed. Harris snorted. “Get your come everywhere?”
“For the record, I jerked off to you too, Big H.” Valen grinned. “It got on the steering wheel and the dashboard, but at least no one saw.”
Was still a treat, having Valen call him Big H. Way back, Harris had frowned at the nickname. Hadn’t thought he’d be so glad to hear it now.
Sam shook his head, but his cheeks were pink, and he was smiling.
“I missed you, too,” Sam said, looking down at his belly. It was so big now, at almost eight months. Harris reached over, smoothed his palm down Sam’s abdomen. Landon kicked, acknowledging him. Harris’ throat grew tight.
“I missed you both,” Harris said.
“You better have.” Valen gave him a halfhearted glare. Then he reached over Sam’s belly, and twined his fingers with Harris’. “Those were probably the worst two weeks in the history of ever.”
“They really were.” Sam cracked a smile.
Harris shuffled closer, fitting his leg on the outside of Sam’s thigh. Beneath the scent of shampoo and soap, he smelled dahlia and sandalwood, and honey. Never thought he’d smell them again. The mansion had been gradually losing their scents, and Harris had despaired.
“So... Landon,” Harris said, pausing. Didn’t know if he was forgiven enough.
Sam met his eyes, his gaze hopeful. “I’d love for you to be his Papa,” Sam said. “And he needs a Daddy, too.”
Harris’ pulse skipped.
Behind Sam, Valen made a soft, strangled noise. Sam turned, and Valen slipped his arms around Sam, burying his face in Sam’s shoulder.
“I’m sorry about before,”
