So when Felix asks, “What do you think of a daughter in the future?” Kade shakes his head. He doesn’t have a bursting bank account. As Felix’s alpha, he’s costing Felix his relationship with his father. Sometimes, he wonders if Felix regrets that they’re bonded, but he doesn’t dare ask.
“I don’t think we should have kids,” Kade says, guilt twinging in him when Felix’s expression falls.
“You don’t?” Felix looks at his feet, and Kade tugs on his hand, leading them to the nearby park.
“We shouldn’t.” Kade swallows, looking away. Kids would complicate their relationship. If they have children and Felix decides he wants a richer alpha, well. Why would he want that reminder of Kade? “I don’t think we’re suited for kids.”
“Oh.” Felix looks down, his fingers going limp in Kade’s hand.
Kade doesn’t know how to solve this, but his gut tells him that was the right response. Even if all the light has gone from Felix’s eyes.
25
Felix Present Day
Felix wakes the next Saturday when his mattress indents next to his chest, like a weight settling beside him.
He’s stirring, drifting in and out of sleep, snuggled under a thin sheet when gentle fingers touch his forehead. The fingers slide to his temple, warm and comforting, and they... shouldn’t be there. He sleeps alone. No one is supposed to enter his house and sit on his bed.
Kade?
He springs up in bed with a gasp, eyes flying open, and Taylor stares a foot away, his hand retracted. “Felix?”
“Oh, gods,” Felix wheezes, clutching his abdomen. “I thought—I thought you were Kade and I haven’t taken my pills yet and I still smell like pregnant person and I thought I was going to die—”
“Hush,” Taylor says, climbing further onto the bed. He pulls Felix into his arms, stroking his hair, but it doesn’t quiet the thundering of Felix’s heart. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You could have rung the doorbell,” Felix groans, dropping his forehead onto Taylor’s shoulder. He sucks in deep breaths of jasmine, trying to move his hands, and only realizes then that he’s shaking. “I’m so fucking terrified of him sometimes, Taylor.”
His brother stiffens against him. “You haven’t told him yet?”
Felix shakes his head, looking at the translucent curtains, the stacks of sketchbooks on his tiny desk. “What do you think?”
“Oh my god. You’re already five months along, Felix. And Kade still doesn’t know?” Taylor slaps his forehead. “Are you serious?”
“Why don’t you get a surprise pregnancy from an ex,” Felix mutters, worrying the bed sheets with his fingertips. The child squirms in his belly again, an ever-present reminder. “Then tell me about it.”
Taylor sighs, hugging him tight. “You can’t hide this forever.”
“I can hide it until I leave,” Felix says. He wants to gather his stuffed toys close and pull the worn blanket over his head. They stare accusingly at him from the windowsill. “Then I’ll stop with the pills.”
“I think I should confiscate all your scent suppressants, Felix Henry.” Taylor holds him up by the shoulders, looking hard into his eyes. “Kade loves you. I’m sure he—”
“What,” Felix says. “You haven’t even met him since you got back.”
Taylor sighs, blowing his hair out of his eyes. “And I’m also the one who got fifty voicemails from him when you fled. Fifty, Felix.”
Felix winces. Had Kade left offended barbs that Taylor could show him? “Really?”
“Well, more like eighteen, spread over seven months or so.” Taylor frowns. “He cares about you. You know that, right? I mean, you’ve been together forever.”
“Not forever,” Felix mutters, pulling his sheets around himself.
“Pretty damn close,” Taylor says. He nudges Felix with his shoulder. “Or do you need me to tell him on your behalf?”
Taylor, telling Kade about the pregnancy when Felix can’t even show his face? What kind of irresponsible omega does that to his bondmate? “That’s worse!”
“Look, at least give him a chance to respond,” Taylor says. “Then if he says he doesn’t want the child, you’ll pack your bags and leave.”
Felix pulls the sheets over his head. It’ll kill him, hearing Kade say he doesn’t want the child. It’ll feel like a rejection, and he deserves it for all he’s done to Kade, but... “I can’t. His dad’s dead because of me.”
Taylor winces. “The bankruptcy wasn’t your fault. It was Father’s—”
“Father asked me to draw those impressions,” Felix wails, clinging to his sheets. “If people didn’t fall in love with those houses... the bankruptcy would never have happened. And Kade’s dad wouldn’t have died.”
“Drawing those impressions doesn’t mean you caused the bankruptcy, Felix.”
But Felix had drawn them, made them bright and colorful and classy, and prospective buyers had perked up when it slipped into newspapers and websites and every other advertising channel. If he’d never drawn those impressions, his father wouldn’t have gotten the idea to clear out all his tenants.
Felix cringes. “Why don’t you try having a death on your hands—” Taylor raises an eyebrow, and Felix sighs. “Well, a death of someone you love, at least.”
His brother looks away then, his lips thinning. Felix tenses. “You haven’t been in that situation, have you?”
“Once,” Taylor says, his gaze fixed on the orange tree outside the window. “Years back.”
“Oh my god.” Felix glances at Taylor’s wrists, then his neck—no bonding marks. What kind of relationship had it been? “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I was on an extended mission. Remember the time I left for two years?” Taylor meets his gaze, a deep ache in his eyes. Felix’s ribs tighten. “I was mostly over it by the time I got back. I didn’t want to talk about it.”
“Oh, Taylor,” Felix whispers, hugging his brother tight. “I didn’t know.”
They sit in silence for a while, listening to the birds chirping outside the window, the rumble of cars, the neighbors yelling for their children.
“You smell good,” Taylor says suddenly. He leans in, sniffing at Felix. “I missed you. And I’ve definitely missed smelling you.”
Felix cringes. “There’s plenty other things for you to smell.”
But Taylor sighs. “You
