So Brad picked out a moisturizing soap, a brand his mom had liked when she’d been around. Brad picked a different scent, though—lavender, so hopefully Ian would find it comforting.
“Right, anything else?” Brad glanced at Gwen.
She shook her head, so he steered them through the cashier’s stand. Brad paid for the things, then took Gwen into the store’s restroom. He had Gwen hold the soap and cookies while he rinsed the grapes under the bathroom faucet.
“I’ve never been here,” Gwen said, peering around the alphas’ restroom. The walls were a pale green, and tiled. There were some urinals, some bathroom stalls. The place smelled like a mix of woodsy scents—all alpha. “Daddy always brings me to the omegas’ restroom.”
“Yeah? Is it much different?” Brad asked.
“It’s not as nice,” Gwen said. “There’s less mirrors there.”
“Fewer mirrors,” Brad corrected her. “’Less’ is for things you can’t count, like sugar. ‘Fewer’ is for things you can count, like eggs. So tell me if these mirrors can be counted.”
Gwen chewed on her lip. “There’s five of them in the other bathroom.”
“So, fewer mirrors, or less mirrors?”
“Fewer,” Gwen said, looking questioningly at him.
“Great job,” Brad said, rustling her hair with his wet hand. “You learn quick!”
Gwen squealed. Brad shook the grapes dry, heading out of the restroom with her. “C’mon, let’s get you set up, and we’ll do half an hour of violin.”
“Okay,” she said, following him to the car.
He tucked the soap and cookies into the trunk, then handed Gwen a few wound-up cables. Hauled the speakers and amplifier to the side of the store, parking them under a bright streetlamp.
Brad pulled a stool out for Gwen, handed her a blanket from his trunk just in case she was cold. Then he gave her the grapes. By the time he’d gotten his equipment set up, it was seven, and kind of late.
I’ll be there soon, was Ian’s message on his phone.
Brad grinned. He answered Ok, then tucked his phone into his pocket. Couldn’t help the thrill of excitement in his chest, knowing he’d see Ian tonight. He wanted to see Ian smile, wanted to breathe in his rose-and-honey scent. Feel Ian’s lean body against his own.
“Do you wanna hear any song in particular?” Brad asked. “I don’t know them all, but I’ll try.”
“Stars in the Sky,” Gwen said with a little wriggle. “That’s our favorite song.”
“’Our’? You mean, you and your dad?” Brad had heard that song before. In fact, he’d spent weeks adapting it to his own violin, playing it a number of times while he was out busking.
“Mm-hm.” Gwen hummed the tune, popping a grape into her mouth.
So Brad began to play along to her humming. She set the tempo, and Brad followed wherever she took the music.
Gwen was a lot better than he’d anticipated. She was bright, and charming, and Brad could see why Ian cared so much about her. To the extent that Ian would skimp on himself, but give everything he had to Gwen.
He was looking at Ian’s most precious person, and somehow, Brad knew what Ian felt toward her—so much love, and devotion, and maybe he was envious of her now, too. He wanted a little bit of that from Ian. Wanted Ian to look at him the same way, with love in his eyes.
Brad swallowed his yearning, dragging his bow across the strings. He said with his music what he couldn’t put into words—longing, desire, a craving for an omega he wanted to call his own.
His omega was out there somewhere, and Brad was waiting for him.
12
Ian
Ian glanced at the pile of envelopes on his desk, his heart heavy.
He didn’t want to open the mail. There were too many familiar logos—the insurance company, the landlord, three different credit card companies.
All of them wanted for money, and Ian knew his bank balance was hardly enough.
It felt like he was drowning, every time he had to deal with his finances.
He lifted his heavy arms, blinking wearily. It didn’t help that the pregnancy fatigue had begun to descend on him. He could barely move, much less speak, and he couldn’t find the strength to even leave the office.
When he looked up at the clock, it felt as though the second hand was racing by, and the world was moving on without him.
Ian slid the letter opener through the envelopes, one at a time. No pleasantries on any of these bills—just cold, hard numbers, and a date he had to pay them by. There had been a couple times he’d missed the deadlines, and a crippling interest had been added to his total owed.
If Brad knew the true horrors of Ian’s debt, he’d probably leave. Gods knew Ian would; he never wanted to be in debt again.
He glanced at his checkbook, then his pen. Tried to figure how much he wanted to pay now, and how much he needed to hold back so he and Gwen could afford to eat.
Why can’t I be a better dad?
Ian pushed his thumb onto the pointed tip of the letter opener, grounding himself in the pain. It was easier to think about the pain, than the debt.
He waited until blood trickled down his palm, then dabbed it dry on a tissue. Glanced at his phone.
Brad had sent a text. We’re waiting for you, whenever you’re ready to head down.
Ian thought about going up to Brad and saying, I can’t deal with this anymore. Maybe he should, so he’d know for once and all that Brad would leave.
Ian sank against his desk, pressing his forehead onto the bills. He didn’t know what to do, or how to get rid of his debt. A second job wouldn’t work out, not when Gwen was still so young.
He sat there for a moment, thinking about the time he’d gone to his parents’ home, telling them about Gwen’s heart defect.
She’s a defect
