He bit back his tears, trudging to his car. Left his phone on the passenger seat, making his way to the prenatal clinic.
Deep down, he knew he shouldn’t take his mother’s words to heart. She had her own issues, and what she said shouldn’t have any impact on his life.
But what if Ian really was a defect? What if Brad saw the truth, sooner or later? Brad would leave. Maybe he’d take Gwen with him. The court would grant Brad their child, because he was alpha.
Ian swiped away his tears, driving to the prenatal clinic. He wanted to pull out his house keys, jab one into his thigh just so he could think about the pain, and nothing else. It was better than hearing those words over and over in his head: You’re a defect.
Heart defects could be repaired. But if his person was rotten? How did you fix that?
He parked outside the clinic, reaching into his glove box.
Instead of a metal letter opener, Ian found Brad’s iPod, the one Brad had tucked into the cookie tin. Brad had wrapped the white earbud cord around the iPod, and the device gleamed at him, all sapphire-blue.
Ian took it out of the glove box. Unrolled the earbuds, and pressed them into his ears.
Five minutes. He could try that.
Ian fiddled with the buttons until a song started to play. It was one he hadn’t heard before, all quick notes swooping down low, then soaring high. He closed his eyes, pressed his forehead to the steering wheel. Imagined Brad with his violin, his eyes closed, his body swaying.
For a few precious moments, Ian surrounded himself with Brad’s music, and all was well.
23
Brad
It wasn’t so much a nightmare, as it was a dream.
In his dream, Brad sat with his mother by the beach, on a lone bench at the bottom of a cliff. It was her favorite spot; they’d visited it for years.
She held his hand and hummed, her auburn hair swaying in the breeze. She looked as though she was just over forty, her cheeks still smooth, her mouth curved in a smile.
“I have an omega,” Brad said. He couldn’t remember why he needed to tell her that, only that he had to. “We have a daughter together. Her name’s Gwen. And we have a second baby on the way.”
Mom’s eyes crinkled in delight. “Do you?”
“Yeah.” Brad grinned, his spirits soaring. “His name is Ian. I love him.”
She smiled wider. “What is he like?”
“He’s beautiful,” Brad said. “He has these blue eyes, and when he smiles, he lights up the whole room.”
Mom laughed. “The whole room, or your heart?”
“Both. Probably my heart. I want you to meet him,” Brad said. “He was my professor in college.”
“He sounds intelligent,” Mom said.
“He is. And he raised Gwen really well, too. She’s amazing.” Brad grinned, looking around for Ian, but Ian was nowhere to be found on the beach. There was just him and his mom, and the sky was darkening. “I met him a long time ago, and then I found him again. He’s the best thing that ever happened in my life.”
Mom pulled him into a hug, laughing. “That is incredible, Brad. I’m so happy for you.”
“I want you to be there when I marry him,” Brad said. “Will you attend?”
“Of course.” She kissed him on the cheek, smelling like plumeria. Brad breathed her in, something in his heart settling.
Lightning flashed in the clouds. He leaned in close, holding her hand. She hummed again. It was the lullaby he remembered from his childhood, all soothing and warm.
How should I propose? Brad was about to ask. He closed his eyes, and the words came out of his mouth in a mumble.
When he opened his eyes, the beach was gone, the clouds were gone, and he was alone in his bedroom, the mattress next to him empty.
Brad fumbled for his phone. Wanted to text his mom, ask her how he should propose to his omega.
There was a message from Ian. Brad left it for now, scrolling through his contacts. Couldn’t find his mom. Why...?
It hit him then, dull and crushing like a sledgehammer.
Mom was dead.
There was no way he could text her, and no way she could attend his wedding, or meet Ian at all.
Brad stared at his phone, his heart stopping. He tried to come to terms with how real she’d been in his dream, how warm and solid she was next to him. She’d smiled, and she’d been happy about Ian, and now Brad couldn’t breathe through the suffocating emptiness in his chest.
Mom was dead. She’d died in a fire years ago, and somehow, Brad’s dream self had forgotten that.
Couldn’t believe he’d never see her again. Couldn’t believe he couldn’t show Ian to her, and Gwen, and the new baby. There were so many things Brad wanted to tell his mom, and he couldn’t, and that hurt a lot more than he thought it would.
I thought I was over this.
He pressed his palms to his eyes, breathing through the ache in his chest. Then he buried his face in his pillow. Cried a little. Wanted to claw out the pain in his chest.
Brad thought about Ian, wanting to pull Ian close. He fumbled around for his phone, blinking hard.
There was something in his mouth, uncomfortable. He stuck out his tongue, pulled off a longish white hair. Ian’s, probably. Ian had white hairs. He was almost fifty.
Brad’s mom had been just shy of fifty when she’d died. That wasn’t so much older than Ian, was it? With the pregnancy, Ian’s life would be at risk, too.
Brad gulped, staring blankly at Ian’s text. Thought about Ian being older, Ian probably leaving the world before him.
That shook him, too. He thought about the grief of Ian’s passing, the inevitable time when they’d have to part ways.
Brad swore, swinging his legs off the bed. He couldn’t stand to consider it. He shoved the idea away, trying not to remember his mom, too.
