“I’m fine, thanks.” Ian forced a smile.
He’d sold his car so he could make the advance payment for rent. It was a one-room place in a dingy building, worse than the one he’d lived in with Gwen.
The Fernleaf apartment complex had narrow corridors, hallway lights that were barely lit, and bulky furniture that the residents had left in the corridors. Brad would probably shudder if he saw it—the entire place was a fire hazard.
By himself, Ian didn’t need much space, though. Just somewhere he could shelter for the night.
Someone knocked on the front door. Dale and Ian both looked up.
“That must be Greg,” Dale said with a frown. “I wasn’t expecting him this early, though.”
Then the door opened, and instead of an unfamiliar alpha, Ian saw dark hair and honey-brown eyes.
Brad stepped through the doorway, his eyes locking onto Ian.
Ian’s heart stopped.
“That’s...” Dale trailed off, glancing sidelong at Ian. “Do you need me to stay?”
Ian gulped. Then he shook his head, hoping it wasn’t the wrong move.
“All right.” Dale stood, squeezing Ian’s shoulder. “I’ll be cleaning the bathrooms if you need me.”
Dale padded away, leaving the two of them alone. It was far too quiet. Brad’s gaze burned across Ian’s skin, and Ian knew Brad was looking at him, even if he couldn’t meet Brad’s eyes.
He wanted to retreat. How had Brad tracked him down?
Where do you work now? Gwen had asked this afternoon. Ian had answered, not suspecting a thing. That had been Brad asking, hadn’t it?
I should’ve known better.
Ian bit down his groan, reaching for the scabs on his hip. He barely stopped himself. Didn’t need Brad coming closer to stop him. Except Brad shut the front door, and Ian couldn’t get up from where he was sitting next to the cubbyholes.
“You aren’t—aren’t supposed to be here,” he croaked.
Brad didn’t stop until he was right in front of Ian, his shirt clinging to his biceps, his pants wrapping around his thighs when he knelt.
“How’re you doing?” Brad asked, his voice low and achingly familiar in Ian’s ears. His eyes raked over Ian’s face, hungry.
Ian sucked in a deep breath. “I’m doing okay.”
“Yeah? You sleep all right?”
This close, Ian could almost feel the heat from Brad’s body. He shuffled backward, his skin burning for Brad’s touch. It had been two weeks, and Ian wanted to lean in, wanted to breathe Brad’s scent off his skin. “I’m fine.”
“How’s Xavier?”
Ian swallowed hard. His chest ached, and he wanted Brad so much he couldn’t move. Could only sit and tremble, waiting to feel Brad’s hands on him again. “He’s—he’s okay. He started to kick.”
“He did?” Brad’s eyes lit up. He reached over, hesitating when his fingers were a few inches from Ian’s belly.
Gods, Ian wanted to lean forward, wanted to bury his face into Brad’s shoulder, and forget the shambles his life was in. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Then tell me to leave.”
Ian opened his mouth. He couldn’t make his vocal cords work.
Brad touched his fingertips to Ian’s belly, faint, blunt points of pressure. Then he cupped Ian’s belly with his palm, and his warmth soaked into Ian’s skin.
“He’s not kicking,” Brad murmured. But he looked into Ian’s eyes, and pressed their foreheads together.
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
Before Ian could react, Brad tilted his head, pressing a soft kiss to Ian’s lips. Ian’s breath shuddered out of him. And Brad kissed him harder, nipping at him, his touch so familiar that Ian wanted to close his eyes. Except Brad was still looking at him, and Ian could scarcely believe this was happening.
Brad wasn’t supposed to kiss him. He was supposed to leave and find a better life.
“Gwen misses you,” Brad whispered, brushing his palm against Ian’s nape. “And so do I.”
“You need to leave,” Ian croaked, his heart twisting.
Brad nudged Ian’s mouth open, sliding his tongue inside. He felt so familiar, so good, that Ian almost cried.
For one surreal moment, Ian gave in. He touched his tongue to Brad’s, just to taste him, feel what it was like to have an alpha again. Brad deepened the kiss, his lips hot against Ian’s, his wrist dragging down Ian’s belly. Ian’s toes curled. His lungs filled with walnut.
Brad wasn’t supposed to return.
“Stop,” Ian gasped, shoving him away. And his skin grew cold, needing Brad’s warmth.
Brad stared, reading far too much of Ian. “You still love me.”
Ian looked away. Couldn’t answer the question. “Please leave.”
“Answer me, damn it!”
“No, I don’t love you,” Ian said. “Go away, Brad. I left for a reason. You’re—you’re not good enough.”
It was a lie, but Brad flinched. Ian looked at the tiled floors. He wanted to apologize, take it back. Except Brad needed to move on with his life. He needed to see what was out there. Ian would only drag him down.
“I’m no longer your omega,” Ian said. The words fell off his tongue like jagged stones, ripping his heart to shreds.
Brad withdrew his touch, his eyes full of glass. “Okay. I understand.”
Ian swallowed. He kept his gaze on the floor as Brad rose to his feet. Ian listened to every footfall, then the quiet click of the front door closing.
Outside, Brad’s car started. Then he pulled out of the parking lot, and the engine’s rumble trailed into the distance.
Ian closed his eyes, his ribs squeezing so tight he thought they might shatter. I’m sorry.
It felt like he was cutting Brad out of his life, all over again.
Ian scratched at the scabs on his hip, losing track of time. When Dale touched his shoulder, Ian jumped, looking up. He rubbed at his wet eyes, before meeting Dale’s sympathetic gaze.
“He seems like a good person,” Dale murmured.
“He is,” Ian said. “I’m just... not good enough for him.”
“Oh, Ian.” Dale sighed, pulling Ian into a hug. “I’m sure you’re good enough.”
Ian didn’t believe him. And Dale’s hug felt nothing like Gwen’s, or Brad’s.
Ian’s chest collapsed, but there wasn’t family to hold onto anymore.
* * *
A week later, Ian trudged home, his
