Eric perked up. “Yeah? Why not?”
“Zan’s terrible in bed. I thought—” Olivier sighed “—I was just lonely. He offered, so I accepted. I could’ve just saved myself the trouble.”
Thrice yesterday, Ollie had rubbed up against Eric, musk rolling off his skin. So Olivier had standards, and it made pride swell through Eric’s chest. “Who’s Zan?”
Olivier touched the mark on his neck; he regretted that alpha, didn’t he? Eric’s instincts growled. “Someone I was seeing for a while. He—he wasn’t great.”
“Was he the one who hurt you? With his knot.”
Olivier bit his lip. “Yeah.”
Eric narrowed his eyes, anger burning in his gut. “You aren’t keeping in touch with him, are you?”
“No.”
“Good.” Eric rocked Jenn in his arms, noting the way her eyelids were starting to droop. “Was he... did you see him again in January?”
Olivier’s forehead wrinkled. “What?”
“The baby,” Eric made himself say. The words were bitter on his tongue. “It’s Zan’s, isn’t it?”
Olivier froze. Eric couldn’t read him then, and it made his senses uneasy. “Yeah,” Olivier said eventually, looking away. “It’s Zan’s.”
It was? Eric growled, the injustice of it gnawing at him. After all Ollie had done to wash away Eric’s seed—the enema, the morning-after pill—he was keeping the baby of some alpha who had hurt him? The bastard wasn’t even here! Eric narrowed his eyes. “And you want his baby?”
Olivier shrugged, his ears turning pink. “It doesn’t matter who the baby’s father is. Stop talking about it.”
“I can’t, damn it!” Eric gritted his teeth. “I can’t believe you aren’t aborting some jerk’s child! And you did the morning-after pill after we—”
“The dad’s not a jerk!” Olivier blurted. Then he groaned, covering his face. “Can we just... talk about something else? Please?”
“I can’t,” Eric said. “You want to raise some bastard’s child?”
Olivier winced. “Yes, okay? I’m the slut your mother told you I am.”
Eric paused, his heart squeezing. Something wasn’t right about this. Ollie wasn’t a slut. He loved Eric. But the baby in his belly... It shouldn’t matter who had fathered it. Hell, Eric had told himself that multiple times.
And yet maybe it still mattered, anyway.
“You’re not a slut,” Eric said, pulling Ollie close to himself, so he could breathe the carnation off Ollie’s skin.
Olivier shrugged, looking dubious. “What else did your mom tell you about me?”
Eric hesitated. “She said some things. Like you were jerking off to me when we were kids.”
Olivier stared. Then his eyes widened and he turned away, covering his face. “Oh, gods. S-she told you that?”
That had been the truth? Eric held his breath. “You were attracted to me even that long ago?”
Olivier’s ears turned red. He hurried away, dragging Eric’s boxes of things further into the apartment. Eric strode after him, touching Olivier on the shoulder. “Ollie.”
“She caught me once,” Olivier mumbled, unable to meet Eric’s eyes. “That was the first time she called me... that word. But—but it’s not like I did anything with you. I just—You were asleep next to me when I did it, but I didn’t touch you, Eric. I swear I didn’t. I just woke up hard and I was thinking, and I-I...”
“She called you a slut then?” Eric asked, unease hissing in his gut.
Olivier nodded jerkily, fumbling with the cardboard boxes.
“How old were you?”
“I don’t know, sixteen? I’d presented for a while, and I... I was horny all the time. She said I’d go to jail if I did it again.”
Eric stared at the back of Olivier’s head, the dark gleam of his hair. “You were sixteen fucking years old when she called you a slut.”
Olivier jerked his shoulders. “I stopped rooming with you after that. I never told you the reason, but that was why.”
Eric had difficulty superimposing the two images—Mom treating him with love, and the cruelty she’d shown to Olivier. How could a person act that way?
“You never told me.”
Olivier bowed his head. “She said if I told you, I’d be whipped to hell and back.”
Eric’s stomach turned. He knelt next to Olivier, slipping his fingers against Ollie’s sweaty palm. Olivier pulled his hand away, tucking it against himself. As though he thought he was too terrible to be touched.
Eric’s heart ached for him. How could I not have known? Have you been keeping this secret for all these years? How many more secrets was Ollie hiding from him? “I’m not gonna judge you, okay?” Eric said quietly. “You don’t have to worry about that.”
“But I—” Olivier bit his lip. “I was a sick pervert, Eric.”
Eric rolled his eyes. “It’s not like I didn’t think about fucking you when I was sixteen.”
“You were fourteen back then!”
“And I was already ogling you.” Eric wrapped his arm around Ollie’s hunched back. “You never saw how I practiced kissing the omegas on magazines, Ollie.”
Olivier froze, turning to glance at him in disbelief. “That’s... not the same.”
Eric snorted. “I was preparing to kiss you. I just wanted to make sure it was perfect when I did.”
“Oh.” Olivier breathed out, his cheeks red. “I didn’t know that.”
“Now you do.” Eric lifted Olivier’s hand to his lips, kissing his knuckles. “You have me.”
“Even with... with the baby?” Ollie looked down at his abdomen, cradling it.
“Even then.”
Olivier picked at the edge of the cardboard box, his gaze downcast. “Thank you.”
He seemed so small, so vulnerable, that it didn’t make sense for Eric’s mom to treat him the way she had.
“Why’d she do that to you?” Eric asked, adjusting Jenn in his arm.
Olivier gave a crooked smile. “She said I looked like Dad’s ex. My biological mom. My mom died a long time ago, so...”
Eric froze. And Jenn weighed a thousand pounds in his arms, suddenly. “Shit, Ollie.”
Olivier looked confused. “What?”
“I just—” Eric swallowed. “Jenn.”
“Oh.” Olivier looked away. “Yeah, I’m aware.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Eric glanced at his sleeping daughter, realizing just how much he’d taken for granted, and how much he’d unwittingly hurt his omega.
Olivier’s stepmother had abused him because he looked different. And there Eric had brought Jenn to him, he’d moved into Ollie’s apartment with his daughter,
