His heart cracked, saying that.
Eric looked away, not denying it. Olivier’s throat tightened; he wanted to hide away and cry where Eric couldn’t see him. After two months... He had been hoping that Eric had unlocked his buried emotions, and maybe love him again. Except Eric hadn’t, and Olivier had no right to push.
Olivier eased himself out of Eric’s grasp, his heart thudding dully. No matter what he felt for his stepbrother, Eric wasn’t meant to be his. Years ago, Ollie had a chance to accept Eric’s love. He’d squandered that chance.
“I’m heading back by myself,” Olivier said, looking at the floor. “Go home first.”
“But you don’t have a ride.”
“I’ll get Levi to drop me off.” Olivier hid his wince. He hadn’t wanted Levi to be correct about Eric.
“Ollie.” Eric stepped toward him.
“Go home,” Olivier said, backing away. “I’ll—I’ll figure things out.”
He fled the store, blinking away his tears. It wasn’t as though Eric could find a happy future with him. Eric would always be tied to their family, and his heart was always destined for someone else.
Not someone like Olivier.
18
Olivier
Jenn sat in the cart, looking expectantly up at Olivier.
“I guess it’s just me and you,” he said.
Jenn gave him a silly grin, blowing a raspberry.
Olivier couldn’t help cracking a smile. He blew a raspberry back; Jenn giggled.
It seemed that Eric’s eleven-month-old had no idea about the awkwardness that lay between her father and Olivier.
Last night, Ollie had dragged his feet going home. Levi had dropped him off at the apartment, and Olivier had looked up at the warm glow of his windows, picturing Eric with Jenn, Eric with some omega other than himself.
Eric should have known by now that Olivier was used goods. Jenn would’ve been better off with an actual omega dad, someone who could show his face around her extended family.
Depressed, Olivier had sat at the foot of the building, waiting until Eric had turned off the lights. Then he’d crept upstairs, grabbed a spare blanket, and curled up on the couch. It had taken him a long time to fall asleep.
This morning, he’d woken up in bed, the blankets pulled up to his chin, Eric’s scent surrounding him. Eric had left the apartment, and Jenn had been wailing on the baby monitor.
There’s been a burglary at work, a note had said on the bedside table. Eric’s handwriting comprised of sloping letters, each short and purposeful. Sorry about Jenn. I couldn’t find help to care for her this early. I’ve fed her and changed her diapers. She might need more when you wake.
Olivier had been miffed at that. Then he’d realized that Eric was counting on him, and it had filled him with determination.
“Awwr,” Jenn said, breaking him from his thoughts.
“I guess it’s just you and me for now,” Olivier said. “We now have eggs and some cereal. And teething cookies for you.”
Jenn babbled, turning to look when someone walked down the aisle with a jingling baby rattle. She hadn’t had any new toys since she moved in two weeks ago, had she? Olivier chewed on his lip, turning the cart out of the produce section.
The children’s department wasn’t too far away—on one table, onesies with cartoon characters were piled high. On another table, there were tiny T-shirts and dresses for toddlers. On a third table, there were socks and mittens, and tiny hats.
These clothes were too small for Jenn—they were newborn outfits, and Olivier touched the barely-showing bump of his belly, wondering when he should begin stocking up on clothes for his own. Should he let Eric see, or should he hide the clothes away so Eric wouldn’t feel obliged to help?
He paused by the mittens, fingering the soft, woolly fabric. Thought about Eric’s child in his belly, a flicker of life that he wanted to cradle and protect.
Olivier picked out a pair of tiny striped socks. They were on sale, and surely... he could afford to spend a bit on his child. The revenue at Olivier’s Strings had increased a little with Eric’s help.
So Ollie tucked the mittens next to Jenn, his heart thumping.
He was having a baby. The mittens made it a little more real.
“Bababa,” Jenn said, looking at him.
“Do you want something, too?” Olivier asked with a smile. It didn’t seem fair, if he bought something for Jenn’s half-sibling without getting her anything.
So he turned the cart down the baby toy aisle, finding the rattle that Jenn had been so curious about. It was pastel green and pink, plastic, jingling with each movement.
Jenn reached out for it with both hands, eager. Olivier raised it above her head, watching as she strained for it, kicking her tiny feet.
She wasn’t his child. And yet, as he gave her the rattle and watched her toothy smile, she felt like... someone close to him. She was his niece.
Maybe that made all the difference—Jenn was Eric’s flesh and blood, too. Not just some other omega’s.
She was his alpha’s child, and in a roundabout way, she was also his.
Olivier swallowed, his heart swelling with affection.
They were almost out of the children’s department when they passed an aisle of pastel bottles—baby lotions and shampoos and body washes. Cartoon cows smiled cheerily on the lotion bottles, beckoning him to bring them home.
Olivier bit his lip. Jenn was his niece. He’d never given her a gift for her baby shower, and he should. So they turned down the aisle, Olivier eyeing the most expensive brand there—Highton’s Finest was what his stepmother had bought for her children years back.
“What do you think?” he asked Jenn. “See anything you like?”
Jenn babbled, shaking her rattle.
So Olivier set a bottle of lotion in the cart, his heart twinging at the price. Ten dollars for a small bottle. Organic ingredients, no dyes, no parabens.
“I think you’ll like this,” he murmured. With a brand Eric was familiar with... Eric would smile, wouldn’t he?
His heart skipping, Olivier turned the shopping cart down the produce aisles, showing Jenn the lemons
