The thing was, Spike had grown up knowing he’d need to provide. He’d watched Mom struggle to make rent, and he’d told himself, I want to help. I want to be good enough. I want to make enough money so Mom won’t have to cry when she looks at the bills.
And here Kai was, surpassing Spike in every way possible.
Why would Micah want me, when Kai’s so much better?
Before he could think further, Micah snuffled in his sleep. Then he spasmed, like he was having one of his nightmares.
Frowning, Spike sat up, grasping Micah’s shoulders. But Micah struggled and cried out in terror, thrashing against the sheets that had tangled around him. Spike tugged the sheets away from Micah’s legs, then gathered Micah into his arms, holding him close.
“It’s a nightmare,” Spike said. “Micah! Wake up. It’s not real.”
Micah struggled, his voice broken and helpless. Spike’s heart twisted. Micah should never sound that way. He shook Micah, repeating his name until Micah finally sucked in a gasping breath. His eyes flew open, full of unshed tears.
“It’s okay,” Spike whispered, guilt filling his heart. He knew what that nightmare had been about. “I’m here. You’re safe.”
Micah trembled, pressing his face into Spike’s chest. “It felt so real.”
Spike caressed the scars down Micah’s right side. “You’ve healed. It’s okay.”
Micah huddled into him and shook, not saying anything. Spike held him.
Spike remembered the first time he and Kai had woken to Micah’s nightmares. They’d all been asleep, except Micah had suddenly kicked and flailed. Kai and Spike had crowded close to him, caressing him. When Micah had finally woken, his gaze had been haunted.
Later that morning, Kai had asked Micah, What did you dream about?
Spike wished Kai had never asked it, because Micah had answered, The fire that gave me these scars. It was all around me. I couldn’t escape.
Kai had glanced at Spike, and suddenly all the years of Spike trying to convince Kai just how bad the fire had been, all the years of Spike telling Kai he’d set the house on fire—Kai hadn’t cared at first, because Micah hadn’t been his omega. Until Micah suddenly was, and Kai understood the true horrors of what Spike had done.
Kai hadn’t judged Spike, but Spike had felt so fucking ashamed in front of his brother.
Ten years ago, Micah had napped, knowing his babysitter had been in charge of a backyard party. Then the fireworks had gone awry, and Micah had woken up with his bedroom full of smoke.
He’d recounted it all to Kai and Spike—the wall by his bed ablaze, the sheets on fire around Micah’s body. Micah had fainted in sheer panic. He’d struggled in and out of consciousness to get himself off the bed, but the fire had already eaten into his flesh.
Spike couldn’t imagine the terror Micah must’ve felt, he couldn’t imagine the pain. And then the numbness, after Micah had lost his nerve endings.
“It’s not your fault,” Spike said to Micah now, trying to suppress the overpowering guilt that welled up again. “I’m here.”
Micah trembled, huddling against him. Spike kissed Micah’s wet cheeks, wiping his tears away. I don’t deserve to call you mine, after what I’ve done to you.
“I’m here,” Spike said again, even as he remembered the weight of the fireworks tube in his hands, the shrill whistle of it soaring through the air. The fire swallowing the house. I’m sorry about the scars. I’m sorry you’re suffering because of me.
Eventually, Micah stopped trembling. Spike cupped Micah’s face, peering into his eyes. “Better now?”
“Yeah,” Micah croaked, but that haunted look in his eyes remained.
Spike stroked Micah’s hair, then his scarred side, glancing at the bonding mark on Micah’s neck. There was still the one bite on it, off-balance and not right. Micah had turned down Spike’s offers to mark him.
I should just stop asking, Spike thought. Maybe I don’t deserve Micah. I’ve hurt him.
He glimpsed the check from Kai when he helped Micah off the bed. Spike’s heart grew heavier; he tried to ignore the truth that rose before them: Spike had hurt Micah, and he didn’t even have the money to pay for their baby.
When Micah realized just how young and clueless Spike was... what if he sent Spike away? What if Micah wanted only Kai?
His pulse thudding in his throat, Spike kept his mouth shut, helping Micah get dressed. The less they talked about Spike’s flaws, the longer Micah would let him stay around.
Beggars could never be choosers—Spike had learned that from his mom, too.
32
Micah
“Kai should come home,” Spike said a week later, as he walked with Micah to his office in the science faculty building. “He isn’t happy there.”
Kai had been unhappy during their video calls, but Micah wasn’t sure if it was because Kai was homesick, or if it was something else. Kai hadn’t wanted to talk about it. “Do you think that’s why he hasn’t been online lately?”
Micah missed Kai, too. Missed his quiet presence, the intensity of his gaze, the banter he had with Spike. Time and again, Micah wondered what it’d be like, if he told Kai what he’d realized: I love him. But that only meant Micah shouldn’t say it, because holding Kai back from his future was the last thing Micah wanted to do.
Spike scowled. “I saw him replying to our other friends. He’s just avoiding us.”
Micah’s heart sank. Kai wasn’t the type to disappear for no reason. Last week, Kai had buried his face in their clothes, and he’d smiled. But later in the conversation... something had made him clam up. Then he’d left abruptly again.
Micah bit his lip, stroking his belly. “I’ll message him to ask.”
“I think he should come home,” Spike said,
