“You had a concussion,” Micah chided, the tension in his chest easing a little. He still remembered the stark fear of Spike not waking up. “I want to make sure you’re completely well before you come home.”
“You care about me, huh?” Spike smiled crookedly, his gaze raking over Micah’s face. But there was a shadow in his eyes, the same uncertainty that Micah felt.
As the EMTs closed the ambulance doors and they settled in for the ride, Spike reached out to Micah. Just a few fingers wriggling in the air between them—but they spoke so much. They said, I want you closer.
Micah took his hand, his throat growing tight. Spike’s warmth soaked into his skin. It wasn’t enough. But they were in a moving vehicle, and Micah wasn’t supposed to stand and crowd around Spike right now.
“The drunks beat you up so badly,” Micah said, breaking the silence. “You didn’t have to step in, Spike. You could’ve died. If they’d brought guns, if they’d hit you the wrong way... I was so worried.” His voice trembled.
Spike glared. “I wasn’t letting you face them by yourself. And I’m not gonna die. I made you a promise, okay? I’m here to protect you no matter what.”
Micah’s throat squeezed tight. “So you just happened to... be there?”
“I followed you.” Spike looked away, his ears turning pink. “I know I’m not supposed to.”
Not for the first time, Micah realized how much he loved this alpha. How much he cherished this man. As much as Micah hated the injuries that Spike had received, he was grateful for Spike’s presence. For the simple brush of their hands. The sight of Spike blushing again.
It was such a small thing, but Micah had missed this most, the easy intimacy between them.
“I’m sorry for sending you away,” he blurted. Just so Spike wouldn’t notice Micah holding his hand for so long. “I’m sorry for not believing in you. I just... I felt so terrible that day in front of Bernard. I’m not like the other omegas at the college, Spike. I don’t have the looks. I’m twenty years older than you—”
“And I don’t care about any of that.” Spike reached up, stroking Micah’s cheek with his knuckles. “You should know it by now.”
Micah bowed his head, embarrassment burning his cheeks. He knew that. “There was that... that thing with Bernard. I’d never mentioned it. I thought it would never come up again.”
Spike huffed, caressing Micah’s cheekbone with his thumb, a soft touch. It was just one point of contact, but it meant acceptance. And that felt like everything in the world. “I was surprised. Wasn’t happy that you didn’t tell me earlier.”
Micah flushed. “It’s not something I’m proud of.”
“Then why’d you do it?”
“I needed a job.” Micah bit his lip. “York was a newborn at that time.”
Spike caught Micah’s chin, turning Micah’s face so their gazes met. “You’re the bravest person I know,” Spike murmured, brushing his thumb over Micah’s lower lip. “I—I’m so sorry I caused all your scars. And the nightmares. I just—” Spike choked up, looking away. “I can’t tell you how guilty I feel for making you hurt so much.”
“Shh.” Micah squeezed Spike’s hand, trying to soothe him. “You were ten. It wasn’t your fault at all.”
“But—”
“It wasn’t something you did on purpose.”
“It was still something I did.” Spike’s gaze was shadowed, self-recriminating.
“And I want you to forgive yourself for that.” Micah kissed Spike’s palm, just holding his hand. “I’ll—I’ll look past the scars if it’ll help you feel better. I want you to be happy, okay?”
Spike smiled crookedly. “All I want is for you to understand that you’re beautiful. Even with the scars.”
Micah leaned his cheek into Spike’s hand, his heart thumping. Spike was still here. He was still accepting Micah, still holding him, and this was so much more than Micah could hope for. “I’ll try,” Micah said, kissing Spike’s palm, his pulse skipping at this simple touch. “I’ll try to see me the way you do.”
Spike’s eyes brightened, then dulled. “I’m so fucking sorry I lost you your job, Micah. But if you want me back, if you’ll let me support you for however long I can—”
A tiny laugh bubbled up through Micah’s chest. Even with his concussion, Spike was still trying to be the best alpha he could. Micah’s heart swelled for him.
“You’re so precious,” Micah whispered, cupping Spike’s hand with his own. “I’d like—If you’d have me again, I’d like to be your omega. Please.”
His breath snagged, saying those words. Micah didn’t know what he’d do if Spike rejected him now.
Instead, Spike lit up, so bright that Micah saw nothing but his joy. And sheer relief filled Micah’s chest, easing some of the weight away.
The moment the ambulance pulled to a stop, Micah stood, leaning over Spike, just cradling his face. Touching him. Making sure Spike was real, that he was alive.
Spike cupped the back of Micah’s head and pulled him down. For a second, there was only Spike’s hot breath on Micah’s lips. Then Micah closed the distance, meshing their lips together. The contact sent a hum of pleasure through Micah’s body, a sense of belonging. Spike growled, nipping at Micah’s lips, his teeth sharp points on Micah’s skin.
Spike slipped his tongue into Micah’s mouth, touching him there. Tasting him. Micah pulled him closer yet, tasting blood on Spike’s tongue. Spike was hurt. But he was fine, he was in Micah’s arms, safe.
“Fuck, I’ve missed this,” Spike whispered. “I love you so much.”
Micah’s breath stumbled; his heart squeezed tight. “I love you, too.”
For a moment, there was nothing but Spike in Micah’s world, copper eyes a blur beneath him. Spike’s wrists dragging down Micah’s arms, marking him with juniper. This felt right. Micah had one of his alphas again, and he swore to himself he’d never let Spike go. Tears welled up in his eyes.
The EMT pulled the ambulance door open. With a yelp, Micah broke away from
