“Pregnancy hormones or not, I’m starting to worry he’s going to lock me in the loft and feed me cottage pie until I die.” He glanced back at his brother, who was bustling around the kitchen in the throes of baking sourdough.
“I’ll speak to him,” Julian replied, handing Oliver the watering can before padding back down the garden path.
Sighing, Oliver checked his phone and saw a string of well wishes from his colleagues in the Child Protection Unit. Then his eyes trailed to Lucas’ contact details, his thumb hovering over the name as he thought about the last time he’d seen the alpha’s face. Despite the revelation of becoming an uncle, and surviving Matteus’ strict get-well-soon regimen, he’d thought about Lucas more times than he’d liked to admit. Mostly at night, when the silence made it more difficult to ignore the tug and pull in his chest. Biting the inside of his cheek, he clicked on the name and typed out three simple words.
‘Are you alright?’
His phone pinged almost immediately.‘Who is this?’
Idiot.Oliver had saved Lucas’ personal number but never actually messaged him. All their contact had been through email or work phones. Messaging through his personal phone felt oddly forbidden. Then his phone started ringing, Lucas’ name filling the screen. He yelped and thought about tossing it into the watering can, but his treacherous thumb pressed ‘answer’ before he had time to send the device to its watery grave.
“H-Hello?”
Lucas took a breath, then there was a sound of shifting and creaking, as though he had just taken a seat. “Oliver,” he said, his name sounding pained as it left the alpha’s mouth.
Oliver clenched his jaw and looked at his feet. He had well and truly saturated the potted plant, causing water to pool around his sliders. Oliver’s nose crinkled as a small, sad smile curved his lips.
“No, sorry. This is Reed,” he replied, pinching the bridge of his still-bruised nose.
Lucas chuckled, but not in his usual teasing way. “Reed,” he replied, elongating the ‘e’ making it sound more like a sigh. Theyremained silent for a few moments, as if just knowing the other was there was enough.
“Okay, well, good talking to you,” Oliver said, his bottom lip beginning to quiver.
“Yeah,” Lucas replied, without hanging up. He could hear the alpha breathing low and slow down the other end of the phone, then inhaling as though he were about to speak.
Oliver hung up then. Because he was a coward, and because he didn’t trust the words that gathered on the tip of his tongue.I’m sorry. Are you okay? I miss you.Shit, he was diabolically weak.
Matteus’eyes were wide and watery when he and Julian dropped Oliver off at his apartment the following evening. Julian had to pry Oliver’s bag out of his brother’s hands when they finally reached his front door.
“Dude, pull yourself together,” Oliver said, ruffling his brother’s hair.
Matteus let out a half-sob as he handed him two large glass trays containing yet more cottage pie. “Put them in your freezer,” he said. “I don’t want you going hungry.”
Oliver tutted and jostled his shoulder. “I’m going to turn into cottage pie at this rate.”
“At least a cottage pie doesn’t talk back.” He pulled Oliver into a hug. “Call me tomorrow.”
“Okay, mum.” Oliver rolled his eyes. “I’m joking. Please don’t tell mum.”
And with that, he was wonderfully, gloriously alone again. Rifling through his kitchen cupboards, he found half a pack of chocolate digestives and an absolutelyenormousspider.Slamming the door shut on the arachnid, he made himself a cup of Earl Grey and finished the rest of the biscuits. He had long since come to terms with the fact that he was a comfort eater, andboy, had he consumed his weight in biscuits over the last few days.
His legs ached and his joints cracked and popped from lack of use. There was nothing else for it. Exercise would help calm his restlessness, lest he transform into a custard cream. Guiltily eyeing his kickboxing pads, he went back to his bedroom and changed into a red t-shirt and black shorts. Although the bruising around his nose had faded significantly, he had no desire to injure his face any further. So, reluctantly, he taped the little splint across the bridge of his nose. It looked ridiculous, and like he had just had a nose job. He didn’t have to go crazy at the club, just run through some simple pad drills to keep his mind and body sharp, and work out the irritating ache in his lower back.
Duffle bag and water bottle in hand, he rounded the corner onto the canal towpath, just as thoughts of the six foot five alpha hit him like a freight train. Was Lucas on an early, or a late shift that evening? Changing teams and having a few days off had totally confounded his sense of time, and his brain did not have the energy to make the mental calculations. Slowing to a dawdle, he tapped his chin and tried to work out what day of the week it was, just as a young couple passed by. They stared at him as though he were having some kind of mental health crisis.Ah, fuck it. It’ll be fine.
It was most assuredlynot fine, because the moment he walked through the double doors into the dingy warehouse, there stood said six five sexy mafia boss in all his long-legged glory. Lucas’ head snapped up as soon as Oliver stepped over the threshold, drawing his concentration away from his sparring partner.
“Oh, shit! Sorry!” His beta partner said, as she landed a punch across the side of his jaw. Lucas gave her a small nod, waving it away.
He lurched forward, as though he were about to sprint across the matts, but stopped abruptly when Rhys called out.
“Oi, Ollie! Fuckin’ hell, pal. What the hell have you been doin’?” Rhys said, jogging over to slap Oliver’s back.Oliver mumbled something about a traffic light and a low-flying pigeon as he slipped out of the beta’s grasp.Fuck, he really needed to up his dishonesty game—except that was probably a poor trait for a police officer.
Lucas uttered something to his sparring partner, the deep, rolling sound of his voice travelling across the matts and making Oliver’s neck hairs stand on end. He watched as the alpha pulled off his pads, grabbed a water bottle and slipped out the side door. Oliver knew he wasn’t leaving, because the door led to a little courtyard with no other way in or out.
Rhys prattled on as Oliver filled his own bottle at the water fountain. “So, just take it easy tonight, yeah? No sparring, just pad-work.” Oliver nodded, pulling on his gloves. He’d expected Lucas to reappear after a few moments, but twenty minutes passed and the alpha had still not returned. Perhaps he’d jumped the twelve-foot fence that led to the back of the rail line. He probably could, with arms like those.
There was nothing else for it. Oliver was going to have to act his fucking age, and confront the problem head-on. So, giving his excuses to Rhys, he headed into the courtyard and found the ‘problem’ sitting atop a lop-sided bench, bottle of water still clutched between his fingers. Lucas looked up, then stood, and Oliver thought for one humiliating moment that he was going to walk straight past him and back into the building. Instead, the alpha swallowed as his hazel eyes flitted across Oliver’s still-bruised face. They lingered over his freckles, and on the greenish tint circling both his under-eyes.
