Lucas lurched forward, one hand braced against the bonnet as he stalked to the front of the car. “Don’t come after me,” Oliver growled, his fangs bared. Because how could anyone in their right fucking mind love him?
He could barely see straight as he sprinted up the stairs to his apartment, the tears spewed out as he struggled to get the keys out of his pocket. “Fuck,” he hissed. “Fucking, fuck, fuck.”
Yanking open the door, he threw himself inside and slammed it shut behind him. Pressing his back against the door, he held his head in his hands and slid to the floor. He’d known pain. He’d known heartache, but nothing compared to what he felt in that moment. It was as though his literal heart was about to explode under the intense weight of his own misery.
It was a relief when the alpha didn’t follow, but it still took a good hour for Oliver to hear the v6 pulling away. When it did, a fresh wave of despair washed over him, and he covered his eyes to stop himself crying. Everything smelled like Lucas. Everything down to the fucking bath towels and dishcloths. He wanted to drown in it. He longed to suffocate and becomecompletely consumed, so he would never have to face the break of day again. But those were dark,darkthoughts. The kind he’d not had in a long time.
So, peeling himself off the floor, he took off his coat, turned on the shower, and blocked Patrick Coletta’s number once and for all. He’d already decided to report him to the local authority—not for the horrible things he’d said, but because he’d said them in front of a vulnerable child. He may have appeared like a half-decent social worker, but in reality, he didn’t give two shits about the children he was supposed to protect. Not even Oliver’s own embarrassment was worth subjecting another child to that twatbag.
Groaning, Oliver stepped into the shower. He had no idea what tomorrow would bring, but at the very least, he wanted to wash away the stench of stale smoke and regret. Not bothering to dry his hair or put on pyjamas, he slumped onto the bed and embraced the numbness that was slowly spreading through his body.
It felt like a part of him had been torn away, as his and Lucas’ bond throbbed, causing his brain to flood his body with chemicals to stop it going into shock. Much liked loosing a limb. It was a strange sensation, and he felt oddly at ease with the world. Lucas would be burden free, and Alfie safe.
Except, where did that leave him? How would he move forward? The answer was obvious—he wouldn’t. He’d stay in his little one-bedroom flat and live out his days as a crazy cat man, just like he’d always planned. He’d be a wonderful uncle to Matty’s child, and that would be his lot in life.
So, pulling on his dressing gown, he padded to the kitchen and took out his laptop to write the report. His fingers were sluggish, the stress of the day having fried something in his cerebral cortex, which made stringing sentences together amonumentaltask. But the image of Alfie staring up at the sharktank kept him focused and guided him forward one word at a time. He worked late into the night, only checking the time when an almighty shiver ran up his spine.Shit, it was nearly two o’clock in the morning. He’d have to pull an all-nighter.
NINETEEN
TACTICAL AVOIDANCE
“Piss off,” he said, as his alarm went off that morning.Coffee cup clutched between his hands, he finally pressed ‘send’ on the email to the Inspector. Then the panic set in. He thought about retracting the email, and had to physically slap his own hand as it drifted towards the ‘undo’ button.No. This was good. This was a step forward. Despite all the chaos in his life, he could do this for himself. And for Alfie.
“Alright, Dai?”Rhys said the following afternoon. He jogged across the mats with Mathilda propped on his hip. Oliver pulled a silly face at the girl, but quickly dropped his eyes when he spotted Lucas sparring across the other side of the hall. “We’re doing a round of tag fights with the newbies, you in?”
Oliver wrapped his hands as he glanced towards the growing crowd, frowning at how the younger members gathered around Lucas in excited anticipation.
“Nah,” he shrugged, pulling on his gloves. “Just pad work today.”
Rhys coughed. “What? But you and Luke love beating the shit out of each other.”
“Beat the shit, beat the SHIT!” Matilda chanted at the top of her lungs. Sammy flicked his head up, tutting loudly from across the training hall.
Rhys grimaced as he kissed his daughter's cheek. “I said meet the ship, honeybunch.” Then mouthed ‘sorry’ in Sammy’s direction. “Can’t say anything without these two repeating it. I almost miss the days when theycouldn’ttalk.” Oliver gave a humourless laugh as he turned towards the pads. “Oi,” Rhys said, grabbing his elbow. “What's got its teeth in you, Ollie? I’ve never seen you so down in the dumps.”
“Nothing,” he replied, yanking his arm away. “I’ve just had a busy few days.”
Rhys pouted, readjusting Matilda on his hip. “Nothing a few rounds of tag sparring couldn’t sort, right?” Because if only a few rounds of tag sparring could fix the mess he’d made.
They met againat the water dispenser the following morning. He and Lucas had, unfortunately, crossed paths in the corridor—both with empty bottles in their hands. Oliver could have turned back, but the oncoming tidal wave of police cadets would have made the avoidance even more obvious. So, they waited in awkward silence whilst Nancy filled her obnoxiously large pink container and chatted away.
Lucas’ breath was warm across the back of his head—the close proximity hadn’t been intentional, but the fifteen over-eager police cadets took up so much fucking space that he and the alpha found themselves shoved into the corner.
“And thenthe bloke from CSI said they weretoo busyto process my swabs, and that I’d have to wait until next week!” Nancy said, completely oblivious to the tension.
Oliver hadn’t told her. In fact, he’d been avoiding all mention of the six foot five alpha like the fucking plague.
“I mean… what the fuck are they even doing in there?” Nancy continued. “Last time I went into the lab they were gathered around the sergeant’s desk playing poker.”
Oliver nodded, but was more focused on Lucas’ scent, and the way it made his skin tingle. “Reed—” Lucas whispered, his fingers brushing the back of his hand.
“Oh bollocks!” one of the police cadets shrieked as she turned her police issue bowler hat upside down. “Which one of you fuckers drew a cock on the back of my hat? Parade’s in ten minutes!”
Oliver used the distraction to slip away from the group and back down the corridor. Thankfully, the alpha didn’t follow.
A further twodays went by, and they’d managed to skirt around one another with varying degrees of success. The ache in Oliver’s chest wasn’t subsiding, and he found himself staring into nothing as he sat alone in his flat at night. He’d washed the towels, emptied the fridge, and gathered the few items that belonged to the alpha into a neat little pile in the living room. He could not, however, bring himself to wash the bedsheets.
Since submitting the report it’d been radio silence from the Inspector, and at one point Oliver checked his outbox to see if the email had actually sent. It had, but still nothing. He tried to keep himself busy, but as the days ticked away the aching in his chest grew more and more unbearable. Seeing Lucas everydayphysically hurt, and it didn’t help that the investigation had reached a stalemate, with most of their recent enquiries leading to more questions than answers.
