Pember was staring at him with a strange expression, a sort of despondency that did not seem to be situated within the present. It was the same look he’d had when they first met.
Pember blinked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Straightening his clothes, he shook his head. “No, thanks,” he said, giving Blake a tight smile. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
Blake frowned. He was speaking in the same way he did at work. Clipped, weirdly formal, and not at all like the teasing, softly spoken patter that Blake was used to.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. Anyway, I’ll just—” Pember moved around the kitchen table, collecting his phone and his house keys as he drifted towards the door. He glanced at the sofa, then at Blake, before quickly grabbing the knitted blanket that they’d shared in the night and walking out the door.
Blake’s nostrils flared when it clicked shut, and it was taking all of his strength not to fly out of the house after him. “Fuck.”
Blake was pacing. Badly. He’d just about managed to give instructions to the doctor before stalking back to his own house, cleaning his teeth and getting dressed in a navy blue suit. Straightening his tie, he returned to his kitchen and stared outthe back window. He wanted to check the perimeter of the houses. Make sure nothing and no one was hanging around. In fact, he wanted to camp outside Pember’s front door and piss on every corner of the building.
His wolf knew why.
“Bollocks,” he said, grinding his teeth.
In the quarter of an hour since leaving Val’s, a whole plethora of thoughts and scenarios had entered his head. His rational brain knew that it was totally reasonable, and probably sensible, for Pember to want to deal with his heat in his own way. The animal, meathead alpha side wanted to rip the door off the hinges and tear his clothes off.
The self-absorbedpart of his brain glanced at the pill box next to the fridge and thought,Is it any fucking wonder he doesn’t want you?Blake was seven years older, a divorcee, and despite being in excellent physical condition, he could still drop dead at any moment. Who the fuck wanted that lingering over them?
Groaning, Blake scrubbed a hand through his hair. Hereallyneeded to head into work. There were so many enquiries to be made, and he didn’t trust Mark to divvy out the jobs.
However, there was no way in hell he’d be able to concentrate in his current state, so, against his better judgement, he did something he hadn’t done in a very long time.
He called his parents.
Scrolling through his contacts, he tapped on the photograph of his omega father as he cuddled George in a tiny elf hat. Christmas 2022, when he and Rebecca were still together. She didn’t attend Christmas dinner, said something about an emergency at work.
In hindsight, Blake realised it had been utter bollocks and she was most definitely visiting her bit on the side. She was an architect—of course she didn’t fucking work on Christmas Day.But, Blake had been so wrapped up in his own work that he’d barely given it a second thought. Or perhaps he simply hadn’t wanted to believe it.
The dial tone connected after only two rings.
“Blake? What’s wrong? What’s happened?”
Blake winced at the sound of his omega father’s voice. His tone had dropped in the year since they’d spoken properly, making him sound much older. Their infrequent conversations always started the same—his dad assuming the worst, and Blake feeling like an absolute piece of shit because of it.
“Hi, Dad,” he said, leaning against the back door. “How’ve you been?”
His father let out a breath. “I’m good, baby. Has something happened?”
Blake grimaced. “No. Nothing’s happened, I just…”
Need some advice? Feel terrible about not seeing you for over a year? I’m so highly strung right now I need someone to talk me down?
“I wondered if you wanted to… catch up sometime. I, uh—” Shit, why was talking suddenly so difficult? “Sorry, I’ll leave you be. I know you’ve got a lot on?—”
“Baby, what’s wrong? Has something happened with your?—”
“The heart’s fine, Dad.”Although that wasn’t strictly true at that current moment in time.“Honestly, everything’s fine.” His voice cracked at the end, which most definitely indicated that everything wasnotfine.
He could hear his father breathing heavily through the phone.
“How’s Pops?” he said, trying to steer the conversation somewhere else. “Is he still managing that massive consultancy firm?”
His father huffed out a laugh. “Of course. Doesn’t bloody stop, like you. Baby, you’d tell me if something was wrong, wouldn’t you?”
Blake was rapidly beginning to regret calling. “Dinner?” he said, trying to deflect the conversation even further away from what a shit son he’d been over the last year.
