Scratch that, his whole fucking life.
“You come here, yeah? You still haven’t seen the new place.”
There was a pause, followed by a rustling noise. “Blake.” His alpha father’s voice ricocheted up his spine. It never failed to make him tense. “What’ve you done now?”
Blake gritted his teeth. “Hi, Pops.”
“Blake’s invited us for dinner at his new place,” his omega father said. The hope in his voice made Blake’s chest ache.
“Has he really? Well, colour me surprised, it’s not like it’s been over a fucking year.”
“Eli!” his omega father growled.
“What? He never bloody calls, never replies to texts, then just rings us one day out of the blue. Forgive me, Greg, if I’m a little bit fucking sceptical.”
Blake winced, because he couldn’t really argue with that.
“You lost your job or something?” his pops continued.
“No.”
“In debt?”
“No, Pops.”
“Got someone knocked up?”
“Jesus Christ, no. I called because it’s been too long, and I… I needed to talk to Dad about something.”
He heard his omega father squeal and snatch the phone away. “Yes? How can I help?”
Blake sighed and rubbed his temples. “I just wondered… how would one,hypothetically, go about helping an omega feel more comfortable during their heat? Platonically, I mean.”
There was a pause, one that was way longer than necessary. Eventually, his father let out a breath. “It’s hard to say. Everyone’s different, but for me it’d be dark chocolate and energy drinks. Maybe some cooling gel because my joints would always flare up, and ice packs for… you know.”
Blake snorted. “Right. Anything else?”
“I like scented candles and whale music, but that’s just me. The whale music drives your pops up the wall, mind you.”
Blake couldn’t help but laugh. His pops had a short fuse at the best of times, add animal sounds to the mix and it was likely to cause a brain aneurysm.
“So, this omega is a friend of yours?” his father continued.
Blake sighed. “Did I not just sayhypothetically?”
“Yes, but I doubt you’d sound so bashful about someone hypothetical.”
“Stop snooping, Gregory!” his alpha father snapped.
“I’m not snooping, I’m only—anyway, when would you like us?”
They tentatively made plans for a barbecue at the end of the month, his and his father’s work schedules permitting, before Blake hung up and slumped on the sofa.
CHAPTER 22
BENCH CONVERSATIONS
Blake
