Omega Teacher’s Secret

by Anna Wineheart

  Below, the other firefighters were striding into the building, some already carrying out limp residents. Roger climbed through the first window; Brad took the second. He pushed through the thick smoke, found a prone figure on the floor. It was a woman—small, in her twenties.

  He scooped her up, balanced her across his shoulders, and strode back to the window, listening to Harris’ commands on the radio.

  Cole had climbed the ladder to back them up. He took Roger’s evacuee, and when Roger climbed onto the ladder and moved it across to Brad’s window, Brad handed him the woman. Roger carried her down the ladder; Brad moved the ladder to the third window, where a child hung halfway out.

  There was at least a person at every window this floor, and Brad could see the fear and desperation in their eyes.

  Beyond them, at the last window, another face poked out.

  Pale hair, thin face, frightened eyes that Brad knew too well.

  Ian.

  Brad’s stomach dropped.

  Ian had soot in his hair, and he was lit from behind by the fire in his apartment.

  Between them, there were another four windows, four people to rescue. How long until I can reach you?

  His heart racing now, Brad scooped the child into his arms. There was no way he could turn around to hand the child over; he climbed down the ladder, painfully aware of the seconds that ticked by, the number of people still in the building, the fire that grew bigger by the second.

  There was his job, and then there was an omega who was in a very real danger of being devoured by the fire.

  His omega.

  At the base of the ladder, Brad set the child down. Cole would deal with him. Roger had climbed back up the ladder; Brad jogged after him, knowing he couldn’t play favorites. And yet.

  Roger ducked into the fourth window. Brad took the fifth. He almost couldn’t breathe as he thought about Ian at that last window, still waiting. Some of these people were already unconscious. How long could Ian wait?

  People died of smoke inhalation all the time. Brad knew that. It made him tremble as he climbed out the window with his evacuee, jogging down the ladder faster than he should. He made himself slow down. Made himself wait for Roger to clear the ladder, his eyes glued onto Ian’s silhouette by the window.

  Ian fell out of sight, and Brad’s heart stopped.

  Maybe Ian had just crouched instead of falling unconscious. Maybe he was bending over to retrieve something.

  Please be okay. Please don’t die.

  But Ian didn’t poke his head out of the window a second time. Brad’s nerves frazzled. Roger was taking far too long to get off the ladder. Brad needed to get up there, needed to extract his omega from certain death.

  If he lost Ian, if Ian was completely gone from this world... what would he do? Brad couldn’t raise Gwen alone. Even if he’d fucked up, even if he wasn’t good enough, part of him wanted to do better, so he could be an alpha worthy of his bondmate.

  I can’t mess up this time.

  He couldn’t live without Ian, couldn’t bear to think of a world without Ian smiling, Ian cradled against him, warm and soft and perfect.

  When Roger deposited his evacuee with Cole, he went back up. Brad jogged after him, his heart crashing against his ribs.

  Even if Ian was older than him... At least he was still alive. He couldn’t die yet. Brad still had years to spend with him—fuck staying away because he was scared. Living in this half-life without Ian... he couldn’t do it.

  If Brad had Ian back in his arms... he would treasure every minute and second and day they had.

  Roger disappeared into the sixth window; Brad waited until the ladder moved, then climbed onto Ian’s window, perching on the windowsill.

  Flames had consumed most of the apartment; there was hardly anything left in the tiny room but smoke and fire.

  Beneath him, Ian had hunched over, coughing into a towel. He was still alive.

  Brad fought the blooming relief in his lungs. He dropped to the floor beside Ian, and Ian looked up.

  Their gazes locked. Ian’s eyes grew wide; his mouth fell open.

  Brad didn’t wait for him to speak. Just hauled Ian onto his shoulders and climbed out through the window, waiting for the ladder to return.

  The flames licked at them. Brad anchored his most precious person against himself, set foot on the ladder, and climbed down. He didn’t stop at the base of the ladder, though. He carried Ian all the way to the paramedic truck, then set him down next to Philippe.

  “Take care of him,” Brad told Philippe. “He’s mine.”

  He exchanged a look with Ian. Didn’t dare wait for Ian’s answer, in case Ian rejected him again.

  Relieved that his omega was safe, Brad hurried back to the ladder truck. Ian would be fine under Philippe’s care.

  Whether Ian wanted Brad as his alpha again... Brad was nervous to find out.

  Harris drove the ladder truck to the next side of the building. As long as there were people in there, they couldn’t put the fires out—the water would turn into steam, and scald the rest of the occupants.

  Brad repeated the process with Roger and Cole. The fire had consumed most of this side of the building; there was hardly any floor left unburnt. Brad looked at the charred remnants of furniture, his thoughts whirling too fast.

  Ian could’ve been trapped on this side of the building. Brad could’ve lost him.

  That still shook him, more than he wanted it to.

  He climbed into a second story window, picking his way past fallen beams and burning floorboards. The integrity of the building was plummeting; they couldn’t stay in here for much longer.

  Brad thought he saw movement, maybe heard a child’s cry. He made his way through the burning rooms, determined not to leave any survivors behind.

  He found no one.

  On his way back to the window, something fell from the ceiling. He didn’t see it until it was too late. The beam hit his helmet, and the impact went to his head.

  Brad fell, blacking out.

  31

  Ian

  Ian breathed in deep, holding the mask the EMT had given him. His throat was sore, and his skin stung like a bad sunburn.

  Brad had saved him. He hadn’t expected to see Brad’s face through the mask, hadn’t thought Brad would scoop him up, carry him out of the fire.

  He’s mine, Brad had said, his voice muffled.

  Ian’s heart had stumbled.

  And now Brad was gone again. Ian wobbled over to the ladder truck, waiting for Brad to return.

  The firefighter on the ladder paused at one of the windows, peering inside. Then he climbed in, his movements hurried.

  When he emerged, there was another firefighter slung across his shoulders. Ian stopped breathing. That couldn’t be Brad... could it?

  Ian hadn’t heard Brad talk much about the dangers of his job. But he’d heard plenty about unstable buildings, smoke inhalation, and concussions from falling objects.

  With his evacuee, the firefighter strode toward the paramedic truck—his wasn’t a face Ian recognized.

  Where was Brad?

  Ian wrapped his arm around his belly, fear creeping through his veins. He hurried up behind the firefighter, peering through the fallen man’s mask. Through the hard plastic, Ian glimpsed Brad’s face, his eyes closed, his body limp.

  Panic filtered through his veins. Ian followed Brad and his coworker to the paramedics, scarcely breathing as the firefighter lay Brad down, pulling off his helmet.

  Without his protective gear, Brad looked... vulnerable. Like he could be hurt easily. He was already hurt.

  “A beam fell on him,” the firefighter said. “I found him unconscious.”

  Ian clutched at himself, shuddering at the thought. Despite Brad being strong, there was only so much his body could withstand.

  “How long has it been?” The EMT shone a light into Brad’s eye.

  “Not long. A minute or so.”

  Ian watched as the m
en frowned. He couldn’t help replaying those last few moments in his head, when Brad had scooped him up, his hands gentle.

  Brad had come to save him, and now this.

  “Is he going to be okay?” Ian croaked.

  The EMT met his eyes worriedly. “Depends on whether he wakes up soon.”

  Ian recognized the EMT—that was Philippe, the same person who had taken care of Gwen at the station. He trusted Philippe. But for Philippe to look uncertain... What if Brad didn’t wake up? What if he never saw Brad smile again?

  Ian waited, watching Brad’s face. Brad didn’t move. Ian counted the seconds that passed, and with each moment Brad remained unconscious, his anxiety spiked.

  What if Brad never woke up?

  His throat closing, Ian fell to his knees next to Brad, curling his fingers around Brad’s hand. He knew Brad was constantly exposed to danger on the job. And yet, seeing it for himself, knowing just how much Brad risked each time he stepped into a burning building...

  What if Brad lost his life right here, and Ian never told him the truth? What if there were no more chances to wake up next to Brad, or hear his voice?

  I should’ve said I’m sorry. I should’ve told you that you were perfect.

  Ian squeezed Brad’s hand, biting back a sob. He’d chosen to leave Brad. He’d taken himself out of Brad’s life, and it had been the wrong decision, being so far away from his alpha.

  Is it okay for me to be selfish? I can care for Gwen. I can make myself useful.

  Gods, if there was one thing Ian could change... it would be leaving his alpha. If Brad woke up, and if Brad wanted him back, Ian would leap at that opportunity. He didn’t want to think of spending another day without his alpha.

  Ian’s heart splintered, and he couldn’t breathe. Please be okay.

  Against his palm, Brad’s fingers twitched. His eyelids fluttered, and he cracked open his eyes.

  Ian held his breath, scarcely daring to believe it.

  “Where’m I?” Brad blinked.

  “Hey.” Philippe snapped his fingers in front of Brad’s face. “What’s your name?”

  “Brad.”

  “Full name.”

  “Brad... Saxon.”

  “Who’s our team leader? I want his full name, too,” Philippe said.

  “Harris…” Brad took a moment. “Harrison Fields.”

  “What about the president?”

  Brad scowled. “Damned if I know, Philippe. What happened?”

  “You tell me,” Philippe said. “Roger brought you here. You were concussed.”

  Brad frowned, shaking his head. “Was... was heading out. I think there was a window. I just remember fire.”

  His gaze drifted away from Philippe. Ian held his breath, his heart stopping when their eyes met. Brad’s gaze darkened. His fingers twitched. Then he seemed to realize Ian’s hand was in his, and his fingers tightened around Ian’s.

  You still want me? Ian thought.

  “You were unconscious,” Philippe said. “Just about two minutes, but we’ll have to send you in to get you looked at.”

  Brad nodded. “Yeah, okay.” He breathed out, rubbing his head with his other hand. “I’m fine. See to someone else, Phil.”

  Philippe glanced at Ian. “If he shows any other signs of concussion—slurred speech, nausea, headache, memory loss, blurred vision—come right to me.”

  Ian nodded vigorously, committing the symptoms all to memory. “Yeah. I will.”

  Philippe waved, then headed off to tend to the other burn victims. Ian watched him leave. When he looked back, Brad’s gaze was still on him. Ian was nervous, suddenly.

  “Hey,” Brad murmured, pushing himself up into a sitting position.

  “Do you still remember my name?” Ian asked. “My full name.”

  Brad rolled his eyes. “Not you, too.” But he leaned forward, dragging his gloved finger against Ian’s jaw. “Can’t forget you, McMillan.”

  Ian gulped, his heart squeezing. “That’s not my full name.”

  “Ian.”

  This time, something in his chest unfurled. Ian bit his lip, his heart pattering.

  He didn’t know if Brad would really be okay, or if he’d ever be good enough for someone like Brad. Ian didn’t know if Brad would accept him back, when Ian was the one who had initiated the breakup. It had been three weeks.

  In the heat of the moment, it had seemed so easy to think he could tell Brad I love you, and everything would be solved.

  “Are you really okay?” Ian asked, his stomach jolting with anxiety.

  “Yeah, I am. My head hurts, though.” Brad paused. “The top one.”

  Ian stared. “I can’t—can’t believe you’re joking about this.” But he cracked a smile, unable to help it. Brad was here. He was alive. “You almost died.”

  “I didn’t almost die.” Brad caught Ian’s hand, entwining their fingers together. “Anything to see you smile, though.”

  Ian faltered under the intensity of his gaze. “Aren’t you supposed to have short-term amnesia when you get a concussion?”

  Brad shrugged, but he pulled off his gloves, reaching up. When he touched Ian’s chin, his fingers were warm, callused, exactly the way Ian remembered. “Guess I couldn’t forget you.”

  That made Ian’s breath hitch. “O-oh.”

  Brad leaned in, pressing their foreheads together. His warmth soaked into Ian’s skin, and his eyes blurred, all honey-brown.

  “For a bit there, when you dropped behind the window... I thought for sure you were gonna die,” Brad murmured. “I almost pissed myself—I was so scared.”

  Ian forgot to breathe. “You... were?”

  “Yeah. I love you. Never stopped loving you for a single moment, you know. Don’t want to imagine a life without you.” Brad’s voice rumbled into Ian’s ears, and his fingers tangled in Ian’s hair.

  Ian trembled, tears filling his eyes. Brad loves me. “I’m sorry,” Ian whispered. “I shouldn’t have told you that you weren’t good enough. I—I was lying.”

  Brad breathed in sharply. “Yeah?”

  “I love you,” Ian mumbled, guilt filling his lungs. “I’m sorry I told you otherwise. I don’t care about your past, Brad. I don’t care about my job at the college, or your dad, or your mistakes. I just love you. I’m sorry it took me so long to realize it.”

  Brad’s eyes widened. Then he cradled Ian’s face in his hands, his breath hot on Ian’s lips. “Yeah? You love me?”

  Brad’s chest heaved, and the way he looked at Ian—his eyes intent, full of hope—Ian couldn’t bear to part with him again. Couldn’t bear to let go, or tell Brad any more lies. Brad didn’t deserve to be lied to at all.

  Ian nodded jerkily, looking away. “I was afraid you were going to die. I can’t... I don’t want that to happen. I don’t want you to leave.”

  “I’m not gonna leave,” Brad growled, sliding his arm around Ian’s shoulders. “Never gonna leave you, as long as you want me to stay.”

  “Please,” Ian whispered, bowing his head. He couldn’t help the gut-wrenching fear. “If—if you’ll have me again...”

  “Yeah,” Brad breathed. “I want you to be mine. Forever, and a decade after that.”

  He does want me. Ian laughed softly, weak with relief. He flattened his hands against the thick material of Brad’s firefighting coat, trying to find skin.

  Brad cupped his face and kissed him hard, and Ian groaned into his mouth, his nerves tingling at the sweet caress of Brad’s lips. Brad smelled like smoke and ash, but his mouth was warm, inviting, and it felt like part of Ian’s life was settling back into place with his touch.

  “Mine,” Brad whispered, dragging his wrists down Ian’s face, leaving a trail of walnut on Ian’s skin. “I want you home with me. Want you in my bed, Ian. Want to taste you and mark you and make you scream.”

  Ian shuddered, the nerves in his body lighting up. He couldn’t forget the fear that Brad might die, the terrible, hopeless moments when he thought he would lose
his alpha forever.

  Brad was here. He was alive, he wanted Ian, and the relief and joy that swelled through Ian’s chest leaked from his eyes as tears.

  “Don’t cry,” Brad murmured, brushing Ian’s tears away with his thumbs.

  “I’m happy,” Ian said. “I just... I missed you so much.”

  Brad pulled Ian close, dropping kisses all over his face. “Same here. Gwen, too. She keeps asking when you’re coming home.”

  Ian swallowed hard, the anticipation of seeing Gwen tightening his throat. “She does?”

  “Yeah.” Brad stroked Ian’s hair. “I hired a babysitter to watch her while I’m on duty. It’s not the same, though. Nothing’s the same without you.”

  Ian bit his lip hard, pressing his face into Brad’s shoulder. He cried, all the pent-up fear and worry spilling out of him. Brad held him tightly, his arms strong and secure, his lips pressed against Ian’s neck.

  It felt safe in his arms. Like Ian had found his way home, and there wasn’t a better place to be.

  When Ian was certain that Brad wasn’t leaving, when he felt brave enough to look up again, he breathed out, bowing his head. “I’m not the best omega out there—”

  “Hush.” Brad pressed a kiss to his lips. “You are.”

  Ian stared. “But you know I’m old—”

  “Yeah. I know that,” Brad murmured. “But I also know you’re brave and strong, and that you’ll do anything for our children. And you’re beautiful. I’d be so proud to have you by my side.”

  Ian swallowed hard. “Okay.”

  “You’re worthy,” Brad said softly. “Remember? I want you to tell yourself that. Every day. No skipping.”

  “Really?” Ian asked, uncertain.

  “That’s the only condition to you moving back in.” Brad smiled wryly.

  “What if I don’t say it?” Ian squirmed.

  “Then I’ll be disappointed, and I’ll nag, but I’m not gonna kick you out.” Brad kissed him on the nose. “Never gonna let you go again.”

  Ian chuckled, the weight on his heart easing away. “You’re sure about that.”

  “Absolutely sure.”

  Brad pressed their heads together. They watched as the other firefighters doused the flames with jets of water, steam billowing out through the windows. The residents lingered around as the fires extinguished, and the medics saw to the injured, patching them up.