Father Figure: M/M Mpreg Gay Romance (Never Too Late Book 4)

by Aiden Bates

  "You do have people around you that care for you, Sam. You had a colleague who noticed that you were unhappy about some things in your life, and recommended that you get some help for it. That's how you got here." She gestured around the office. "Your boss seems to have wanted you to be happy as well. It was misguided, and it was wrong of him. It hurt Oliver, but he was trying to help you."

  "It was wrong of him to hurt Oliver." Sam clenched his hands into fists.

  She gave his fists a pointed stare but said nothing. "It was. Alphas are supposed to protect omegas." Then she sighed. "I'm not going to pretend to know what you should do about the baby, Sam. That's not something you can decide on in an hour, and it's an intensely personal decision for the couple. Or for the person carrying the baby." She met his eyes. "It's entirely possible that it's too late. I won't lie. But it will definitely be too late if you don't make the attempt to share your feelings with Oliver."

  Sam nodded. She was right. "I'll do it. The letters, I mean. Everything I said in person just pissed him off more." He looked up at her again. "Why wouldn't he be happier about having a baby? I mean, Jake even got pissed at me for saying that."

  She bowed her head for a second. "He'd be raising a child alone, with no support. He might face discrimination for being a single omega parent and he might be censured at work for having sex with a colleague."

  "Oh. I hadn't thought about that." He hung his head. "I raised my kids alone, but I had their grandparents and stuff."

  "And you were a widower. It's different for someone who got pregnant when they shouldn't have. Especially since I'm guessing he comes from some sort of religious background, considering that he was saving himself as you mentioned." The timer pinged. "Give some thought to what I've said, and I'll see you for your regular appointment on Thursday."

  Sam shook her hand and headed home. Once he got there, he headed out onto the deck and stared at the lake for a moment. Then he took out his pen and started to write.

  He wrote to Joey first. He apologized for his behavior on Saturday. I'll probably always have an issue with falling into that "parent" mindset. That's what the therapist said, anyway, but I'll do better if I know about it and try to fight it. I don't know if it makes you feel any better, but my plan was to ask you how you were and talk about what you were up to. I disappointed myself by fighting with you.

  I miss you.

  You're a good man, and a good alpha. I'm proud of you. I still think that what we talked about would be the best solution for Oliver, but I have to say that I'm proud of you for thinking of Oliver's wants and needs first. That's what makes you the better choice, honestly. A good alpha protects omegas. I've failed in every possible way.

  But that's not here or there. My point is that you're amazing, and I love you, and I'm proud of you. Even over the past few years when we weren't speaking, I've been proud of you. Please come home.

  His next letter was to Jake. I wanted to thank you for taking care of Oliver. I know I've dropped the ball, and you're right to be disappointed in me. You're a good son, an incredible man, and an amazing omega. I'm proud of you.

  I know that you're not doing what you wanted to do your whole life. I'm sorry that I blocked that. I hope you've learned to love the lab. I know that your work is considered top-notch. I have my biases, and I couldn't overcome what happened to your dad. Not even for you. I'm sorry. That's not on you, that's on me. I'm so sorry that it's taken me this long to get my head out of my ass.

  And then there's the whole thing where putting my omega son in harm's way made my blood run cold. It shouldn't be different for omegas, but it is. I'm working to get better.

  Finally, I'm glad you're standing up to me. I don't always act like it, but I am. I think I need that. It means that you haven't given up on me. If you're still willing to stand up and get in my face, you still think there's someone in there worth saving. I love you, son. Thank you.

  The last letter was to Oliver. He had to sit there for a long time before he could figure out what to say to Oliver. Finally, he put pen to paper. Oliver, I know I've put you in pain. I'm still putting you in pain, and I'll probably never even know all of the ways. I'm an alpha. I can't understand everything.

  I do want to have some presence in our child's life. I don't know in what capacity yet. I'm too old to become a father. I'll be on my way out when the baby's just starting out in life. What kind of a legacy is that to give? I'm a mess, and I know it. Rather, I'm just learning how much of a mess I am. You've seen how much damage I've done with my sons, who hate me.

  I could play the part of an old great uncle, though. And I'll do the child support thing. You won't be on your own in that way.

  I'm so sorry I made you feel the way I did. I have this thing where I just shoot my mouth off, I push people away. Losing your respect and affection is the biggest blow of all. I loved Chris. It was never like what I feel for you, and some days I just want to sink right down into the earth.

  I am sorry for everything that I've done to you. I'm sorry that I made your first experience bad. I'm sorry that I've ruined your hopes and your dreams. If it's ever in my power to do something to bring you closer to happiness, please let me know.

  Sam stared at the letter for a long moment, and then he folded it up and put it into an envelope. If he tried to edit it, he'd wind up burning it.

  The next morning, he slipped Oliver's letter into his mailbox, and Jake and Joey's letters into Jake's mailbox. He didn't have any other way to get Joey's to him. Then he headed to his own office, where the DNA results from the Marsten swabs awaited him.

  Chapter Twelve

  Oliver walked into his office with a big smile on his face. He greeted the receptionist. He shook hands with the janitor, who was mopping up after what looked like a rookie cop's failure to reach the barrel after a visit to the morgue. He high-fived Javier, and took his seat with enthusiasm.

  "Tell me that's just hormonal," Jake groaned from his seat.

  "Nope." Oliver passed one of the two coffees he'd brought in over to his best friend. "I've decided I'm not going to let anger and bitterness rule my life. I meant what I said yesterday. It was turning me into someone I don't want to be. I am that happy guy at the office who loves his job and is there because he wants to be. Sam doesn't get to take that from me unless I allow it, and I'm stronger than that." He drummed his hands on the desk for a moment.

  "And what's not to be happy about, huh?" He threw his arms out wide. "Look around you. Every one of these files is a question. Every one of these questions can be answered. By us, us people sitting here in our white coats, with our computers and our machines and our big and beautiful brains." He smiled even more widely, until he thought that his head might fall off. "Out there, beyond that door, there are problems. I've got problems. You've got problems. Javier's got problems, Molly's got problems, Deepika's got problems. But once that door is closed, all we have are questions and answers. If we just do our jobs, put one foot in front of the other, we can put the questions and answers together and everything will make sense."

  Javier, Molly, and Deepika all applauded. Jake just raised an eyebrow at him. "Very inspiring," Jake said, as the others turned back to their tasks. "This does explain the number of days you forgot to come home and stayed at the lab all night. Did you get a letter in your mailbox this morning?"

  "I did!" Oliver kept his huge, manic grin plastered on his face. He booted up his computer and stared straight at the screen. He wasn't willing to look at Jake. That might have put a crack in his cheer.

  "Did you read it?"

  Oliver logged in. "I did not! That letter was likely to contain Problems, and Problems need to stay outside the lab." He kept his voice light and cheerful.

  "Okay, but Oliver, I think he's really trying to fix things. I'm not sure what your letter or Joey's letter said, but he admitted that he has some issues that he's trying to work through. He's trying to get better. Maybe you don't want to make a hasty decision before you read it." />
  Oliver put his hands flat on his desk. "Jake," he said, and he let the cheer fade from his voice, "I feel like I've given him so many chances to explain himself that I might as well be a daytime talk show. Nothing changes. It's all about him. Everything is all about him, and how he knows what's best. It's all an excuse. And it's fine—I mean, he has the right to make decisions for himself, that suit his needs and everything, but he doesn't get to sit there and decide what I really want or need.

  "Every time that I interact with him, I get hurt. Every time. So sure, I love him. I don't know why at this point, because he's not half the man I thought he was, but I'm in kind of a crap situation here and I don't have time to wait for him to come around. I don't have time to hold his hand or tell him how special he is. He's decided, whatever excuse he wants to slather over it, that he's not going to be with me or this kid." He snapped his fingers. "Okay, fine. Done. He's out, but now I have to focus on what comes next and how to get to what comes next and still keep my identity."

  Oliver picked up his head. "My life is crap right now. But you know what?" He slathered that smile back onto his face. "I've still got the lab. I've got this place, where I don't have to sit around and think about how I might cheerfully kill to wake up in someone's arms, just once, but I'll never get that chance. Or how, assuming that I keep this baby, if something happens to me it will go directly into the foster care system because I'm all it has. Or how if I lose my job I'll be homeless with a baby on the way, or with a baby. Or how there isn't anyone around who can take me to the hospital when the time comes, because it's no one else's job. Just mine, because I was stupid." He blinked back tears.

  "I can't do anything about any of that right now. But you want to know what I can do something about?" He picked up a file. "I can test these samples for the presence of heroin. And if there is heroin, I can contribute to keeping it off the streets. That will keep it from messing up hundreds of lives. I have to keep my head on straight in order to do that. So—problems stay outside the lab, the damn letter stays in its box, and I get to be the happy guy in the lab who loves his job and is here because he wants to be."

  Jake blinked back tears too. "I wish it could be different, bro."

  "I used to." Oliver bowed his head. "Now I just want to get through it."

  Oliver tested the samples with the GC-MassSpec. Just as he'd thought, the substance was in fact heroin. It wasn't pure heroin, though. The drug had been cut with a lot of filler, to include quinine and rat poison. That made Oliver raise his eyebrows. Quinine was a toxic, but not uncommon, filler for street heroin. Rat poison might cross the line into murder.

  Of course, it wasn't his place to prosecute. All that he did was write up the report. It was up to the detectives from whatever jurisdiction had submitted the samples to pursue the dealers, and up to the prosecutor to get the conviction. Oliver would testify in court when they'd done their jobs, months or even years after he'd run the tests. That was the extent of his involvement.

  He wrote up the report and started to prep the samples for another piece of the backlog when he got a message. This one was from Ray Langer. We just arrested Isaiah Marsten for the 1992 Cooper Block fire. You want to come and take a gander?

  Oliver blinked at his screen. Who said take a gander these days? He declined the invitation. Thanks, but my place is here.

  The truth was, he wanted to go. He wanted to at least watch the interrogation. He'd been there for the beginning of the case. He should get to be there for the end of the case, too. It was only right.

  He couldn't trust the guys from Cold Case. Who knew if they'd been in on this whole plot? Maybe they had, maybe they hadn't, but Oliver couldn't be sure. That meant that he couldn't be sure that this invitation wasn't part of a setup to try to get him and Sam back together.

  Something else Sam had cost him.

  He wasn't going to think about that. He was going to be the happy guy in the lab. He turned back to working on his samples, and kept working on them until he left for the day.

  On his way out, he saw that letter sitting in his mailbox again. His hand hovered over it. He could take it out and bring it home. At home he could read it and get as angry as he needed to, and then he could let it all go away by the next morning.

  He walked away, leaving the letter where it was. He didn't owe Sam anything, certainly not his attention. He couldn't move forward if he let Sam keep tugging him back, and there would always be part of him that would want that letter to be something it couldn't. He'd want it to be a love letter, or an apology. He'd want Sam to ask him to come back, which Sam would never do. He'd want Sam to admit that he was wrong, which would happen only after the world ended.

  He went home, grabbed some food, and considered his options yet again.

  He ran a quick budget. He might be able to afford to have this baby, if he could find a comparatively inexpensive daycare facility. Of course, that wouldn't cover all of the times he got called in to deal with sudden finds or emergencies. The baby would just have to deal with growing up at crime scenes.

  What a life. Shuttled from crime scene to crime scene, stuck sitting in a car or at Oliver's desk while Oliver worked. It wasn't like Oliver could afford to quit his job, either. Maybe sometimes Joe or Jake would be willing to watch their little sibling, but that wasn't something he could ask of them all that often and they both had jobs that involved being on-call themselves.

  Then there was the apartment situation. Oliver couldn't afford to buy yet. If he tried to upgrade to a bigger apartment, he wouldn't be able to afford daycare at all. Sure, they could share the bedroom. That would be fine until school started, he guessed, or until they were both trying to get dressed independently of each other.

  None of that had any bearing on the mental or emotional toll of parenthood. People liked to pretend that having a child was just a few sleepless nights and then all cuddles and giggles. Oliver knew better. Kids got fussy. They got whiny. They got demanding. They threw tantrums. In Oliver's case, there wasn't going to be anyone else who could step in when things got to be too much. It was going to be all him, twenty-four-seven, forever.

  Rebellion welled up in his heart. Why in the hell should it be all him, anyway? He hadn't been the only one to make this baby! Why should Sam get away without any consequences while Oliver had to suffer?

  He forced those thoughts away. He knew why. That was just the way that things were. He could probably go after Sam for child support, which would ease some of the financial burden, but that wouldn't help with any of the other issues.

  Abortion was one option, but it wasn't viable. Omega abortions were technically legal in Massachusetts, but few doctors would perform them. It wasn't so much a moral decision as a matter of risk. An omega didn't develop an opening for a fetus to emerge from until the point of birth, so an abortion had to involve risky abdominal surgery with a long recovery time. Most doctors wouldn't accept that kind of risk unless the omega in question's life were in immediate danger. He might be able to find someone who would do it, but the long recovery time was daunting.

  That left adoption. Oliver could always have the baby adopted by someone who couldn't give birth themselves. The thought alone gave him chest pains, and for a moment he wondered if he should go to the hospital. They subsided after a moment, and he returned to his contemplation.

  He didn't necessarily want to give up his baby. He didn't want to be a parent, either, not alone, but the thought of carrying the baby under his heart, going through birth, and then having nothing to show for it made him cry. He'd already lost his alpha, his hopes, his dreams, and even his innocence. This baby was his only chance to have anything like a family. Now he had to seriously consider giving it to someone else.

  At the same time, what kind of a life could he offer this child? He was in no position to raise a child alone. He wasn't suited to it. He might be able to scrape by financially, but only if there were no surprises. That didn't take into account the physical, mental, or emotional tol
l on him.

  Let people call him selfish. He'd seen how it could be for a kid, to grow up with a parent that had no support at all and just couldn't cope. He'd been there, he'd done that, he had the damn tee shirt. He couldn't justify doing that to any child, never mind one that he had carried under his heart for nine months. Not one that he loved.

  He dropped his hand down to his belly. He wasn't showing yet; that was a long way off. He couldn't feel the baby either. He could admit, though, deep inside, that he loved this baby. He might not want it, but he loved it. He loved it too much to subject it to the life he'd had growing up.

  He headed off to bed. He knew what he had to do. He hated it. Something inside of him screamed out in pain at the thought, and he couldn't do anything to stop it. He was an omega, damn it. He needed connections. He needed a family of some kind, any kind. He had Jake, but Jake would have a family of his own soon. He had a few casual friends, but no one he could lean on. This baby was his one chance, and he couldn't take it and still look at himself in the mirror.