by Jill Haven
But his features fogged with confusion and he half turned as if the answer would be sitting on the gleaming range behind him.
“The crush.” I still hadn’t regained the full power of my speech, and I untied my apron, folding it in a neat square just so my hands had something to do.
Parting my lips, I sucked small breaths in through my mouth, avoiding the tantalizing scent of August. I couldn’t handle that just now.
“I…ahh…” He rubbed the back of his neck, the quiet rasping sound he made like gun cracks, increasing my awareness of him even more.
I stepped away, finding my own prep table to lean against. I didn’t prompt him. I waited him out and watched his cheeks flush as he seemed to war with whatever thoughts he was having. I bit the inside of my lip to keep the smile from my face. He was adorable, and part of me just wanted to scoop him up and keep him safe forever.
Finally, his full lips parted, and I leaned forward, ready for the whole story, but he only spoke one word.
“Years.”
But that one word was so good, I repeated it. “Years?”
“Yeah, but it’s over now. Like, done. I think it started when I first got into cooking. You were my inspiration.” He scuffed his foot on the floor and focused all of his attention on a mark at the base of the prep table.
Over me? He’d gone from kissing me on the prep table right over—
I couldn’t look at it.
“You went from years to over me in days?” I wasn’t sure what shone through most in my tone—incredulity or disappointment.
“Sure.” He shrugged, but the movement was jerky, as if he had to focus really hard to make it happen.
“And you never let on to Ryker?” He’d have told me, surely? If Ryker had known, he’d have warned me. Perhaps if he’d warned me, I could have protected myself better somehow, kept my distance. “Or…or…” I hesitated. “Dawson?”
August jerked his head up to face me, his eyes wide. “What did you just say?”
“I knew your brother. We were both friends with Ryker.” I rushed on, not trusting myself to pitch this right. I hadn’t meant to hide anything, but Ryker had filled me in on a lot of the details on August and Dawson’s relationship and family life, and I didn’t want to upset August, and it never come up because I was too busy wrestling with my feelings for August and trying to contain those.
“You knew Dawson?” August’s voice faded to almost nothing.
“And I knew you as a kid,” I admitted, fear prickling across my skin as I waited for his reaction.
He rested all of his weight on his hands, curling his fingers over the edge of the table until the tips shone white, as if that stance was all that held him up. “Of course,” he whispered.
I leaned closer. “Of course what?”
Sweat beaded his brow. “Of course it has to do with Dawson,” he ground out.
“What? I mean, what has to do with Dawson?” I glanced at the clock. It was far too late to have this conversation with August. I hadn’t prepared for it. I hadn’t thought about it, honestly, and now I wished I had.
“It’s because I’m Dawson’s little brother, isn’t it? That guy just craps on everything. Because of him, I’m still a child to you.” August’s voice turned frosty and he scuffed his shoe harder across the floor. “That’s the reason you don’t want me. I’ll always be your friend’s kid brother. Well, you know what, I’m not a little kid anymore.”
I took a deep breath and parted my lips to reply, but a video of images of August as a child played through my mind, and I hesitated, my age suddenly my primary thought.
Shit.
Shit, shit, shit.
I waited too long to form any sort of reply that didn’t involve me feeling fucking ancient as he stood in front of me, so angry at his brother for something Dawson hadn’t even done, and August huffed out a harsh laugh.
He shook his head, a sardonic smile in place. “Well, don’t you worry anymore, Dawson’s friend. Whatever I’ve felt for you all these years is over and done. I am over it. Sooo totally over it.” He cleared his throat. “Just one thing, I guess—can we go back to pretending we don’t know what each other’s tongues taste like?” He shot me a glance full of challenge, and I forgot to mouth breathe, drawing his moss scent through my nose to fill my chest.
My dick twitched, a surge of excitement pushing blood into my shaft. His tongue… oh, God… His tongue, soft and silky smooth and touching mine. I shifted and crossed my legs. He couldn’t see what he did to me.
He was still watching me, so I nodded. There weren’t any words, so I remained mute, silent in an unnaturally quiet kitchen.
August nodded, his head bobbing slowly. “Yep. Gotcha.” He pointed at me and clicked his fingers then picked up his backpack and left, the door banging shut behind him.
I buried my face in my hands. The idea that watching him walk away could be the biggest mistake of my life—and according to Harland, definitely would be—teasing my thoughts.
I headed back to my office to grab my things and head home. I needed a quiet, dark room. I needed a drink. I needed anything but August, but I also needed only August. My life hadn’t made sense since I met him.
I grabbed my cell from the desk and the screen lit up, displaying a missed call—The Cedar House.
Fear gripped my chest. Mom. I returned the call.
“It’s Ewin Storm. I missed a call. Is my mother…is she…”
“Absolutely fine,” the nurse on the other end said. “She just didn’t have the best day again, but don’t worry, these might become more frequent as the disease progresses.”
I blew out a sigh, a mix of sadness and relief, and put my drink and darkened room on hold. “I’ll be right there.”
11
August
June 17th
I shook my head and refocused my attention on the thermometers in the steaks for about the thirtieth time that minute. If I didn’t get my fucking shit together, I’d start making more of those things that let Ewin know I was trying. Besides, who let a cold affect their work this much? I stifled a shiver. I was pretty sure it was a cold, but it kind of felt worse.
I spooned Ewin’s artisan garlic butter over the steak and ran through my symptoms in my head. Flu-like hot and cold shivers, aching joints, pain in my… shit. The spoon I’d held clattered back into the skillet. I checked everything I was feeling again then grabbed my cell phone and internet searched the fuck out of my symptoms.
My head fell back. And I rubbed my palms over my face. It couldn’t be. I hadn’t gone into heat since… Shit. Since so long I could barely remember. No sexual desire meant no heat, and even when I had experienced my first ones as a teenager, they never did this to me. I rubbed my upper arms, trying to ease away my shivers and checked the steaks again. Shit. I’d overcooked them.
As I laid fresh meat in the pan, the door from the alleyway opened and Jonas stuck his head around.
“Hey, dude,” he greeted me. “It’s my day off, but I came to check on ya.”
“Puh-leeze. On your day off?” I tried to smile at him, but the movement hurt my face. Pain traveled up my neck and through my head, and I winced.
Jonas stood by my side in seconds, his hand cupping my elbow. “You okay? You’re not looking so hot.”
“Yeah.” I swallowed and nodded, trying to clear my vision enough to see the teeny-tiny numbers on the thermometer. Since when did they get so small? I shoved my face up against one. That was better. I could read it now.
“Whoa! Hey, August, pull back, man.” Jonas dragged me away from the range. “What are you doing, dude?”
“Reading the thermometer so I don’t overcook the steak, of course.” Duh! It was obvious and I managed a little shrug before the pain in my shoulders forced them still again.
“I got this. You, sit.” He pointed. “Over there. Far, far away from food and hot things.”
I slumped against the wall, watching Jonas as he handled my station.
> “You okay, August?” Noah glanced over at me from his corner of the kitchen. “Can I get you a glass of water or anything?”
I shook my head and closed my eyes. Even drinking seemed like too much effort.
Hmm? Why was my bed rocking?
Jonas shook my shoulder again. “Come on, man. My car’s right outside. Let me get you home.”
“Huh?” I blinked. What was Jonas doing in my bedroom? And why did my bedroom smell like the kitchen at work? I batted him away. “Leave me alone, Jonas. I’m tired.”
“I know you are, August.” His voice was gentle, and I closed my eyes again. “But we’re all finished up here for today, crises averted, and I need to get you home before health and safety comes in and catches you taking a nap on the kitchen floor.”
I laughed. Maybe I was drunk, because the world seemed to slide away as he helped me to my feet.
“Let’s get you home.” He groaned as he took my full weight. “We need to get you on a diet. For a skinny guy, you’ve got some weight to ya.”
I laughed and the world slid away again, leaving me light-headed and short of breath.
“Steady, steady…nearly there. How about you wait to pass out until we’re in the car? Because…” He groaned again. “Yeah, you’re not light, buddy.”
We made it across the parking lot jerky two-step style, and he slid me into the passenger seat of his car before leaning across me to buckle my seatbelt.
His face hovered real close to mine and his breath tickled my skin. “I’ll call Jenny, all right? She’s a nurse; she’ll know what to do.”
I smiled. Or at least I think I did. But my eyes fluttered closed again before I could look in the mirror to check.
When we arrived at my apartment, Jonas manhandled me inside and pretty much dropped me on my couch.
“Ouch?” I mumbled.
“I’m calling Jenny now.”
Snippets of their conversation floated to me. “Right… And where do I put the thermometer? Okay… Water and Tylenol… I’ll check. When can you get here? I think he needs more than I can do.” He patted my hand. “She’s coming, buddy. We’ll get you through. I’ll pitch some meds into ya in the meantime to keep you comfortable. She’ll be… she’ll be right here.” He backed away. “I’m just gonna go search your bathroom cabinet, I guess. None of your secrets are safe anymore.”
He left the room, and I heard him rummaging in a cabinet somewhere miles down the hall. My head hurt, and I let it bounce off the pillow behind me as I dropped it back. Heat washed through me, scalding my insides.
I swallowed the pills Jonas pushed into my mouth and glugged down gallons of cool water, but they weren’t enough to quench the inferno inside me. Nothing would ever be enough.
A cool hand passed over my forehead. “You were right.” Her voice was unfamiliar. “I think he might have the flu, but he’s also definitely in heat. He needs to be in a hospital. His body can’t heal the flu while he’s in heat—the two aspects are fighting each other.”
Jonas groaned. “You mean I have to get him back into my car?”
I chuckled, the situation suddenly striking me as funny.
“I’ll help you,” Jenny said. “It’s quicker than calling 911.”
Everywhere smelled of disinfectant, and people kept shining bright lights in my eyes. Voices were muffled and loud like no one had control of their volume, and I just wanted to sleep.
“August, hey, August, dude?” Jonas spoke right at my ear. “Jenny was right. You’ve got the flu and you’re in heat. The doctor said he wants to give you a shot. A quick-acting suppressor, to see if it helps. If it eases some of your discomfort, we can take you home.”
I nodded, which gave him permission to keep talking.
“Jenny wondered if you have anyone to stay with you. I’ve got your cell right here. I can call someone?”
I nodded again and tried to speak around a thick tongue stuck to the roof of my dry mouth. “Brody. Call Bro.”
I woke up in bed with Brody sitting to my left, his long legs stretched out so his feet rested next to mine.
He glanced up. “How you doing?”
I groaned and shifted, trying to hide my raging hard-on under the fold of my comforter. “I feel like crap, Bro.”
He chuckled. “Because of the flu or because you’re in heat?”
“I don’t know. Everything aches.” But the pain in my head had lessened, leaving only the throb of an unsatisfied cock. “It was easier when I was asleep,” I grumbled.
“Yeah,” Brody agreed. “A lot less whining then, too.” He nodded and tapped against the screen of his phone. “You need anything?”
“Ugh.” I stretched. “The bathroom.”
“Okay. Let’s get you out of bed, dude.” Brody waited for me to sit up, and when I was sure I wouldn’t poke him in the eye with my dick, I lowered my feet to the floor, and he helped me to stand. “You got this?”
But I sagged against him, and we made slow progress down the hall. As much gratitude as I felt to Brody for his help, I wanted Ewin. I didn’t want to want him and his constant rejections, but my body didn’t know any better. It was as if he just drew me to him. His scent, the rich spice and warm honey, comforted me, offering me promises of protection and loyalty. Promises Ewin didn’t seem to want or be able to keep.
As Brody helped me back into bed, I flopped against my pillow. “Sorry you got stuck with babysitting.”
“No big deal. Someone needs to make sure you’re okay. You want anything to eat?” He half rose from his chair.
I swallowed a small surge of nausea at the thought of food. My stomach cramped and I wrapped my arm across it. Brody followed my movement with his eyes.
“Heat pack?” he suggested.
“Sounds good.” I tried to smile.
“Great. I’ll be right back.” He left the room and I wriggled my shoulders, trying to dig myself a comfortable spot, the shushing of my cotton pillowcases loud in my ears. What I really wanted to do was lock the door and snuggle into a nest of pillows and blankets to sleep off my pain. Not even my worst enemy deserved this. Although… I raised an eyebrow. Maybe Jared could do with a day or two.
Brody returned and handed me a heat pack.
“Thanks. Hey, how long ago did Jonas leave?” I owed him big. And his girlfriend. She hadn’t even met me before and they’d both been kinder to me than even my own family had.
“A few hours. There was nothing more he or Jenny could do. But he said not to worry. He’ll let Ewin know what’s going on with you.” Brody finished his sentence with a meaningful stare, and I turned away as shame warmed my cheeks.
Jonas planned to tell Ewin. Well, of course he’d tell him—Ewin was my boss, and I didn’t want him thinking I was just skipping work. Except, Ewin was also still the object of my desire, no matter what lie I’d actually told him in the kitchen, and I didn’t really want him to know I was in the middle of a heat cycle.
I burrowed further beneath my blankets and closed my eyes. If I could just fall back to sleep, I wouldn’t even need to think about it.
When I woke up, Brody was snuggled in the corner of a room, looking distinctly like a burrito, all wrapped up in a sleeping bag. I checked each of my symptoms. Headache, gone. Stomach cramps, gone. Raging desire, gone. Check, check, check. I smiled and swept my hair from my forehead. Even the sweatiness had gone.
But I was kind of glad for the flu symptoms. Maybe they were all that had stopped me pouncing on the nearest alpha’s penis. I glanced at Brody again. Shit, he probably wouldn’t have liked that much, and it would have stretched the definition of our friendship just a little.
I swung my legs out of bed and tested standing, thankful when I could rise to my full height without a weight pressing on my brain. Actual progress. I crept from the bedroom to use the bathroom on my own—another win for the day—before so much activity exhausted me, and I returned to bed.
The second time I woke, Brody’s sleeping bag was empty and clattering
sounds came from kitchen. A pit formed in my stomach. I didn’t even know Brody knew where my kitchen was, let alone what I used it for. It didn’t seem like the best of matches. Still, as long as he didn’t create a fire or a flood, I probably didn’t have too much to worry about.
“Knock, knock.” Brody stood at my bedroom door, a tray in his hands.
Maybe I had something to worry about after all. “I’m not very hungry, Bro.” Especially not for anything Brody thought he’d cooked.
“I can’t leave until I know you’re eating.” He smiled his most lecherous grin, the one he only did when he was teasing me about being an omega. “Or are you just trying to keep me around, sweet cheeks?” He made kissy faces then he set the tray on my lap. “It’s only soup. Even I can work a can opener and a microwave.”
“Maybe just a little.” I picked up the spoon. “And are you sure your talents aren’t wasted as a vet? I bet no one appreciates your soup like I do, nurse.”
He chuckled. “Okay, if your crappy jokes are back, then I know you’re feeling better.”
I laughed and took another spoonful of soup. How many days since I’d eaten? It felt like at least three weeks. Maybe a couple of months. Suddenly, I couldn’t eat fast enough. But then I couldn’t keep my eyes open, either.
I swallowed the last mouthful, shoved the tray away, and closed my eyes to sleep, grateful for my friend…even if he did have a shit-eating grin and he could burn soup.
I woke up on the third morning rejuvenated. Well, not really, but nothing hurt anymore. Almost like I’d never had the flu or gone into heat in the first place. I almost sprang out of bed, ready to face the day, but my stomach cramped, and I sagged back onto my bed. Maybe I wasn’t quite a superhero yet. Some of the aches and pains were still there and a touch of nausea still colored my appetite, but I felt pretty good.
Good enough to kick Brody out, anyway.
“Hey, Brody!” I yelled.
“What? What is it?” He skidded past my bedroom door before recovering himself and stepping through the door. “Are you feeling okay?”
