“Okay.” Kade looks through the cabinet for a plate.
Felix watches him, his pulse pattering at having his alpha just three feet away. Over the past two weeks, Kade has visited the gas station four times, but he hasn’t tried to kiss Felix again, hasn’t been hard in the store.
Even though Felix knows it’s a good thing, it makes him uneasy. He hadn’t meant to reject Kade so suddenly the last time. He’d remembered the pregnancy while he touched Kade’s knot, and his guilt had burned.
When Kade crosses over to the stove, Felix steps back. His scent is sharp and woodsy: a hint of sex, a hint of Kade. His bondmate’s shoulders are broad, tapering down to his waist, and from the back, Felix admires the way his jeans cling to his ass, the way his thighs stretch his pants. He wants to crawl onto Kade, rub against him, and...
He snaps his gaze away when Kade turns, but Kade’s eyes anchor on his face. Felix blushes, turning away to grab his own plate.
When he joins Kade at the table with steaming mugs of coffee, Kade smiles. “It’s pretty good,” he says. “Better than the stuff I make.”
Felix shrugs, his breath catching. “They’re simple things. Just eggs and bacon. It’s not like I’m making cream of mushroom soup.”
Kade’s knee bumps into his when he sits. Felix swallows. “I still think you cook well. How are the website graphics going?”
“I have them on the laptop,” Felix says. “I just need to know the dimensions to resize them.”
Kade nods. He opens the laptop, glancing at the password he’d written down at the corner of the screen. “Did you have any problems using this?”
Felix shakes his head. Most of his issues had been figuring out the tools he needed, but he’d done that quickly. All the same, it’s nice of Kade to ask, nice of him to care. “No, I did okay. It wasn’t too bad.”
“Okay.”
They eat in silence, Kade’s gaze flickering over to him, Felix anchoring his eyes on his food. They’re almost done with breakfast when Kade says, “I was looking through the hosting site details. You’re currently using the lowest pricing option, but that won’t give you the best graphics. You’d want to host the larger image files so people can zoom in on the details.”
Felix sighs, wincing. Between rent and setting aside money for moving, and the baby, he hasn’t got much left. “How much is that going to be?”
“Looks like fifty bucks a year. It’s not too bad.” But Kade sees his wince and reaches for his wallet. “It’s not that much.”
“No, I’ll pay for it,” Felix says, rubbing his stomach. It roils slightly, as though he might be falling sick. “Do they take bank transfers?”
“Just credit cards, it looks like.” Kade hesitates, glancing at the screen. “Pay me back some other time.”
“I can’t—”
Felix’s gut heaves, and he swears, clapping a hand over his mouth. He stumbles out of the kitchen, swallowing desperately to delay the inevitable, and his knees barely hit the bathroom floor before his stomach empties itself into the toilet.
His eyes water. He clings onto the cool, glazed ceramic, the sour scent winding up his nose, making him retch further.
Felix barely registers the warm presence next to him, a large hand on his back, fingers smoothing across his forehead. He spits to get rid of the taste in his mouth, blinking his tears back. He hadn’t thought this would happen so soon. It’s been barely a month.
“You need to rest,” Kade says next to him, stroking down his back. He stands, and while Felix clutches the toilet, waiting for the rest of his nausea to pass, Kade fills a mug with water, handing it over.
Felix rinses out his mouth, before gulping down water to ease the sting in his throat. “Ugh.”
“How’re you feeling?” Kade asks, crouching next to him. He rubs down Felix’s neck, brushing off the sweat prickling there. “Need to see the doctor?”
Heat rushes up Felix’s cheeks; he hadn’t even thought about seeing a doctor. It’s not like I need one to tell me I’m pregnant. “No, I’ll be fine.”
“I thought you were doing okay,” Kade says, scrutinizing him. He refills Felix’s mug. “You were eating and all that.”
Felix shrugs. He sucks in deep breaths of air, flushes the toilet, and pushes himself to his feet. Kade stands with him, slipping a warm hand around his elbow to provide support.
His chest tightens. Kade shouldn’t be doing this. Felix will leave with their child, and Kade won’t know it even exists. In fact, Kade should still remember how Felix had rejected him and turn away. Why are you still here? Felix wants to ask. He swallows the question instead. “I think I’ll be fine after this.”
But Kade presses the back of his hand to Felix’s forehead, a cool, firm touch. “You’re not running a fever.”
Of course I’m not. Felix blushes anyway, his heart thudding. He looks at Kade through the bathroom mirror, at his drawn eyebrows, his full lips. Will the baby look like you? I hope it does. He doesn’t notice Kade’s hand until it touches his cheek, Kade’s thumb brushing callused and warm along his lower lip. Felix sucks in a sharp breath.
“C’mon, you should sit down,” Kade murmurs, setting his hand on the small of Felix’s back. Just like when they’d been together. Felix’s breath snags in his throat.
He follows Kade out of the bathroom, and the air in the hallway feels light and fresh in his nose.
You sat with me through the vomit stench, Felix thinks, his throat itchy. He traces the line of Kade’s jaw with his eyes, leaning closer for warmth. In the kitchen, the air smells like bacon and eggs again, and the lingering scent of pine and cedar. His chest tightens.
Kade looks into the fridge. “Want something else to drink? Milk?”
“That’ll be good,” Felix says, looking at their cold cups of coffee, the plates of half-eaten food. “Sorry about breakfast.”
Kade clicks his tongue. “Doesn’t matter.” He empties Felix’s coffee in the sink, rinses the mug, and fills it half-full with milk. “That enough?”
“It’s plenty. Thank you.” Their fingers brush when Kade hands the mug over. Felix cradles it close, sipping.
When Kade settles back into the chair, he taps on the laptop touchpad so the screen lights up again. “Forgot about this,” he says. “I’ll pay for the hosting.”
Felix winces. They don’t even know if the paintings will sell, and whether they’ll break even on the cost of the website. “I’ll pay you back,” he says. “When I get my next paycheck.”
Kade huffs. He signs into the domain hosting site, though, and Felix watches as he taps his credit card details into the payment form. After a minute, the payment goes through. Kade clicks into the site options.
Felix rubs his fingertips against the condensation on his mug, looking down at his abdomen. All he sees is the lumpy white sweater—no visible sign of a child, no belly bump, nothing. Kade will hate him so much when he finds out.
“Why are you doing this?” Felix blurts. Immediately after, he wishes he could snatch his words back. He doesn’t want to hear how Kade’s in this to hurt him somehow. Felix deserves to be beaten up for what he’s done.
Kade’s eyes flicker to meet his. For a long moment, he rubs the silvery chain around his neck. Then he exhales, looking away. “Just because I can, I guess.”
It doesn’t explain anything. Felix bites his lip. Kade’s throat works, and Felix picks at the hem of his sweater, squirming in the silence. He needs money, needs another job to cover all his expenses. The cash he borrowed from Taylor is dwindling—he has about three hundred dollars left.
“I should go,” Kade says, looking at the kitchen window. “Most of the site’s done. Just need to upload the graphics, and then focus on site traffic.”
“Oh.” But he doesn’t want Kade to leave, when his limbs still hang weakly from the morning sickness. “I—I was... wondering if you want to stay? Just for a little while longer?”
Kade doesn’t answer immediately. He purses his lips, as thou
gh torn between his decisions. Finally, he takes a deep breath and says, “Yeah, okay. I’ll stay.”
10
Felix
“I just had an idea,” Felix says in the next heartbeat, twisting his fingers together. Kade lingers in his seat, still listening, so he says, “We could sell lemonade on the street corner.”
Kade stares. “Lemonade?”
“It’s going to be hot out, isn’t it?” Felix checks his phone, brightening at the 90-degree weather on the forecast. It’s the beginning of May, and people will be trawling through the neighborhood on a Saturday morning, looking for garage sales. “Come on, if we hurry, we’ll be able to make some money off the traffic.”
“Is this for your website?” Kade asks, incredulous. “Selling lemonade is for kids.”
“Are you going to help, or not?”
Kade sighs, standing. “Okay, fine.”
Felix smiles a little. Kade has always agreed to his ideas, even if they were insane: painting gigantic swirls on Kade’s bedroom wall, building a three-story tree house in his backyard, cooking the grandest dinner for Kade’s parents. They’d had fun, in the end—even Kade can’t deny that. So Felix slides his chair back, thinking about the materials they’ll need.
“No.” Kade sets a hand on his shoulder, pushing him back into the cushioned seat. “You just puked. At least eat something first.”
Why do you care so much? Felix covers his hot cheeks with his hands, watching from the corner of his eye as Kade opens the cupboards.
“You have enough sugar for three cups of lemonade,” Kade says. “No lemons. And no plastic cups.”
Felix breathes out, telling his heart to stop beating so fast. It’s not as though Kade will visit him again. “I guess we’ll need to buy them.”
“It’s almost 11 AM,” Kade says, glancing at the wall clock. “Think anyone’s gonna want lemonade?”
“If we get back before noon, yes.”
“Do you even have any signboards for a stand?” Kade shuts the cupboards, looking over at Felix’s plate. “You haven’t been eating.” He grabs the pan from the stove, shoving an egg and a slice of bacon down in front of him. “Eat.”
“Yes, sir,” Felix says, grinning. The roiling in his stomach has mostly faded by now, and it’s nice, Kade serving him breakfast.
Kade rolls his eyes. While Felix stuffs the food into his mouth, Kade pulls his phone out, tapping on the screen while he checks the cupboards. Felix realizes he’s making a list, and he wants to hug this man, suddenly. Wants to share an entire life with him.
He looks down at his abdomen and bites his lip.
Five minutes later, Kade settles back down in his chair, placing his phone between them. “I’ve added up the stuff we need for a stand,” he says. “We’ll make a batch first, and if there’s not enough, we’ll make more.”
“Sounds good.” Felix scans the list: 10 lemons, 1 lb sugar, 40 cups, 40 straws, 4 signboards.
“You coming with me to the store?” Kade stops next to him, his heat radiating through the air between them.
Felix nods, scooping the last of the egg into his mouth. He isn’t nauseous anymore. Maybe the morning sickness won’t be so bad if he learns to anticipate it. “Are we taking the bike?”
“Walk if you want. I’m taking the bike,” Kade says. Felix elbows him. “Hey, you asked.”
Felix grins. He suppresses the urge to hug Kade, following him out of the house. In the driveway, Kade hands over the spare helmet. Felix pulls it on. This is starting to feel familiar again—buckling his helmet alongside his alpha, swinging his leg over the seat behind him.
When Kade turns the key, the bike roars to life, vibrating beneath them like a trembling beast. Their thighs bump, and Felix realizes that it isn’t that big a deal now, when they’ve slept together twice, and Kade has been ferrying him between places. He swallows, thinking about the day he has to leave. He shoves that thought aside.
“Ready?” Kade asks over the engine’s growl.
“Yeah.” And Felix hesitates before slipping his arms around Kade’s waist. He’ll only be in Meadowfall for a couple of months. And Kade won’t mind, will he, if he stayed with Felix through the morning sickness?
Kade turns at the contact, as though surprised, but his helmet hides his eyes. Felix edges closer, holds his breath, and hugs him a little tighter. Against his forearms, Kade’s abs are warm and solid. Felix resists the urge to trail his fingers over them. Instead, he looks over Kade’s shoulder, watching as he wheels them out of the driveway.
With a roar, they take off down the street, merging easily into the mid-morning traffic. The wind sweeps Kade’s pinewood scent into Felix’s helmet, and they ride along the roads, turning corner after corner until Kade pulls them into the department store’s parking lot.
Inside the store, they pass glass cases of jewelry, sections of wicker chairs. Felix’s heart thumps when they walk by the baby clothes. It takes all his willpower not to turn for a second look, when Kade watches him sideways. Felix clenches his fists, ignoring little pastel-colored dresses and tiny shoes, and his mind whispers How much do the jumpers cost? Which shirt is the cutest?
He releases his breath when they step into the kitchen utensils section. The mixing bowls gleam at him, cool and unsympathetic. Felix lowers his gaze. Kade hadn’t wanted children, even before they broke up.
“Wanna grab the lemons? I’ll get the sugar,” Kade says, studying him.
Felix nods. He picks the lemons out, and when Kade returns with a packet of cane sugar, they head to the disposable goods aisle, where pastel-colored plates sit with plain white ones. Felix thinks about children’s birthday parties, and how a child will fit in with other school kids if he has only one father. He glances down at his belly. You’ll forgive me for that, won’t you?
At the register, loaded up with placards and lemonade ingredients, Felix reaches for his wallet. Kade has his card out before Felix even blinks. “That’s not fair,” Felix says
Kade’s gaze slides over to him. “I’ll take the profits of whatever we make today. Sounds fair?”
It sounds like a decent deal, if a risky one. They have no idea how a lemonade stand will do. Kade could be losing his investment, and it would be Felix’s fault. “Fine, I suppose.”
Pulling his hand away from his wallet feels like defeat, so Felix makes a decision—a second plan he can rely on, if they don’t earn anything off the lemonade. This decision he tucks away in his chest, hoarding it like a secret.
Back home, Kade mixes up the first batch of lemonade—heating water in the microwave, dissolving sugar. Felix paints thick black gouache onto the placards: Lemonade: $1. Get yours now!
He wants to say, This would work better if I have a huge baby bump. People would stop by to chat and buy drinks, but he swallows that, too. Instead, Felix cuts the larger placards into two, drawing arrows under the words “Lemonade for sale”.
At the kitchen counter, Kade squeezes the lemon halves onto a glass juicer. Light glints off the trickling juice, and Kade’s biceps bulge, stretching the sleeves of his shirt. Felix stares. He can’t help it, when his alpha is more handsome than anyone else. Kade glances up, meeting his eyes.
Felix gulps. “I finished the signs,” he says. “Give me a couple minutes, and I’ll get the things for the stand.”
Kade’s still watching him as he leaves the kitchen. Felix hurries through the house, his pulse thudding in his ears. He finds two rickety folding chairs and a slim rectangular table, hefting them to the front door. Then, he gathers up an easel, some brushes, and his watercolors.
It’s almost noon by the time they’re ready to head out. Kade emerges from the kitchen with a jug of lemonade and a box of ice cubes. “Ready to go?”
“I am.”
Kade stacks the chairs, placards, and easel onto the table. Felix holds the lemonade and ice cubes, cups and straws tucked into the painting supplies bag. Together, they make their way to a sidewalk corner one block down from a busy str
eet. While Felix sets up the lemonade stand with the biggest, most colorful poster, Kade fastens the smaller signboards a block away, so passers-by would notice them and wander over.
The first few sales happen slowly: people who happen to drive by, and neighbors strolling along with their dogs. While they wait, Felix prepares his easel.
“Didn’t think you were going to paint,” Kade says, leaning back in his chair.
Felix scuffs the grassy boulevard under his shoe. “Figured I’d do something while we wait. Or, you know, draw some attention to my paintings. I work better this way.”
Kade falls silent. Felix feels the light touch of his gaze as he sketches the street with a pencil, light lines that he’ll erase later. He daubs water onto cyan paint, then fills the sky in with broad strokes of his brush. The sidewalk gets an ivory coat, the asphalt a gunmetal gray.
Through it all, Kade watches him. This feels familiar, too, Kade’s unassuming attention on him as he works in silence. Felix almost wonders if he should speak, but Kade doesn’t. So he keeps his mouth shut, and paints.
After a while, Kade says, “You got better with painting.”
A lump rises in Felix’s throat. He swallows and touches his brush tip to paper, watching as grass-green pigments bloom through white fiber. “Really?”
“Yeah. More detail. Or maybe you changed your style.” Kade shrugs, straightening the stacks of cups on the table. His cheeks darken, though, and Felix can’t look away.
Their next customer is a short girl with ponytails, six years old, reaching out with a handful of coins. Kade nods, pulling a blue plastic cup from a stack, before filling it with lemonade. While she waits, her mother wanders over to Felix, a smile on her face. “That’s beautiful,” she says. “You replicate the scenery so well.”
Felix beams, handing her a postcard with his name and number on it. “Thanks! I do landscapes and custom portraits, if you find that you ever need a gift.”
Mother and daughter thank them as they leave, both smelling like lilies, and the girl turns back to look at Felix’s painting.
The Omega's Secret Pregnancy (Men of Meadowfall Book 1) Page 8
