The Omega's Secret Pregnancy (Men of Meadowfall Book 1)

by Anna Wineheart

  The silver doorknob to his room turns easily. He slips into the shadowy suite, flipping the light switch. The bed is made, and the room smells very slightly musty, as though no one has visited in months. Felix glances longingly at the bed, and heads instead for the row of framed paintings in the corner, next to a solid oak desk.

  You’re okay with this? Kade had asked a decade ago. Leaving your dad’s place to live with me? I can’t... provide all of that.

  I don’t care about furniture, Felix had said. I care about you.

  Felix touches the curve of his abdomen through his sweater. “And look where that has gotten us,” he murmurs. “It shouldn’t have happened.”

  There had been no space in their tiny apartment for all his previous work. Felix pulls the thick sheet of cotton off the paintings, flipping through them: a whale surfacing in a harbor, a crooked log cabin tucked into a snowy pine forest, a shadowy boat shop with giant propellers on the floor.

  “Look at these,” Felix murmurs at his belly. He imagines a baby girl, with Kade’s dark hair and eyes, laughing as she waves a paintbrush around. “I hope that when you grow up, you’ll love to paint, too.”

  He finds the painting of the bay right at the end, tucked into the awning of larger frames. Felix lifts it out carefully, studying the crooked planks of the boardwalk, the hazy people behind the restaurant window, the sea sparkling beyond the railings. He slips his phone out of his pocket, snaps a picture of it, and hesitates.

  Kade had typed his number into the contacts list. Felix had never sent him a message or called, but... he wants to hear Kade’s voice, suddenly.

  He scrolls down the list, to where Kade had typed his name as “Kade Brentwood”, as though Felix will label anyone else as just “Kade”. Felix bites his lip. Before he second-guesses himself, he hits the call button.

  The dial tone rings four times, and Kade answers. “Hey.” His voice sounds tinny over the phone, and it steals Felix’s breath, just hearing him again. “Felix?”

  Felix’s heart thuds. He hadn’t realized that Kade has his number. He had to have seen it when they gave postcards out at the lemonade stand, but it isn’t as though he can’t look it up on the website. And so Felix can’t pretend that he’s calling the wrong number, or that this is a prank call. “I found the painting,” he blurts. “I just wondered if you want a picture of it first.”

  “Sure. Thanks,” Kade says. Felix wishes he would talk more, so he can close his eyes and listen to Kade’s voice. “I’ll pay for it.”

  “No, no. It’s fine. I’ll just give it to you.” Because Kade never took the money from the lemonade stand like he said he would. Felix has tried shoving the bills in his pockets during the times he visits. And he always finds them tucked under his pillow, or in his kitchen cabinets, or somewhere he wouldn’t look until after Kade leaves.

  “Whatever you want. That painting’s worth money, you know.”

  And I want you to be happy. That’s worth more than money. Felix sighs. “I guess we’ll see. I can drop it at your place or something, if you text me your address.”

  “Okay.”

  They fall silent. Felix cradles the phone against his ear, thinking about Kade on the other end of the line, holding the phone to his ear. Kade just listening, waiting for him to speak. He swallows, his chest aching. Kade has to be in his kitchen, or on his couch, the TV turned to mute.

  “What are you doing now?” Felix asks, and regrets it immediately. It’s not as though they’re dating or anything.

  “Watching the motor-cross races,” Kade says. “You?”

  Felix licks his lips, looking at the paintings. “At my dad’s place. I thought I might find the painting here.”

  Kade mulls over his words. “Want me to pick you up?”

  “No, no. It’s fine,” Felix says, because he shouldn’t. He’ll be leaving Meadowfall, and he doesn’t need to fall in love with this man again. “I’m sorry—I have to go. It’s getting late. I still have to get out without bumping into my dad.”

  “Okay. Call if you need anything,” Kade says.

  Felix glances at the door.“Will do. Thank you.”

  He hits the end call button so he doesn’t linger on Kade’s voice, shoving the phone back into his pocket. He has to leave. This place doesn’t feel like home, and Felix wishes he could just teleport outside, but he can’t.

  Painting in hand, he shuts off the lights and cracks the door open. He makes it down three corridors, wooden frame bumping into his thigh, before a lock clicks. “Felix?”

  He freezes, heart kicking against his ribs. Slowly, Felix pastes a smile on his face and turns. “Good evening, Father. I didn’t expect to meet you.”

  Alastor Henry stands, tall and broad-shouldered, one hand on the doorknob of his study. This late at night, he’s dressed in a starched shirt and a burgundy robe. Felix feels like a school kid in his shirt and jeans. With a frown, his father sniffs the air. “Where’s your scent? You smell like that... Brentwood son, was it?”

  Felix swallows. “Kade, yes.”

  His father frowns. Kade’s family ranks nowhere near the Henry line, even if Alastor’s two sons are both omegas. Alastor’s status as an alpha mayor far overshadows Kade’s, and for that reason, Felix’s father has never liked Kade. Neither you nor that Brentwood boy are competent enough to inherit the Henry line, Alastor said once. Taylor is far better suited to it.

  “Why are you suppressing your scent?” his father asks, looking down his nose at him.

  Felix sighs, holding his arm at his side, even though he wants to touch his belly. The bonding mark at his wrist prickles. “I smell like an alpha. Isn’t that enough?”

  Alastor’s lips thin. Felix wishes he were far away from Meadowfall. He shouldn’t have turned to his father for help. “He’s not good enough for you.”

  Felix almost laughs at that. Really? “His father has passed away. You know that, don’t you?”

  Alastor dips his chin. “I may have heard about it.”

  “You forced them into bankruptcy,” Felix says, heat building in his chest. He’s had two months to think about this, since that afternoon at the lemonade stand, and he’s been regretting his decisions ever since. He—and his father—had caused Kade’s dad to die. His voice wavers. “Mr. Brentwood had to return to work, and it killed him. I can’t believe you asked for my help.”

  Because it was his father who had said, I’m planning to rebrand some estates. Could you do some artist’s impressions for higher-end housing?

  Felix had pored over those impressions for days, and his father had taken those drawings and marketed them to a wealthier crowd. Then, he had raised the rents for the existing community, sinking them into debt. Then the new tenants had started moving in, and Felix only realized then which community his father had been referring to. And Kade never found out who caused it, because the Henry line was never linked to the rental corporation.

  “I’m sorry to hear about their loss,” his father says, his face pulling into a solemn mask, like the countless times he’s had to listen to the people’s woes.

  “You’re not sorry at all,” Felix mutters, his eyes burning. “You only care about money.”

  His father meets his gaze. Felix reads flinty disapproval, even now. “Do I?”

  “I’m sorry my choices disappoint you,” Felix says. The words clog up his throat. “I was just here to retrieve a painting.”

  “I see.” His father’s gaze flickers to the frame. “I hope you’ve been doing better in Meadowfall.”

  Barely. “I have, thank you. It’s getting late. I hope you’ll have a pleasant day tomorrow,” Felix says, nodding. His skin itches. “Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight,” his father says. “I’ll see you again.”

  Felix walks stiffly to the end of the corridor. The moment he rounds the corner, he runs, his eyes stinging. He hates his father. Hates what he’s done, hates himself for starting it all. He dashes along the carpets, feet thumping down the stairs, across
the marble-lined foyer. Then he pushes out of the front door, and the night air is chilly against his skin.

  Felix stumbles down the driveway, catching himself before he falls. His fingertips press white into the glass of the painting, and all he thinks about is Kade, Kade protecting him, Kade’s warm arms curving around him and their child. Don’t wanna knock you up, Kade had said.

  I miss you, Felix thinks, but he doesn’t have Kade to return home to, either.

  15

  Kade

  Kade sets the third bolt down on the concrete garage floor, glancing at the wall clock. 1:10PM. Felix still isn’t here yet. He glances at the phone on the nearby stool, expecting it to buzz. Instead, it stays mutinously silent. With a sigh, he hooks his wrench around the fourth bolt on the air filter, loosening it.

  He’s heard nothing from Felix in the past two days.

  The last time he did, Felix had been at his dad’s place. He’d sent a snapshot of the bay painting the day after, then fallen silent. Kade assumes he isn’t interested, since their communications so far have all taken place at the gas station, or at Felix’s place.

  The old air filter unhooks easily from the bike. He wipes the pipes down with a blackened rag, eyeing the new circular filter next to him, complete with chrome trim and gleaming black paint. It matches the rest of the bike, all sleek and streamlined, and yet... Kade sighs, setting his wrench down.

  He had felt a twinge of guilt when he splurged on a hundred-dollar filter. But he doesn’t have much to pay for—he’s just sharing a house with his mom right now, with no plans to settle into his own home. It would be different if he had a husband, or a family to consider.

  Besides, Felix had said Kade wasn’t good enough, five years ago. Should’ve known that alpha rankings were important to you, too.

  Down the road, the neighbor’s kids yell over basketball, and further away, a drill whines. Sunlight glints off his mom’s car in the driveway. It’s a beautiful cornflower blue, he imagines Felix saying.

  Sweat trickles down his neck. With an exhale, he tugs his shirt off, tossing it over his phone. Doesn’t look like you’re coming today, Kade thinks, glancing down at the ring resting against his chest. Doesn’t look like I’ll ever have a use for the ring, either.

  His throat aches with loss, so he pushes that thought aside, installing the new filter. Felix has been turning down his offers of a ride—going home from work, getting to places—and Kade misses having his omega’s arms around his waist, Felix’s warmth seeping through his clothes as he leans in, his fingers smoothing down Kade’s abs.

  Since the lemonade stand, they’ve gotten a little closer. They’ve made plans—selling cookies door-to-door, painting at crowded malls, looking at the website... except peering at the laptop is really an excuse to slide his hand down Felix’s pants. Felix arches into his palm every time.

  Kade swallows, pushing those thoughts aside. He’s in the middle of installing his new filter, and the garage doors are wide open, facing the street. Not the best time to start jerking off.

  So he wipes his hands on a clean rag, then fastens the filter on with the first bolt, then the second, leaving them halfway tight for further adjustments. A car zooms by outside, and Kade hums to himself, one of the older songs he’d listened to in the tree house with Felix, years back, on a beat-up radio that they’d taken from his parents’ kitchen.

  He almost misses the step of thin legs on the other side of the bike.

  “Kade?” Felix says

  Kade looks up, his chain glinting in the reflected sunlight from the driveway. His stomach drops.

  Shit. Kade ducks his head, closing his fist around the ring. Felix isn’t supposed to see that. He tugs the chain up over his head, shaking it from his hair, and shoves it into his back pocket. His jeans are smeared with bike grease; another few fingerprints aren’t going to matter. Better that than reminding Felix of that failed proposal. “Hey.”

  “I brought the painting,” Felix says, stepping into the garage, sunlight at his back. Kade squints up at him. “Sorry I’m late. Taylor was over, and we were distracted talking about the news.”

  “That’s fine,” Kade says, heart thumping. Felix has always been close to his brother, and Taylor’s always out of town. Kade knows—he’d tried calling Felix’s brother five years ago, when Felix had left. Taylor never returned his calls.

  Felix catches him squinting, stepping around to his other side, into the shadows. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to bother you.”

  But his gaze wanders down Kade’s sweaty chest, to his crossed legs, and then away, to the bike. Now that he isn’t in direct sunlight, Kade sees the loose black shirt hanging off his shoulders, the skinny jeans wrapped around his legs. Even if Kade had to wait days to see him, it’s worth it, just like it was worth waiting five years for his omega to return.

  “Thanks for bringing the painting,” Kade says. “I could’ve just ridden over for it.”

  Felix shrugs. His gaze wanders around the garage, though, hovering on the tools and cardboard boxes lying around. “I didn’t want to bother you,” he says. But he’s still looking over the place, his face pinched, as though he’s trying to make a decision about the garage. “Nice house.”

  Kade glances at the scar on Felix’s wrist. Still the one bite. He breathes in deeply, catching faint lavender and a hint of musky sweat. He wants to bury his face in Felix’s shoulder, in his chest, down between his legs. He clears his throat. Felix didn’t drop by for sex.

  “It’s not bad,” Kade says. “I split the place with my mom.”

  “Oh! She’s here too?” Felix looks toward the white door leading into the house, as though expecting her to step in. “I didn’t think... you would be living with her.”

  Kade shrugs. Without Felix, he’d needed someone else to protect. So he’d returned to his mom when his dad died, looking out for her when he could. “She needed company.”

  “I should say hi,” Felix says, biting his lip. He hugs the painting to himself. “Do you think she’ll... want to see me?”

  Kade raises an eyebrow. Felix knows Kade’s mom loves him. She’s made him cookies, and he’s sat at their dinner table countless times. “Sure, why not?”

  And Felix’s tentative look droops. Does he think she’ll turn him away?

  Kade frowns. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” Felix sucks in a deep breath, then blows it out. Like he’s hiding something.

  Kade curls his fingers against Felix’s calf. “You’re lying.”

  Felix goes stone-still then, green eyes darting to Kade’s. Kade feels his skin prickle. “I’m not lying,” Felix says.

  Kade sighs. “You know I can read you, right?”

  Felix’s knuckles whiten over the picture frame.

  Kade nods to the side. “Put that down. Don’t want you dropping it.”

  Felix sets the painting carefully onto the nearby stool. Kade catches his hand, pulling him over so his shoes bump into Kade’s foot.

  “Sit,” Kade says. Felix tenses. For a moment, he thinks Felix will turn and leave, now that he’s left his painting with Kade like he asked.

  But Felix’s fingers tighten around his hand. “On you?”

  “Wherever. On the floor or the bike if you rather do that.”

  His omega hesitates, then turns his back to the driveway, crouching so his ass sinks lightly down against Kade’s thigh. His elbow bumps into Kade’s chest, and he settles, a familiar weight. Their faces are less than a foot apart, and Kade picks out the darker flecks of forest green in Felix’s eyes, the taper of his eyelashes. Felix squirms. “Like that? I’m not too heavy, am I?”

  “Hell no, you’re not.” Kade slips an arm around him. Felix shifts, his ass grinding into Kade’s thigh, and a flare of heat shoots through Kade’s gut. He wants to touch between Felix’s legs, but they have things to discuss first. Like what Felix is lying about. So he leans in, nipping on Felix’s earlobe. “Tell me what you’re hiding.”

  Felix’s ch
eeks flush a dark scarlet. “I told you, nothing.”

  “I’ve known you since we were ten, Felix. Not gonna work.” Kade noses down his jaw, breathing him into his lungs.

  “I should go,” Felix whispers. But Kade rubs his thumb over Felix’s palm. Felix swallows loudly. “Kade—”

  “Tell me,” Kade says, kissing the corner of his mouth. It feels like he’s showing Felix too much of how he feels. “I’ve kept your secrets.”

  “This isn’t...”

  Kade releases his hand, dragging his palm up Felix’s inner thigh, to his groin. Felix’s jeans bulge with his arousal. A light musk rolls off his skin, and he moans softly, spreading his legs when Kade cups his cock through his pants. “C’mon,” Kade murmurs. “I won’t tell.”

  “I can’t—” But Felix bites his lip, tongue flicking out to wet it, and heat surges down to Kade’s groin, makes him want to roll his omega beneath him, pin him and fuck him and make him his.

  “You looked like you were scared of my mom,” Kade says, catching Felix’s earlobe between his teeth. He reaches further down, pressing behind Felix’s balls. Felix’s breath hitches, his jeans growing the slightest bit damp. Kade’s pants tighten.

  “Please don’t ask,” Felix gasps, his fingers digging into Kade’s knee and hip for leverage. He pushes up into Kade’s palm. “It really has nothing to do with you.”

  Kade stills. Felix is still keeping a secret from him. But if he refuses to share it, Kade won’t force him to. “No one’s going to get hurt, right?”

  “No one, I promise,” Felix says, his pupils blown. Kade relaxes, tugging his loose shirt up. Felix hisses, grabbing his wrist, pushing it back down against his cock. It grinds warm and solid through rough fabric, and Kade relaxes, lets Felix guide his touch, because all he really wants is Felix needing him.

  And Felix needs him like this, when he tugs Felix’s jeans open in the shadows of his body, and his cock juts out before them, a smear of precum at its tip. From the street, all anyone can see is Felix’s back, not Kade wiping his hand on his jeans, grasping Felix’s cock and stroking him. Felix’s breath shudders out of his mouth.