Omega Teacher’s Secret

by Anna Wineheart

  Olivier slipped the strings into a small bag, handing it over. “There you go. I rather envy Brad right now.”

  Ian blinked. Olivier envied Brad, instead of Ian? “How so?”

  “It must be nice, having someone buy things for you.” Olivier shrugged, smiling crookedly. “Especially for a hobby!”

  Olivier wandered over to a back room behind the counter, shutting the door. Ian glimpsed piles of wood discards on the floor, and strange wooden instruments on the table. He’d never seen anything like them, though.

  “I’m sure you’ll find someone,” Ian said. Thought about reaching over, just to pull Olivier into a hug.

  In some ways, Olivier felt like a younger version of himself. Kind of lonely, kind of lost.

  “Thanks,” Olivier answered. “Say hi to Brad for me. And also—congrats.”

  Olivier glanced at Ian’s belly, smiling faintly.

  Ian touched his abdomen, feeling the tiniest flutter of his baby kicking. “Thanks.”

  He headed out of the store, glimpsing Olivier through the glass storefront. Saw the omega pull out a sandwich from a paper bag.

  Ian realized he was hungry. He’d left the college as soon as he could, skipping lunch to drop by the music store. There wasn’t enough time in the day—he’d left work five minutes earlier than he should, and he would be late for his ultrasound appointment if he didn’t hurry.

  The sandwich, though... Ian thought about a dill pickle and ham sandwich, layered with egg and mayo. The tartness of the pickle, the smokiness of the ham, the smooth mayo and hard-boiled egg.

  There was no place in town he could think of that made a sandwich like that. It was cheaper to throw one together at home, anyway.

  Ian pulled out his phone, checking for messages. There was one from June.

  Harold was in the lab a few minutes ago. He was looking for you. I told him you were off for the day, but he didn’t seem happy. You took the day off, right?

  I thought I did. Ian frowned. Had he? There had been so many things going on, with Gwen’s recovery from the surgery, and Ian settling into Brad’s house, that he thought he had informed the department.

  What if he hadn’t?

  Ian bit his lip. He tapped on his phone, but the college website was down. Couldn’t log in to check. The website’s down. I can’t check if I did, Ian wrote to June. Please tell me if there’s anything urgent you need me for.

  June answered quickly. Will do. Take care.

  Ian flipped through the rest of his messages, disappointed that Brad hadn’t answered. Brad was probably still asleep. He’d gotten home late this morning after two hectic calls in a row, and he had barely remembered to shower before he fell into bed.

  He’d kissed Ian though, sleepily, and Ian’s heart had skipped.

  Ian couldn’t wait to get to the prenatal clinic. Maybe Brad might wake up in time to join him there. Ian couldn’t wait to see Brad’s smile again, breathe in Brad’s walnut scent.

  He sent Brad a quick text. I’ll be at the appointment soon. Afterward, can we get a pickle/ham/egg&mayo sandwich? I’m having a craving.

  Ian hit Send, and tucked the phone back into his pocket. Breathed in the quiet air of Meadowfall’s downtown—the shops here were quaint, all brick and mortar, and the April sunshine warmed his skin.

  When he crossed the street to his car, he found his mother walking down the sidewalk, pushing along a cart of groceries. She was getting old. Ian had forgotten the last time he’d spoken to her. Two years ago, probably. She still looked the same.

  Yvette McMillan was a sullen omega, her lips perpetually pulled down, her white hair tied back into a tight bun. She was shorter than Ian, thin, and her eyes were narrowed.

  Ian froze, dread filling his gut. Six yards away, she hadn’t seen him yet. He held the tiny bag from Olivier’s strings over his belly, knowing that if he darted, or tried to hide, she would look up.

  What do I do?

  He turned away. Wrapped his arm around his belly, wishing, for once, that he’d worn something baggier.

  “Ian? Is that you?”

  Ian’s heart clenched. He turned and found his mother pushing her cart over, her shrewd eyes analyzing him from head to toe. “Hi, Mom,” he croaked. He wished he were doing better with his life, so she wouldn’t look down on him. “How have you been?”

  Then her nostrils flared, and he knew what she smelled on him—Brad’s walnut scent, and the honey of his pregnancy.

  She looked at him, her lip curling. “You’re pregnant?”

  Ian held his breath, his skin growing too tight. “Yes.”

  “You’re almost fifty, aren’t you?” She frowned deeply. “I’m surprised you’re still capable of carrying a child. Will it have Down’s syndrome?”

  He swallowed, his heart sinking. He’d been trying not to think about that. “With any luck, no.”

  Yvette looked askance at him, waving him off. “You’re a child of ill luck, Ian. People are best off without you. Are you even wearing the same alpha’s marking? Or have you found another to leech from? I’m surprised an alpha even wanted to take you as their own.”

  Ian glanced around, his face burning when he found a couple of onlookers. He looked away from them, pretending he didn’t exist. He wanted to burrow into the ground.

  “I’m doing fine, Mom. You don’t have to worry about me.”

  “I wouldn’t waste my breath worrying about you.” She scoffed.

  Ian gulped, his heart heavy.

  Decades ago, Ian had looked up to his mother, wanting her approval, wanting to shine in her eyes. He’d tried his best. Skinned his knees trying to get onto the track team, burned his hands trying to make his own dinner.

  He’d never succeeded, though. She’d given birth to other children, and she’d used him as a bad example in front of Tony and Bill. Ian had grown up under the scorn of his siblings, and he’d never held on to his friends, when his mother would tell them the most humiliating things he’d done.

  Ian blew out a breath, turning away. She was his mother, and he should treat her with respect. He hadn’t the energy to deal with so much negativity, though.

  “It’s a wonder you even have an alpha at all,” she said. “They’re probably just waiting for a better omega to come around. No one likes defects, Ian.”

  With that, she turned away, pushing her cart down the street.

  Ian stared at the bag in his hands, feeling as though he were carrying worthless stones.

  He bit back his tears, trudging to his car. Left his phone on the passenger seat, making his way to the prenatal clinic.

  Deep down, he knew he shouldn’t take his mother’s words to heart. She had her own issues, and what she said shouldn’t have any impact on his life.

  But what if Ian really was a defect? What if Brad saw the truth, sooner or later? Brad would leave. Maybe he’d take Gwen with him. The court would grant Brad their child, because he was alpha.

  Ian swiped away his tears, driving to the prenatal clinic. He wanted to pull out his house keys, jab one into his thigh just so he could think about the pain, and nothing else. It was better than hearing those words over and over in his head: You’re a defect.

  Heart defects could be repaired. But if his person was rotten? How did you fix that?

  He parked outside the clinic, reaching into his glove box.

  Instead of a metal letter opener, Ian found Brad’s iPod, the one Brad had tucked into the cookie tin. Brad had wrapped the white earbud cord around the iPod, and the device gleamed at him, all sapphire-blue.

  Ian took it out of the glove box. Unrolled the earbuds, and pressed them into his ears.

  Five minutes. He could try that.

  Ian fiddled with the buttons until a song started to play. It was one he hadn’t heard before, all quick notes swooping down low, then soaring high. He closed his eyes, pressed his forehead to the steering wheel. Imagined Brad with his violin, his eyes closed, his body swaying.

  For a few precious mome
nts, Ian surrounded himself with Brad’s music, and all was well.

  23

  Brad

  It wasn’t so much a nightmare, as it was a dream.

  In his dream, Brad sat with his mother by the beach, on a lone bench at the bottom of a cliff. It was her favorite spot; they’d visited it for years.

  She held his hand and hummed, her auburn hair swaying in the breeze. She looked as though she was just over forty, her cheeks still smooth, her mouth curved in a smile.

  “I have an omega,” Brad said. He couldn’t remember why he needed to tell her that, only that he had to. “We have a daughter together. Her name’s Gwen. And we have a second baby on the way.”

  Mom’s eyes crinkled in delight. “Do you?”

  “Yeah.” Brad grinned, his spirits soaring. “His name is Ian. I love him.”

  She smiled wider. “What is he like?”

  “He’s beautiful,” Brad said. “He has these blue eyes, and when he smiles, he lights up the whole room.”

  Mom laughed. “The whole room, or your heart?”

  “Both. Probably my heart. I want you to meet him,” Brad said. “He was my professor in college.”

  “He sounds intelligent,” Mom said.

  “He is. And he raised Gwen really well, too. She’s amazing.” Brad grinned, looking around for Ian, but Ian was nowhere to be found on the beach. There was just him and his mom, and the sky was darkening. “I met him a long time ago, and then I found him again. He’s the best thing that ever happened in my life.”

  Mom pulled him into a hug, laughing. “That is incredible, Brad. I’m so happy for you.”

  “I want you to be there when I marry him,” Brad said. “Will you attend?”

  “Of course.” She kissed him on the cheek, smelling like plumeria. Brad breathed her in, something in his heart settling.

  Lightning flashed in the clouds. He leaned in close, holding her hand. She hummed again. It was the lullaby he remembered from his childhood, all soothing and warm.

  How should I propose? Brad was about to ask. He closed his eyes, and the words came out of his mouth in a mumble.

  When he opened his eyes, the beach was gone, the clouds were gone, and he was alone in his bedroom, the mattress next to him empty.

  Brad fumbled for his phone. Wanted to text his mom, ask her how he should propose to his omega.

  There was a message from Ian. Brad left it for now, scrolling through his contacts. Couldn’t find his mom. Why...?

  It hit him then, dull and crushing like a sledgehammer.

  Mom was dead.

  There was no way he could text her, and no way she could attend his wedding, or meet Ian at all.

  Brad stared at his phone, his heart stopping. He tried to come to terms with how real she’d been in his dream, how warm and solid she was next to him. She’d smiled, and she’d been happy about Ian, and now Brad couldn’t breathe through the suffocating emptiness in his chest.

  Mom was dead. She’d died in a fire years ago, and somehow, Brad’s dream self had forgotten that.

  Couldn’t believe he’d never see her again. Couldn’t believe he couldn’t show Ian to her, and Gwen, and the new baby. There were so many things Brad wanted to tell his mom, and he couldn’t, and that hurt a lot more than he thought it would.

  I thought I was over this.

  He pressed his palms to his eyes, breathing through the ache in his chest. Then he buried his face in his pillow. Cried a little. Wanted to claw out the pain in his chest.

  Brad thought about Ian, wanting to pull Ian close. He fumbled around for his phone, blinking hard.

  There was something in his mouth, uncomfortable. He stuck out his tongue, pulled off a longish white hair. Ian’s, probably. Ian had white hairs. He was almost fifty.

  Brad’s mom had been just shy of fifty when she’d died. That wasn’t so much older than Ian, was it? With the pregnancy, Ian’s life would be at risk, too.

  Brad gulped, staring blankly at Ian’s text. Thought about Ian being older, Ian probably leaving the world before him.

  That shook him, too. He thought about the grief of Ian’s passing, the inevitable time when they’d have to part ways.

  Brad swore, swinging his legs off the bed. He couldn’t stand to consider it. He shoved the idea away, trying not to remember his mom, too. If he stayed too long on those thoughts, he’d break down. Maybe go insane.

  It shook him, thinking about Ian dying.

  Brad strode into the bathroom, washing his face. He pissed, then looked at his phone again.

  I’ll be at the appointment soon. Afterward, can we get a pickle/ham/egg&mayo sandwich? I’m having a craving.

  The appointment.

  Brad held his breath, checking the time. He had ten minutes before it started.

  He yanked on some clothes. Realized he was too late to make Ian his sandwich. Shouldn’t have overslept.

  Brad cursed at himself, jogging out of the house. Hopped into his car and drove to the prenatal clinic, glancing at the clock the entire way. He’d probably get the sandwich ingredients on the way home. As disgusting as it sounded, Ian was craving it because he was pregnant. With their baby.

  That calmed Brad down somewhat. Ian was still alive, and he was here. And Brad could hold him and make sure Ian knew Brad loved him. That was important.

  He pulled into the clinic’s parking lot, right into the empty spot next to Ian’s car. Brad’s heart leaped when he found Ian in the driver’s seat, his head bowed.

  Then he realized that those white earbuds were lodged in Ian’s ears—Brad had never seen Ian hunched over in his car, save for the one time in the parking lot, when Ian had been crying.

  His chest squeezing, Brad cut the engine. Jogged around the hood of his car to Ian’s window, tapping on it. Ian didn’t hear him; he’d probably gotten the volume on too loud. Couldn’t blame him, though.

  “Ian,” Brad muttered, trying the door handle. It was locked. Maybe Ian would look up when the tracks changed, or something.

  Brad knocked on the window again. Leaned in close, pressing his nose to the glass. They were late for the appointment, and Brad wasn’t sure how to tell Ian he was here, short of rocking the entire car. Ian wouldn’t hear his phone.

  Just when Brad was about to heave at Ian’s car, Ian stirred, looking up. His eyes were red, his mouth a thin line, and he looked just as fragile as Brad had been feeling.

  Ian blinked, grimacing. So Brad knocked on the window. “C’mon, open up.”

  Ian opened the car door. Brad reached in and released his seatbelt. Then he hauled Ian out. Hugged Ian close, burying his nose in Ian’s hair. Ian smelled like rose and honey.

  “You okay?” Brad murmured, rubbing his back. He eased an earbud out of Ian’s ear, then repeated himself.

  Ian sucked in a shuddering breath, before nodding. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

  His voice was hoarse and his eyes were sad, but he was here. He was living and breathing in Brad’s arms, and Brad blew out a sigh of relief.

  “C’mon, let’s get you registered for the appointment,” Brad said. “I want to see our baby.”

  Ian cracked a smile. Brad pressed a kiss to Ian’s lips, breathing the air he exhaled. Felt intimate, just being close to his omega, touching him.

  “All right,” Ian said. “Sorry.”

  “Nah. You just gotta apologize to the doctor, because she’ll probably mind. I’m fine, though.”

  Ian’s eyes brightened further, and Brad slipped an arm around his omega’s waist, sweeping him into the prenatal clinic.

  Brad had never been to one of these. Past the receptionist’s desk, the walls were pastel-colored, painted with rainbows and clouds and unicorns. A lullaby tinkled overhead, and some couples sat in the waiting room.

  Ian registered with the receptionist. “It’s been a while since I was here,” he said. “I don’t know if you have me in your database...?”

  The receptionist beamed, handing him a clipboard with a form. “Why don�
��t you fill this in with your updated details, and I’ll get you all set up?”

  “Thank you.” Ian took the clipboard, following Brad to the seats.

  Brad slipped his arm around Ian’s shoulders, nuzzling his cheek. “You came here when you had Gwen?”

  “I did.”

  Ian filled in the form—some things Brad knew, and some he didn’t. Things like Ian’s blood type, and his next-of-kin.

  “You’re not putting me down as your next of kin?” Brad asked, eyeing the Tony McMillan name suspiciously. “I’m your alpha.”

  Ian blushed, glancing up at Brad. “I... wasn’t sure you wanted to be.”

  Brad rolled his eyes. He slid his fingers into Ian’s hair, nuzzling his cheek. “I’m here with you. How else do you want me to prove it?”

  Ian gave a lopsided smile. “I just wasn’t sure, I guess.”

  He struck out Tony’s name, and replaced it with Brad’s. Then he filled in the second parent’s information. Brad’s heart swelled when Ian wrote his name down. He’d never seen his name together with Ian’s on a form before. Ian doing this… it made their relationship a little more permanent.

  Brad thought about kissing Ian senseless right there in the clinic. Figured Ian wanted to keep their relationship quiet. So he waited for Ian to turn in the form, before curving his arm around Ian’s back. He stroked Ian’s baby bump with his fingertips, discreetly dragging his wrist down Ian’s clothes.

  “Brad,” Ian murmured, but his smile was wider now, his eyes less shadowed.

  “Wanna tell me what’s wrong?” Brad kissed Ian’s shoulder.

  “I had a run-in with my mother.” Ian sighed.

  “Huh. I had a run-in with mine, too.”

  Ian frowned. “I thought...”

  “I dreamed about her.” Brad cracked a smile. “Felt too fucking real. Hurt like a bitch when I woke up.”

  “Oh.” Ian’s face fell. “I’m sorry.” He cupped Brad’s cheeks in his hands, looking at Brad in concern. “Are you okay?”

  Brad shrugged. “Fine, I guess.”

  “Was it a good dream?”