“Plenty of people who smell like carnation,” Eric said.
“Someone I know?”
“Nah.” Eric couldn’t help the heat in his cheeks, though. What possessed him to fuck Olivier? “Maybe you’ve met him in school or something, I don’t know.”
“Well, tell him I said hi,” Cole said.
“I’m not seeing him again.” At least, not without Ollie asking him to.
Eric turned away from the kitchen, itching for a shower. He needed to wash the scent off his skin and forget about today.
“I wasn’t expecting you to look for another omega,” Cole said behind him.
“Me neither. Things just happened, okay?”
Eric left the kitchen before he snapped at Cole. It wasn’t like he’d been looking. Hell, Eric didn’t want another omega. He was the one who’d gotten them into the car crash. He was the one who had gotten Alice killed.
Just like that, the grief plunged into his chest again, heavy like a sledgehammer.
It should’ve been him who died. He’d been the one driving. He should’ve seen the truck coming. Except Alice had shouted, and Eric had swerved too late, just enough to protect him and Jenn. Alice had died on the spot. Eric and Jenn had sustained minimal injuries.
How was Eric any good of an alpha, when he couldn’t keep his omega alive? He’d lost his best friend that night, and the memory of Jenn crying, Alice’s blood scarlet all over his hands... he couldn’t forget it. Couldn’t bear to admit to anyone that he was the one at fault.
So it meant Eric couldn’t return to Olivier unless Ollie asked, and even then, he had to keep his distance. It wasn’t like Eric could keep another person alive. He couldn’t commit.
He definitely couldn’t fall back in love with Olivier, like how he had all those years ago.
And yet, seeing Olivier curled up, tears streaking down his cheeks...
When Eric held him, Olivier had calmed. He’d leaned closer to Eric like Eric didn’t have death on his hands, and with him, Eric had felt... a little bit of salvation. Of hope.
But Olivier also didn’t know what Eric had done.
He stopped by Jenn’s cot again, wondering how he’d ever explain to her the way her mother had died. Then he imagined Alice saying, You should’ve known better.
“Maybe I should’ve,” Eric murmured, imagining winter-blue eyes, and Olivier’s breath on his lips.
With her red hair and green eyes, Jenn looked like Alice. It was for the best that Olivier never saw her, never saw the family Eric had built before he’d lost his omega. Especially now that Eric knew Olivier had lied... not because of any maliciousness, but because Olivier had loved him.
I can’t believe you still do, Eric thought, his chest squeezing.
He didn’t want to break Olivier’s heart. That meant never getting involved with him, never showing Olivier his daughter.
Somehow, that, too, felt wrong.
7
Olivier
“I feel weird every time I step in there,” Levi said, looking askance at the backroom of Olivier’s Strings. “I mean... I can still smell the sex. Nothing against you, Ollie.”
Olivier hid his face in his hands, his cheeks burning. “Stop talking about it.”
He’d been airing out the shop the entire week. Most of the musk had faded from the public-facing shop, aided by the piles of scented wood chips Olivier had left around.
But there was still a hint of the musk, and behind the closed door of the backroom, the evidence of his mating still lingered. He smelled the sex, the carnation, and Eric’s cedar scent.
The only consolation was that no one else knew who the cedar scent belonged to—only Levi. Olivier trusted his friend not to spread the news.
Levi sidled up to him with a thoughtful look. In a low voice, he said, “I can’t get it out of my head. I mean, what does it feel like... you know, doing the thing with your brother?”
Olivier’s stomach dropped. “Don’t say it out loud!”
Levi covered his mouth, glancing around the empty shop.
There was only one other person around. Mrs. Antoinette was hard-of-hearing, poking around amongst the violin care aisle. So, no one was listening. And Levi waited next to him, his gaze expectant.
Olivier couldn’t deny the truth. The day after it happened, Levi had wrinkled his nose at the scent. I thought he was your brother! he’d said.
He’s my stepbrother, Olivier had answered.
“Why are you asking me that?” Olivier muttered. “Sex is sex, isn’t it?”
“But I’ve never slept with my brothers before,” Levi said in a hushed whisper.
“Then go try it instead of asking me!”
Levi’s eyes almost fell out of his head. “What?” he squawked. “I mean, I love my brothers, Ollie, but not in that way.”
“It’s just sex,” Olivier said, so Levi would work instead of asking him things he didn’t want to think about. “You know what that’s like.”
Levi scrunched up his face. “I’ve never fucked someone... well, I’ve never fucked someone I shouldn’t.”
“Just as well you haven’t,” Olivier said darkly. “That’ll save you a lot of headache.”
“No lie, I’ve been imagining what it’s like for you. I mean, Eric’s pretty hot. So I figured you had some hot sex with him. Like, pin-you-against-the-wall kind of hot.”
“You... have been imagining me having sex.”
Levi squirmed. “Yes? I mean, I imagined I was you, and then I imagined Eric was my brother, and... oh gods, this must sound really awkward.”
“Yes, it sounds very awkward.”
Levi winced. “Let’s pretend I didn’t say that. Did it feel weird doing the thing with Eric? Or did you really enjoy it?”
Olivier groaned. “Just go ask one of your brothers, Levi. Maybe more than one. So you’ll get the full brother-love experience.”
“Oh, gods, no.” Levi looked horrified. “That’s just wrong.”
“All of this is wrong.” Olivier sighed, looking down at his belly. He still remembered Eric shoving his legs open, Eric spreading his cheeks, his tongue probing inside. Then his thick cock pushing in, Olivier stretched open around him, and... gods. Just the memory alone had Olivier’s heart thumping.
He’d jerked off to Eric again last night. And every other night, when the side effects of the morning-after pill had worn off a little. He’d shoved his fingers into himself, pretending it was Eric pounding him into the bed.
His heat had faded by now, but from the way Olivier’s bedroom still reeked of musk... maybe all Olivier needed was Eric’s knot, just to complete that mating. Yes, that had to be it.
“It was good,” Olivier said finally.
Levi’s eyes grew wide. “All of it?”
Olivier sighed. “Yes.”
“Even when he was—when he was inside? Or was it better then? Did you take his knot?”
“Gods, Levi.” Olivier blushed. “It was better. Now get working before I fire you!”
Levi yelped, scrambling away. It wasn’t as though there was much for him to do—business had deteriorated further over this week, and Olivier could manage by himself what little sales remained.
He felt bad even thinking about ending Levi’s contract. But when the day’s earnings hardly paid rent... this couldn’t go on forever.
Olivier’s belly ached. He no longer knew if it was dread, or just a lingering side effect of the morning-after pill. After three days of vomiting, his body cramping up... there was no doubt that Olivier wasn’t pregnant.
Which was probably for the best, despite the emptiness it carved into his heart.
I wanted that baby.
Before he could sink into despair, Mrs. Antoinette stepped up to the counter, setting down two boxes of rosin for her bow. She was a portly beta, with graying curls and a sage scent.
“Morning,” she said, smiling kindly at him. “Have you heard about the new store in town?”
Total Sounds? Was the
re any chance Olivier could’ve missed it?
He forced a smile. “I believe I have! It’s a nice place, isn’t it?”
“Sorry? You’ll have to speak up!” Mrs. Antoinette cupped a hand around her ear.
“Nice place,” Olivier said loudly, not meaning it at all.
“It is.” Mrs. Antoinette glanced around the shop, her smile fading. “I hope it isn’t affecting you too badly. They’ve been having a grand sale all of last week.”
Which explained why Olivier’s Strings had been a ghost shop. With all their supplies stocked up, who would bother visiting Olivier’s store anymore?
“You should go take a look at the Prime Road branch,” Mrs. Antoinette added. “It’s about four times the size of this place. “And more affordable, I must admit.”
Olivier’s heart sank. “I’ve already lowered the prices here.”
“Sorry?” She cupped her ear again, leaning in.
“I’ve lowered the prices,” Olivier repeated. Talking about this was one thing, but saying over and over how badly his shop was doing? It made his chest hurt.
“I know, and I don’t think it’s enough. These are fifty cents cheaper over at Total Sounds.” Mrs. Antoinette nodded at the boxes of rosin. “But I don’t want to see this place go out of business, Olivier. Do something.”
Olivier breathed out. Levi was listening in from his corner of the store. Maybe Levi should apply for a part-time position at Total Sounds—it certainly would be a more stable income for him.
Olivier rang up the bottles of rosin, forcing another smile when he said, “Did you bring your member card? It’s an extra ten percent off.”
Mrs. Antoinette fished in her wallet, then shook her head. “I’m not giving you the card. Keep the difference, Olivier. You’ll need it.”
Olivier’s throat closed. She could’ve saved seventy cents. And yet, she was doing this for him.
“Thanks,” he croaked, slipping the rosin into a small bag, printed with his wood-grain logo. “Have a great day, Mrs. Antoinette.”
She took the bag, waved, and disappeared out of the shop. And now the shop was truly empty, save for Olivier and Levi.
“That sucks,” Levi said, scowling. “First the big groceries and department stores, and now music stores, too?”
Olivier sighed. “It was bound to happen, I guess. You know... why don’t you head on over to Total Sounds? They might have a spot for temp staff.”
“Are you serious?” Levi looked incredulous. “I’m not jumping ship.”
“They can pay you better than I can. And you know that, too.”
Levi scowled. “Doesn’t mean I’m going to work for the competition.”
Olivier winced. “At least, get an application form.”
“No way, buddy.”
“Yes way.”
“No.”
“Yes!”
Levi glared, and Olivier glowered back. Then Levi blurted, “If you want me to work there so much, why don’t you go and get me a form? I’ll keep watch over here.”
Olivier growled. “I’m trying to look out for you, damn it. It’s not like your parents are paying for your tuition.”
Levi made a face. “Well, I’m doing fine working my way through college. Don’t you worry about me.”
But Olivier would rather worry about Levi, than himself. Levi was a better person, anyway. Not someone who went around sleeping with his brother.
If Zan ever came back, and if he saw how low Olivier had sunken, he would laugh. Zan always did. Nothing Olivier did was enough for him—not the sex, not the cooking. He’d treated Olivier like a servant, ordering him around. Then he’d slapped Olivier, thrown him against the wall, and Olivier had accepted all of that.
It had been easier than imagining a life with Eric.
His heart aching, Olivier touched the scab on his neck. Eric’s marking was right over Zan’s—two bites that never should have landed.
He never did contact Eric. Didn’t see a point, anyway, when there was hardly anything attractive about himself. His business was failing. He’d lost any chance of conceiving Eric’s baby.
“Get out and get some fresh air,” Levi said, stepping over to give Olivier a nudge. “Who knows? Maybe you’ll see your brother again.”
I can’t. Olivier glared. “I’m going to get you an application form, damn it.”
“Fine. But stay out there—maybe you’ll cheer up. Find something good for you.”
Olivier refused to admit that Levi was right. He stalked out of the shop, shoving his hands in his pockets.
It was chilly out. Meadowfall was too close to the California coast to see snow in winters, but the nights sometimes dropped to near-freezing temperatures. Olivier huddled in his sweater, striding along the streets downtown.
He should’ve taken his car; it was cold. More so than yesterday. The sky was too bright, and the sounds from the traffic grated on his ears.
What’s wrong with me? Am I falling sick?
Groaning at the possibility, Ollie pulled the neck of his sweater up over his mouth, just to stay warm.
He passed the bare trees along the streets, and couples walking hand-in-hand. He passed omegas with babies swaddled in their arms, and the warm candlelight in restaurants, luring customers inside.
He wished... that he had someone. Eric.
It felt like forever before he reached Prime Road, and the rows of high-end shops there. From afar, the great signboard for Total Sounds towered over the low buildings like a beacon. Cars turned into the parking lot, lured by the crimson SALE! sign.
I should probably do that, too, Olivier thought. But will it save my business?
He followed the vehicles into the parking lot, then ducked through the doors of the Total Sounds branch. Inside, the ceilings were two stories high, and aisles upon aisles of music equipment lined the linoleum floor—drums, music stands, amplifier cables.
The store carried product after product, each stacked ten deep. Olivier wandered through the aisles, his heart heavy.
He didn’t have the space or capital to sell as many products as Total Sounds did. He couldn’t purchase his stock in their volumes, and he didn’t have their sort of money for ads.
If this went on... he could see why his customers were leaving. Because they had better choices here, better prices.
What am I going to do if my shop closes?
Sick to his stomach, Olivier turned around, trudging toward the exit. Why bother going back to his shop? Why bother trying?
And then he was angry at Total Sounds for coming to Meadowfall, stealing his business away from him. I was here first. I should be doing better than they are.
But how? Olivier didn’t have an answer.
He looked at the floor, begrudging their stupid red carpet, their wide aisles, the fluorescent lamps shining down on the products.
“Bick, get over to the cashier stands,” someone rumbled in the next aisle over, in a voice that was so familiar it couldn’t be. “Julia, grab another box of 32-gig flash drives from the back. We’re clean out.”
Olivier kept his head down, his thoughts racing. It couldn’t be Eric. It just sounded like him. He’d step over to the next aisle and it’d be some sniveling alpha with scary eyes and a leering smile—
Someone crashed into him from the side. Olivier’s balance flew out the window; he wobbled, crying out. He was going to fall. He was going to hurt.
Just before he did, someone caught his arm, a warm, sturdy grip that hauled him back upright. There was a whiff of cedar, a solid chest, someone with a starched white shirt and a gleaming name tag.
“Sorry, that was my faul—” The man stopped talking.
Then there was silence, and Olivier looked up, his heart pounding.
A few inches away, Eric’s mouth fell open. “Ollie?”
8
Olivier
If briefs could drop on a whim, Olivier’s would have. Eric looked good. He’d gelled his blond hair into sleek spikes, he was clean
-shaven, and there was a whiff of subtle cologne on him. And pinned on his broad chest, the silver name tag read Eric Lancaster, Regional Manager.
Those words burned into Olivier’s eyes.
It couldn’t be. He was seeing things. But Eric held a walkie-talkie in his hand, and it crackled.
“Eric?” someone said over the walkie-talkie, their voice tinny.
Eric held Olivier’s gaze. Then he lifted the walkie-talkie to his lips. “Here. What did you need, Alex?”
“I’m going on my fifteen-minute break,” Alex said.
“Noted,” Eric answered. Then he lowered the walkie-talkie, and Olivier still couldn’t believe what he’d seen.
Eric was a manager at Total Sounds. Not just any manager, but one in charge of multiple stores. This store. And probably the other one in Meadowfall, too.
“You—you didn’t tell me,” Olivier whispered, his thoughts whirling.
Eric knew Olivier had a music shop. Eric had stepped into that store, he’d fucked Olivier in the backroom. And this entire time... Eric had been the one to destroy Olivier’s business, hadn’t he?
His mouth bitter with betrayal, Olivier backed away from Eric.
“Ollie, listen—” Regret flashed through Eric’s eyes “—I didn’t know until last week.”
“You didn’t know?” Olivier shrugged out of Eric’s grip, his chest hurting. “You didn’t open these stores last week, okay? You knew even before you—even before you...”
You knew even before you slept with me.
How could Eric have done that? Without even apologizing?
Eric winced. “I’m sorry. Ollie—”
“Don’t call me that.” Olivier turned, struggling to breathe. I thought I could trust you. “You were just trying to screw me over.”
There were people looking now, some of whom were Olivier’s regulars. He couldn’t stay here, couldn’t make a fool of himself even though he wanted to lash out.
So he turned and strode to the exit, blinking hard. All he needed was to hold back his tears. He needed to keep himself together, and when he was alone, he could cry.
I thought I wouldn’t fuck up with Eric. But it’s just getting worse.
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