by Piper Scott
None of them had said a word about it. Not yet. Right now, all Nathaniel cared about was that Dylan was back in his arms.
“Mr. O’Toole, if you’ll kindly come with me to sign the release forms, we can get you out of here and get Dylan back home,” the counselor said, speaking to Uncle Martin. Uncle Martin nodded and followed her into a small office off to the side, leaving Nathaniel and Dylan alone.
Dylan watched them go from the corner of his eye, his lips tight. When the office door closed, he seemed to relax a little. Nathaniel took him by the hand, lacing their fingers together. Dylan’s eyes turned back to him.
“You manifested as an omega,” Dylan remarked softly. He cocked his head to the side the tiniest bit, his dead eyes staring into Nathaniel’s. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help you with your first heat, or tell you it was going to be okay.”
Nathaniel worked his thumb in tender circles over the back of Dylan’s hand. “You didn’t need to. It’s okay. You don’t need to feel sorry about anything.”
“I feel sorry about all kinds of things,” Dylan admitted. He looked toward the office again. “The people here are nice, but they’ve tried to convince me that it isn’t my fault. It is. I did this to myself.”
“I don’t see how any of this is your fault,” Nathaniel objected. He gestured toward a stone bench set against the wall. “Why don’t we go sit?”
As they walked and sat, Dylan answered. “It’s my fault because I was the one who ran away, and I was the one who let myself be taken in like that. I didn’t think that… I didn’t think it would be so bad, or that they’d hold me captive like that. I’m sorry, Nathaniel.”
Nathaniel scooted closer and tucked his arm behind Dylan’s back, and Dylan rested his head on Nathaniel’s shoulder. For a while they sat in silence, adjusting to each other’s presence. Nathaniel still couldn’t believe that they’d found Dylan alive after so long. Uncle Martin had never called off the search, but in Nathaniel’s heart, Dylan had died.
“I tried to call home,” Dylan admitted once the silence grew too thick. “People I didn’t know picked up the phone.”
“We moved a couple of years after you went missing,” Nathaniel explained. “Just a few streets over, into the apartments above Uncle Martin’s pie shop. It was right after I went through my first heat. Uncle Martin knew that being an omega was going to limit the things I could do in life, and the mortgage payments were climbing, so we downsized in order to afford to keep me.”
“You’re not doing well financially?” Dylan asked. “I can make money if you need it. I mean, I’m not going to be big like this forever, so I can be back in the game soon, and—”
“You’re not going to sell yourself,” Nathaniel said fiercely, cutting Dylan short. “You’re not going to do that ever again. Business has really picked up at Five Pie, and we’re being a lot smarter with money now. Uncle Martin and I have savings, and if we wanted to we could move somewhere bigger, but we didn’t see the need. There is plenty of room for you, even if you can’t work. I’ve been covering as many shifts as I can to help with labor costs, and you can do the same once you feel comfortable enough to do it.”
“It’s not just me I have to worry about,” Dylan murmured. He traced a hand over his baby bump. “I’m going to have a baby soon, Nate. They… they bred it into me, but I’m not going to give it up. I’m not going to let them steal its life, too.”
“How far along are you?” Nathaniel asked.
“Almost eight months, I think,” Dylan murmured.
“You think?”
“I mean, I know it caught during a heat.” Dylan lifted his eyes to look at Nathaniel, the lack of emotion in them rattling Nathaniel’s resolve. “But I’ve kind of lost track of time. It’s easy to forget, when you’re in there. I think it’s eight months.”
“But how can you not know? They didn’t let you see a doctor?” Nathaniel asked.
Dylan’s back went rigid. He caressed his bump a little more hurriedly, anxiety plain on his face. “No. They did. But I don’t do doctors. I don’t. I can’t.”
After what Dylan had been through, Nathaniel couldn’t blame him. He didn’t want to ask what had shaped Dylan’s views on medical professionals, but he also knew enough to know that without prenatal care, his niece or nephew was at risk. “Did they take care of you during your pregnancy at all? Did they have you on any pills, or—”
“I won’t take pills,” Dylan said rigidly. “I won’t take anything. You can’t make me, Nate. You can’t.”
Nathaniel backed off. He bit down on his bottom lip, heartbroken for his brother. Dylan still had the same features, even if his body was older, and his voice was familiar, but he wasn’t the same person Nathaniel remembered. His own brother was a stranger.
“The baby is going to be fine,” Dylan said, voice edged in desperation. “It kicks. It moves. I feel it being active. It doesn’t need any help right now, and it’s going to be born soon, anyway.”
“You’ll need someone to help with that,” Nathaniel gently insisted. “We’ll need to take you to the hospital, Dylan.”
“No.” Dylan’s face hardened. “I won’t. I’m not going to go. I will give birth at home, or in the streets, or wherever I happen to be, but I will not go to a hospital.”
Nathaniel let silence stretch between them. Dylan’s refusal couldn’t come at a worse time. Nathaniel knew that Uncle Martin would insist he be checked up, and there was no way that either of them would let Dylan give birth without assistance, especially if it was his first time.
Was it? Nathaniel realized suddenly that it might not have been. Dylan had run away after his first heat, and that meant that he’d been able to bear children for the last five years.
“Is this your first pregnancy?” Nathaniel asked, fearful of what Dylan’s reply would be. If it wasn’t, could they track down the children? Could they care for five new lives?
“It’s my first,” Dylan said. “I wasn’t… chosen until recently.”
Nathaniel didn’t want to pry into what that meant. Instead, he gripped Dylan’s hand and squeezed it. “We’re going to figure it out, okay? There are alternatives. We could have a home delivery with a do—”
Nathaniel stopped himself short, and a blush crept across his cheeks. With his free hand, he dug into his pocket and produced Harrison’s business card. After their encounter in the pie shop, he hadn’t been able to shake the thought of Harrison from his mind, and like a schoolgirl with a crush, he’d been carrying around Harrison’s business card like it was a token of his love.
Dylan looked at the card curiously.
“A doula,” Nathaniel completed. “I actually met one the other day. He um, he left his card, so we can call him and try to get something set up. He’s not a doctor—he’s just a guy who helps omegas through their pregnancy. An advocate, kind of. But he knows his stuff, and he can help you deliver, I’m sure.”
Dylan looked from the card to Nathaniel. The dead emotion in his eyes sharpened into something else, but Nathaniel couldn’t read what it was. “You met him?”
“At the pie shop,” Nathaniel said, feeling himself start to ramble. “As a customer. You know. He came in. For pie. At the pie shop. So he left his card in the jar for a free pie and—”
“And you’re carrying it around,” Dylan remarked.
Nathaniel’s face burned. He shifted his weight from thigh to thigh. “It ended up coming in handy,” he defended. “So it must’ve been fate, right? We’re going to get you through this, I promise. I think he’s the perfect solution.”
Or just plain perfect.
Plain perfect worked well, too.
3
Harrison
A week bled into two, yet Harrison struggled to shake the memory of the pie shop omega from his mind. On his way home from another successful delivery, he stopped by Five Pie in an attempt to hush his instincts and see the omega again, but when he got there, neither Uncle Martin nor the omega were working.
> Harrison ate chocolate cream pie in silence, kicking himself for giving in to his primal urges. He was better than that, after all.
But then, just shy of three weeks since his first visit to Five Pie, Harrison’s phone rang. He picked up immediately.
“Harrison Rutledge speaking,” he said. It was most likely Laurence, whose partner was due to go into labor any day now. Harrison was waiting for his call.
But it wasn’t Laurence on the line. Harrison recognized the voice on the other end of the phone right away, and despite himself, his heart soared. “Um, hi. You don’t know me. I mean, you kinda-sorta do, but… ugh. This is Nathaniel O’Toole calling. You came to my uncle’s pie shop a few weeks ago, Five Pie? And you left your card in the jar.”
Harrison grinned. Nathaniel was a nice name, and the bumbling, embarrassed way he spoke was cute. “Yes, I remember.”
“I wanted to call you because—oh god, I mean, it’s not because you won the free pie. I’m sorry if you thought that. We can give you a free pie if you want, though. I’m sorry.”
“I don’t need a free pie,” Harrison assured him, grin growing. He settled back on his couch and crossed a leg loosely, ankle over his knee. “You’re fine. I’m glad to hear from you.”
“Thanks,” Nathaniel said, uncertain. “You see, the thing is, you’re a doula, right?”
Harrison blinked. He wasn’t expecting Nathaniel to say something like that. “I am.”
“And doula means that you take care of omegas through their pregnancy and their delivery, right? Google didn’t tell me the wrong thing?”
Harrison chuckled. “Google was right.”
“Then I need your help,” Nathaniel said. Harrison’s stomach dropped. He knew that his sudden attraction was too good to be true. If Nathaniel needed a doula, it meant he was pregnant, and that meant—
“My brother is kind of in a really difficult place right now,” Nathaniel continued, still rambling. “He’s developed a phobia of doctors, and he’s been through some really sensitive situations in the last five years, and I’m worried that his unborn child isn’t going to be okay, or that something will happen during his labor that will put both of them in danger.”
Harrison’s relief upon learning that Nathaniel wasn’t the one expecting was short lived. The professional in him took over, immediately concerned for the state of Nathaniel’s brother. “How far along is he?”
“He doesn’t know for certain, but he thinks eight months.”
Harrison winced. If Nathaniel’s brother didn’t even know how far along he was, it was likely he wasn’t taking preventative measures to make sure the baby developed normally. At eight months, it was a little late to prevent much of anything.
“If he’s willing, I’d like to meet up with him as soon as he’s able, then,” Harrison said. “I’ll be in my office at the Starbright Birthing Center tomorrow from eight to six. Does that work for you?”
“Can I call you back to let you know?” Nathaniel asked. The downcast, concerned tone of his voice made Harrison’s hair stand on end in worry. “I need to talk to him. He’s really adamant about this whole no doctors thing, and I don’t think he’s convinced that you’re not one of them.”
“Call me whenever you need,” Harrison said. It wasn’t just the professional talking anymore—the sound of Nathaniel’s voice scratched an itch inside of him he didn’t realize he had. “You can text, too, if you’re not in a place where you can talk freely.”
“Thank you.” Nathaniel truly sounded grateful, and Harrison melted just a little bit. “Really. I’ll be in touch. I just want to make sure he’s okay.”
“We’ll talk soon,” Harrison promised.
The call ended. Harrison looked down at his phone, smiled at the frozen call time, then tapped on the screen to saved Nathaniel’s number to his contact list. He had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last time he’d see that number light up his screen.
Something that he hadn’t even realized was tight within him eased. He trusted in fate. It had always been kind to him.
Nathaniel, Uncle Martin, and Nathaniel’s heavily pregnant brother, Dylan, arrived at Starbright Birthing Center as Harrison was finishing lunch. He welcomed them warmly and had them sit in chairs he pulled up before his desk. Dylan said nothing, and he kept his gaze locked on his knees. Harrison didn’t need to know much about his case to understand that look—someone had hurt him, and the pregnancy wasn’t exactly a happy one, if he had to guess.
“Thank you for having us here, Mr. Rutledge,” Uncle Martin said. “We really appreciate you taking time to see us on such short notice.”
“I think anyone here at Starbright would do the same, considering the circumstances,” Harrison said. “I think the real one who deserves praise is Dylan. Thank you for coming in. I know that pregnancy isn’t always easy.”
Dylan looked up from his knees and hazarded a look in Harrison’s direction, then buried his gaze again. He said nothing, and Nathaniel reached over and squeezed his knee.
“I was hoping that, to start, we could do a little bit of information gathering,” Harrison said. He needed certain information in order to make a patient file for Dylan, not to mention best prepare himself for the kind of birth Dylan wanted to have. Some omegas chose to birth in the Starbright center, others preferred to give birth from home, and some were staunchly devoted to the idea of birthing in a hospital. Each birthing place presented a different set of challenges, and Harrison needed to know what to prepare for beforehand in order to smooth the process. “Is that okay?”
“I didn’t know you were an alpha,” Dylan murmured. “I don’t know if I want to do this anymore.”
Harrison nodded, trying not to let the hurt show on his face. He gave his everything to his profession, but he understood that his genetic structure limited him. Omegas, especially those who were pregnant due to sexual assault, sometimes didn’t want anything to do with him.
From the corner of his eye, Harrison marked when Nathaniel’s expression grew worried. “It’s okay, Dylan,” Nathaniel murmured. “Mr. Rutledge is a professional.”
“That doesn’t mean anything,” Dylan said softly. “I saw plenty of professionals.”
Harrison glanced between the two brothers, seeking guidance. When he found none, he folded his arms on his desk and dared to take a risk. Dylan’s demeanor and the hints that had been dropped along the way reminded him a great deal of his brothers’ mates, Seth and Elijah, who’d recently been liberated from The White Lotus brothel. The bust had freed more oppressed omegas from the sex trade industry than Harrison could bear to think about.
“You know,” Harrison said. “I’m not personally aware of the struggles you’ve been through, but I am acquainted with a few omegas who were trafficked, and who are now leading happy lives and on their way to their own definitions of success.”
Dylan glanced up, and Harrison noticed that Nathaniel did, too. No matter what he did, Harrison was aware of Nathaniel, eye trained to him whether he liked it or not. The scent of him filled the room and flooded Harrison’s lungs, potent. Three weeks and adequate sleep hadn’t been enough to cure his wild attraction to the pie shop omega. But Harrison was a professional, and he knew that he needed to devote him time to Dylan, no matter how tempting it was to do otherwise.
“My brothers are each mated to a survivor of The White Lotus brothel,” Harrison continued. “I don’t know what you have or haven’t been through, but I want you to know that I’m not totally oblivious to what it’s like out there. Whether this pregnancy is a blessing or a surprise, what matters most to me is your care, and how this pregnancy goes for you.”
Dylan thinned his lips, daring to meet Harrison’s eye for the first time. Harrison smiled. The most important part of being a doula was forming a connection with the expectant parent. Trust was key.
“They are?” Dylan asked softly. “Who?”
“Seth and Elijah.” Harrison’s gaze flicked over Dylan’s face, seeing weakness play out
across it. Recognition? “Both of them are adjusting to life outside the brothel, and they’re happy, but I know what a struggle it’s been. Trauma is never easy to get over, no matter if it’s big or small.”
Dylan ducked his head, but Nathaniel’s eyes lingered on Harrison, watching him like he didn’t think Harrison noticed. The corners of his lips turned up in a pleased, understated smile that made Harrison’s heart race. It looked like he’d hit the nail on the head.
“I…” Dylan sucked in a breath. “I don’t want them to steal the love from this baby’s life, after everything they’ve taken from me, but… but I don’t know if I can do this. I don’t.” Dylan started to tremble, and the connection Harrison had worked so hard to establish shattered. “I’m sorry. I know you mean well, but—”
“Dylan, enough,” Uncle Martin said sharply, cutting him off. “We’re bending over backwards trying to accommodate you. Mr. Rutledge isn’t a doctor.”
“He’s close to a doctor,” Dylan whispered. “And he… knows.”
Harrison blinked, he opened his mouth to interject, but thought better of it. It looked like family tensions were running high. The last thing he wanted to do was cause an argument.
Uncle Martin’s shoulders squared. “When you’re pregnant, you don’t get to think only of yourself anymore. The baby growing inside of you needs help, Dylan. Your brother and I have been very patient with you so far, but enough is enough. I know this isn’t what you wanted, but it’s what you’re going to have to deal with. We can’t always get what we want in life.”
Nathaniel sat up a little straighter in his chair, expression worried. As Uncle Martin pushed Dylan to take responsibility, Nathaniel came in to provide support. His hand moved from Dylan’s knee to his arm, then slipped around his back and tugged him close. From over Dylan’s head, he shot Harrison an apologetic look. “Don’t be so hard on him, Uncle Martin. He’s been through a lot. You know that.”