Red Hot Daddy: An Mpreg Romance

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Red Hot Daddy: An Mpreg Romance Page 14

by Austin Bates


  "That was your last appointment today," Anne said without looking up. It had been two days since Damien had left, and they'd been glued to the news about the brush fire spreading across northern Colorado. "The news is saying that the fire is down to small pockets."

  "What does that mean?" he wondered, heading for the bathroom.

  "I think," Carlos said, waving his phone as Tommy went by, "that they've sent some of the firefighters home. Mesa Hills has on their press page that their teams are back with a commendation from the Governor."

  Tommy pulled his phone out of his pocket with shaking hands. There were no text messages, and he tried not to be disappointed. Tears welled up in his eyes for no good reason, and he hurriedly shut himself in the bathroom so that no one would see. Damien had plenty of valid reasons for not contacting him. They weren't dating. He could still be on site. They weren't dating. He might be passed out from 36 hours fighting a brush fire. And most importantly of all: they weren't dating!

  Wiping his eyes with a scrap of paper towel, Tommy shook his head at his reflection. "You're an idiot," he said to himself.

  Once he was presentable again, he shuffled back out to the shop and flipped the closed sign. "We're closing early," he announced, and Anne cheered.

  "First round is on me," she said, dragging Tommy in for a hug.

  Maybe a night on the town wasn't a bad idea. Tommy let her lean on him as he ran his fingers over the phone in his pocket. "Second round is on me."

  "Awesome," Anne said, giving Carlos a high-five. "I know just the place."

  Tommy smiled, his aches and pains receding at the thought of going out and having fun for once. He hadn't been out in months.

  Anne hugged him again, and his bladder protested. Sighing, Tommy disentangled himself and patted her on the back. "Go get the car started. I'll be out in a minute."

  She rolled her eyes at him. "Are you going pee again? You should see a doctor about that. You pee more than Vicki when she was pregnant with the twins."

  Sucking in a breath so fast that he choked, Tommy stumbled over to the wall and braced himself as his heart sank into his feet. "Oh God," he said, his mind whirling. He had never even thought about it, but he had been peeing a lot for a couple weeks now. And that upset stomach that he'd told himself was the stress of being Damien's repeated one-night stand.

  With shaking hands, he turned on the bathroom light and stared at himself in the mirror. He couldn't possibly be... They'd used protection every single time! He reached for the waistband of his sweats, but his hand rebelled, landing on his hip instead.

  What was he going to do? There was no way that Damien was going to be willing to be a part of this. Hell, he'd run all the way to California again.

  Tommy's lungs burned, and he forced himself to take a deep breath. He probably wasn't. Maybe he had a urinary tract infection. Tommy shut the light off without looking at his reflection. He needed to know.

  Striding past Anne and Carlos, he tossed her a twenty. "I've got something to do. Drink one for me."

  "Boss," she said, her voice so gentle that it almost broke him.

  "I'm not going to be in tomorrow," he said, talking over her because thinking about the practical aspects of the shop was the only thing keeping him from screaming. "Make sure that you review the security footage if there's another spray paint incident. I left Detective Williams' number in the top drawer of my desk."

  "I will, boss." Her hand fluttered over his arm, but she didn't touch him. He was grateful for the kindness.

  "Don't forget to reschedule my appointments," he said as he pulled on his jacket, tucking his hands in the pockets so she wouldn't see how bad they were shaking.

  "I'll email them right now before I leave," she said, her voice choked with tears.

  "Don't," he said, blinking hard. "Not right now."

  "Yeah. Sorry." She straightened her shoulders and pointed to the door. "Go run your errand, boss. We've got this."

  He went. The night was gorgeous, spring flowers blooming everywhere, even in this part of town. He noticed it only as a distraction to keep his mind off the panicked thoughts playing on loop.

  The first drug store that he came across was well lit and clean He stood and stared at the pregnancy test for almost ten minutes before he could convince himself to pick it up. The clerk behind the checkout didn't even look up, scanning the box and taking his money with a hazy, half-asleep look about her.

  He made the mistake of brushing against his stomach as he pulled his seatbelt on, and the world twisted sideways for a minute. He had to count his breaths, going through the list of Tai Chi positions in his head to try and ground himself. He'd never been as built as Damien, and he'd definitely never had a rock hard, chiseled stomach. He tried to push the solid feeling of his own body to the back of his mind.

  He didn't quite make it to the bathroom before he puked, having to settle for the kitchen sink when his front door stuck slightly. He heaved for what felt like hours, tears pouring down his cheeks and nothing coming up. When he was done, he was swaying on his feet, emotionally wrung out.

  The box in its paper pharmacy bag sat innocuously on the counter, a loaded bomb about to destroy the life he'd spent ten years building. He picked it up and took it to the bathroom with him. As tempting as it was to drop it in the trash, ignoring his problems had never made them go away. It wasn't his style anymore, anyway.

  He followed the directions precisely, but he didn't wait for the double pink line to show up on the plastic stick. He didn't need to. Grabbing his jacket, he headed for the door. He had somewhere to be.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The pounding echoed through the entire apartment.

  Groaning, Damien buried his head in his pillow and tried to ignore the sound of a fist hammering someone's front door. It had to have been going on for a while. After 36 hours of fighting grass fires, he'd come straight home and passed out in bed. He hadn't even bothered to take off his shoes.

  A glance at the clock explained why no one had complained about the noise; most of his neighbors would be at work. Rolling over again, Damien tried to stuff the pillow tightly enough around his head to block out the world. Whoever it was, they were persistent. The banging was only getting louder.

  Dragging himself to his feet, Damien grimaced at the gritty feeling of his clothes. He stank of smoke, and it felt like there was a layer of ash glued to his skin. It would take a week of showers to feel human again. He headed for the door, the loud sounds making his head ache. Peeling off his shirt as he went, he dropped it in the middle of the living room, one end caught on the coffee table.

  It was odd that nobody was shouting, but maybe he'd missed that portion of the events. He scratched at the itching edges of a scabbed over burn on his chest. He'd fallen through the ground where the fire had eaten away tree roots and ended up with an ember in his suit. The burn itself was tender, but the healing areas just itched like crazy.

  As he rounded the wall that separated the living room from the tiny scrap of tile that served as an entry, it filtered through his exhaustion that it was his door being pounded on. Confused, he stared at it for a long moment as it rattled on its cheap hinges.

  Whoever it was, they were talking to themselves. He could just make out the rhythm of a high pitched voice in between the frantic knocks. For a moment, he worried it was Maria, but she would have called. He dug his phone out of his pocket just to be sure and was relieved to have no missed calls or texts.

  Shrugging, he leaned against the corner of the doorway and turned the handle. The knocking and voice both stopped, leaving an uneasy silence behind. He didn't undo the chain, just in case.

  Pulling the door open just a crack, he was surprised to see Tommy standing on the other side of the door, his eyes red. He was shaking, his hands clutched in front of him like he was about to start praying.

  "I thought you were dead," Tommy said, his voice hoarse. "They told me you'd gone home at the fire station, but I've been knocking for
twenty minutes."

  Stung, Damien crossed his arms and glared. "I have gotten six hours of sleep in the last three days. I came home and passed out."

  "You could have texted me to say you were okay."

  "I don't have time for this," Damien said, straightening up and shutting the door. "I'll call you when I wake up, and we can reschedule my appointment." He locked the bolt with a harsh click and turned back toward bed. Or the couch, whichever came first. He couldn't deal with Tommy looking so scared and upset on so little sleep. All he wanted to do was wipe that look away, whatever it took, and his brain wasn't up to filtering him.

  "I'm pregnant."

  Damien paused. Sliding the bolt and the chain, he opened the door again. "What did you just say?"

  Glancing up and down the hall, his shoulders hunched, Tommy pushed past him and disappeared into the kitchen. A moment later, he paced back out again, circling the couch as he threaded his hands through his hair and pulled. "I'm pregnant," he said, the words carefully enunciated but still not making any sense.

  Even if he'd slept for a week, Damien didn't think he'd have been able to process that. He stared at Tommy, taking in the way his hands kept fluttering around his waist, never quite touching. He looked exhausted, dark bags under his eyes. Under that, there was a gentle curve to his jaw that hadn't been there before.

  "Holy shit," Damien said, unable to stop the smile that spread across his face. He was going to be a dad. His mom was going to freak out. Laughter bubbled up from deep in his belly. He was finally going to get to have a little piece of him and Tommy in the world like he'd dreamed about a decade ago.

  The reminder of everything that had been lost ten years ago stopped the joy in its tracks. He looked away, the smile melting off his face. In the reflection on the tinted living room window, he could see Tommy's ghost superimposed over the view of the park out back. The jungle gym arched over his head like a halo, but his eyes were the same cold blue as that day. Damien's hands clenched at his side.

  "You can't be pregnant," he said. "We've used protection every single time. Or," he added, a cold chill creeping down his back, "did you forget to use it when you were with someone else?"

  Tommy recoiled as if Damien had hit him, his hands finally coming to rest on his stomach, pressing the t-shirt to the definite curve of a baby bump. Damien wanted to throw up. How could he trust anything that Tommy said? He tried to remember how much it cost to have a paternity test done.

  "How dare you?" Tommy straightened back up slowly, and his eyes when he met Damien's gaze in the window weren't cold anymore. There was enough anger in them to set the world on fire. With the jungle gym halo and a burning sword made of the curve of the slide, he looked like an angel of vengeance.

  Damien's gut twisted, and he turned away from the image, putting his back up against the chilly glass. It didn't help much. Tommy was just as beautiful and dangerous from that angle.

  "How fucking dare you?!" Tommy spat, stalking forward until he was close enough to stab one finger into Damien's chest.

  "How can I trust you, Tommy?" The question came out more pleading that Damien had intended, but he set his jaw and plowed on. "I can't just forget everything that's happened. Are you going to come back in six months and tell me it isn't really mine? Are you going to deny everything when someone asks you who the father is? I need some proof."

  A muscle twitched in Tommy's jaw, and Damien could hear his teeth grind together. "Fuck you," he said. "Fuck your proof. You think I can forget what happened? You think I don't see the bone sticking out through your leg in my nightmares? You aren't the only one who lost everything that day, Damien. I lost my best friend, my home, and my school all in ten minutes."

  "I wasn't your best friend." Damien loomed over the smaller omega, tension coiling in his back and shoulders until the knots of muscle made him seem twice his actual size. "Everything we ever had was a lie. You looked me right in the eye, and you made sure I knew it before you walked away."

  Turning his head away, Tommy slumped, the fight going out of him. "I made a mistake," he said.

  "So did I," Damien growled. There was a voice at the back of his mind that sounded suspiciously like Mica, and it was telling him not to say anything that he might regret. He ignored it. "I made the mistake of trusting you once. I'm not going to make it again."

  Tommy whipped around so fast that Damien would have taken a step back if his shoulder wasn't already against the window. "You know what? Fine." His hands weren't shaking anymore, rock steady where they rested on his stomach. "I've spent ten years willingly taking the guilt for what happened that day. I screwed up. I've admitted that. I've learned, I've grown, and I've prayed every day for the chance to make it up to you. Well, fuck that." He threw his hands in the air and paced the few feet to the other side of the room. "You don't deserve it."

  Something in Damien's chest snapped, and he felt the wave of rage wash over him as if from a distance. He wanted to shout and rage, but he couldn't move. There wasn't enough air in the room, gray dots flickering in his vision.

  "You are still clinging to your anger and your hate like it's going to make what happened any better, but all it does is fester and eat away at you," Tommy said, his voice pitying. "You've shut me out every time I've tried to apologize, every time I've tried to tell my side. I respected your wishes, but today, I don't care. You need to hear this, so I'm going to tell it, and then I'm leaving. You can stay the fuck away from me and my shop."

  Against his will, Damien watched Tommy pace, the smell of smoke in his nose the only thing grounding him.

  "You're right," Tommy said after a moment, his hands clenched in his hair. "I lied. I lied through my teeth because it was the only thing I could think of." He stopped, staring at Damien with calm eyes. "I lied to Coach Miller. If I had told him to fuck off and let my boyfriend go, they'd have grabbed me, too, and nobody would have come to help us until it was too late. My dad used to be good friends with Coach Miller, so I know exactly what he did to the kid that got him fired from CSU." His voice trembled as he continued, each word drilling into Damien's head, "I walked away, alright. I ran as fast as I could, and I screamed so loud that a dozen teachers came running.

  "I was too late." He looked away, scrubbing angrily at his cheeks. "I didn't get the ring until two weeks later because my dad kicked me out the day I agreed to testify against Coach Miller. I stayed at the Fairlane until my grandma could get to Golden. I couldn't go to school because there were threats against my life. I could barely leave my room. Missy used to bring me food from the diner because it was too dangerous for me to walk down Main Street."

  Arms itching to pull Tommy close, Damien dug his fingers into his forearms to keep them from moving. "You didn't testify at the trial. Nobody from town did. Detective Fox told me that the evidence was so damning that it was an open and shut case."

  Tommy raised his head, a sneer twisting his lips. "I wasn't from Golden. Not from that day on. I moved in with Grandma Rose after the trial, and I hadn't been back to Golden until the funeral."

  Damien shook his head, something dark and angry stirring in his gut. "You're lying."

  There was a long moment where he thought Tommy would throw a punch, scream or cry, or even just break something. He did none of those. His face fell, collapsing into lines of exhaustion. "I've said everything I wanted to say," he said, his voice quiet. "I'm leaving, just like I promised." He turned and shuffled to the door, his boots loud on the cheap carpet. He paused, halfway in the room to look at Damien one last time.

  Expecting him to have one last parting shot, Damien was surprised when Tommy walked out without a word, the door closing with a soft click behind him.

  He stared at that familiar door for a long time, waiting for Tommy to come storming back in. It never happened, so he slid the bolt. He thought about going to bed, but he was wide awake now, so he sat down on the couch to take off his boots instead.

  In his pocket, his phone chimed, and he had it out b
efore the last tone could fade. It was only a notification from Lucas that they were all off for the next three days. Trying to ignore the disappointment that welled up in him, Damien scrolled through his contacts.

  "Damien?" The hum of voices in the background as Maria picked up made him feel slightly guilty. "What's wrong? I thought you'd sleep for a week."

  "Sorry to interrupt your meeting," he said, the right words stubbornly refusing to come to mind. "I had a question."

  "It's just a budget committee mixer," Maria said, and the voices in the background faded. "You know you're always welcome to interrupt me when Mrs. Collins is on her soap box."

  His lips twitched. "I do seem to have the best luck with that."

  "I appreciate it. Now," she said as she settled into her office chair, the creak of the leather familiar, "what did you want to know?"

  Damien took a deep breath, his heart pounding. "Did Tommy testify in court the day your camera 'broke,' and you lost all the footage?"

  There was a very long silence, Maria's throat clicking as she swallowed. "Yes."

  Slumping back onto the couch cushions, Damien blinked at the ceiling until the tears had receded. "Why didn't anyone tell me?"

  "I tried once," she said, her voice tired. "As soon as I mentioned his name, you got so upset that the nurses had to sedate you."

  "It's been ten years," he said, trying to breathe deep to dispel the harsh edge in his voice. "I haven't needed to be sedated in nine of them."

  Maria snorted. "Did you want to hear it?"

  "Of course I wanted to hear it," Damien snapped.

  "He came alone," Maria said, her voice hard. "His black eye wasn't even fully healed, and the fingerprint bruises on his arms were still blue in some places. The prosecution tried to crucify him, but he turned every single damning statement back on them. He never even flinched." Damien jerked away from the phone, and he could tell from her voice that she knew she'd made her point. "You didn't want to hear it, big brother. You'd already judged him, and you weren't about to change your mind."

 

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