Chapter 4
4
W ednesday at precisely five a.m., Brett sidled up to the back door of Lambeau’s and slid his key into the lock. He’d never needed to use that particular key before as he’d never worked that gods-awful early in the morning. Only the bakers and pastry chefs worked at that ridiculous hour, but at least it would be reasonably quiet. There’d be fewer people who might get in his way or question him—and since Pierce rarely came down before noon, he’d not have to face the boss long, either.
Brett slipped inside and the bakers lifted their gazes from the dough they were kneading, glaring at him. He offered a wave. “Morning. I’m Brett. The guy who prints your paychecks. Just getting an early start today.”
They both nodded, mumbled a “morning,” and silently returned to their kneading. Brett passed the doors to the cold kitchen and saw the three pastry chefs diligently working inside. He’d never met any of them, so he paused to spy through the window, peeking at the cakes and pastries they were creating for service later that night. As a server, he’d plated their goodies for years. Magical metal boxes were always full of wonders when he arrived in the evening.
He dragged himself away after a couple of minutes. There was going to be a mountain of work piled up after four days off. He’d already taken the whole weekend off for Avery’s ceremony—in anticipation of being hungover, not in pain—then called out on Monday to rest a bit more. Tuesday and Wednesday were his days off. Normally. But after Monday, it was time to get caught up. He did feel a bit better after his reprieve. Hopefully he was in recovery mode and whatever illness was finally over.
Brett entered the small office situated beside Pierce’s larger one and eyed the heaping pile of invoices and notes lying in wait on his desk. He nearly collapsed into his office chair, already exhausted just looking at the mess. After a deep sigh, he busied himself organizing the madness. As the hours passed, the kitchen grew louder. The prep cooks always arrived around nine and filled the back of the house with their jokes, laughter, and music. It was a far cry from the near silence of the bakers.
Sometime later, the office door swept open and one of the prep guys bustled in. His eyes widened when he saw Brett there.
“Here already?” T-Bone asked as he sidled up and laid a newly delivered invoice onto Brett’s desk. He didn’t know why T-Bone was called T-Bone. He’d asked but the guy had just laughed and deflected. “I didn’t see you come in. Musta been hella early.”
“I need to leave early, so I came in early. Might be that way for the next few weeks or so,” Brett said.
“Gotchu. You hungry?”
The prep cooks made him a little something for lunch every day that he was in the office, but it was too early for that. They’d barely just arrived. “Nah, man. You don’t have to go to any trouble for me.”
“Pierce says we feed you. If you’re leaving early, then we gotta feed you early.”
“What do you mean? Pierce told you to feed me?”
“You don’t think we cook something for you out of the goodness of our hearts, do you?”
Brett’s cheeks warmed. “I figured you were just kissing up to the guy who handles your paychecks.”
“Yeah, there might be a little of that in there, too. Don’t fuck with my money, dude.” T-Bone chuckled. “So, hungry, or no? I could whip up some breakfast real quick, if you want.”
Brett considered if his stomach could handle anything. He’d barely eaten in days and if asked, he wasn’t sure he could remember what he’d managed to get down his throat. “Some scrambled eggs and toast, maybe?” That might be easy enough to digest.
“Easy peasy,” T-Bone said. He wiggled his eyebrows. “Want some meat?”
Brett snorted. He’d heard stories about the beta. “I don’t know if I want to answer that question.”
T-Bone laughed, his wide-open, easy grin showing off white teeth. “Ah, damn—you’re supposed to be the fun one, but I don’t see it!” He headed for the door. “Bacon? Sausage?”
“A little bacon, maybe. Extra crispy, please,” Brett murmured.
“You got it,” T-Bone said before he disappeared.
Brett sat a moment. Pierce had instructed the prep cooks to make him lunch? Why did that news cause his chest to tighten and make it harder to breathe? He got a free dinner every night he served, just like everyone else, so it’s not like it was outside the norm to be fed.
Only that lunch—it was just for him.
Or so it sounded.
I’m overthinking this shit. Let it go.
When T-Bone returned fifteen minutes later with a steaming plate in one hand and a set of utensils in the other, Brett eyed the guy. He’d been unable to let it go, as he’d told himself. “Did you guys do this for Avery?”
“Who?”
Brett scoffed. “Abraham. His real name’s Avery, remember?”
“Oh yeah, Abe,” T-Bone said.
Brett eyed him, awaiting his answer.
T-Bone frowned. “What? Cook for Abe while he was here in the office?”
“Avery. Yeah,” Brett said, accepting the plate and utensils from T-Bone.
“On occasion. Not every day, but then Pierce didn’t tell us to feed him. If we made ourselves something, we’d send him over a plate if there was extra, but it wasn’t exactly every time he was in the office.”
“So why did Pierce tell you to do it for me?”
T-Bone shrugged. “Man, I don’t know. I just do what the alpha boss man says.” He leaned on the doorframe on his way out. “Want some coffee?”
Brett lifted his metal water bottle. “I think I’ll just stick with this.”
“Cool, cool,” T-Bone said, and was soon gone.
Brett eyed the plate, his stomach rebelling a bit, but he needed to eat something. He tested a little of the eggs and nearly moaned at how good they were. T-Bone had his moments where he could be a bit of a jerk, but the guy knew how to cook. The lunches he brought were some of the best food Brett could remember eating, even better than the fancy dinners Chef and Maurice served the dining room every night. Why he wasn’t working the line, Brett wasn’t sure.
Slowly picking, the eggs went down okay. The toast, too. The bacon was a little harder to manage, but he got at least one piece down. Once done, he set the plate aside and got back to work. The rest of the morning went by in a blur, but he was thankful for that blur. It took his mind off his worries and soreness. He caught up on as much as he could without Pierce’s signature or input—and decided to call it a day. Eyeing the clock, he knew it would likely be another hour before the boss made an appearance, so he jotted down a quick note to let Pierce know what was left to do, which wasn’t much.
Before Brett could put the printed checks in the safe, Pierce swept in.
“Morning,” Pierce said, staring hard.
“Morning,” Brett said, diverting his gaze.
“Feeling better?”
“I’m great,” Brett fibbed. The office quickly filled with Pierce’s scent. His woodsy body wash was a delight. The man under it was even better. Brett’s stomach cramped mildly the second he’d inhaled the first bit of it. “I’ve got the deposit ready to be taken over to the bank and the vendor checks are all printed, ready for your signature. Payroll’s halfway done, too, but I can finish that tomorrow.” He shut the safe and handed the checks to Pierce instead. As soon as they were taken, he rose from the chair. “I’m about to head out.”
“Head out? It’s only eleven.”
“Technically, it’s my day off,” Brett snapped. “I only came in today because I called out on Monday. I didn’t want to get behind.”
“Thank you for that,” Pierce murmured.
“By the way, I came in at five, so that’s why I’m already done,” Brett replied, gathering the dirty plate, his water bottle, and keys.
“Why did you come in so early?”
Brett shrugged, avoiding Pierce’s gaze. “It’s quieter, and I knew there would be a lot to do. I might start coming in early on my office days, if that’s alright with you. I was a lot more productive.”
“Quieter? Or was it to avoid me?”
Brett’s gaze flicked to Pierce’s, but he quickly dragged it away. He forced a short chuckle to cover any reaction. “I’m not avoiding you.”
Pierce moved in close— too close —forcing Brett to look up. “You sure about that? It seems all you can do lately is run away when I walk into a room.”
Brett met Pierce’s questioning gaze, and his stomach clenched hard. He dropped the plate, and it shattered on the tiled floor, sending bits of china and leftover food over the surface as the fork and knife clanged as it clattered on top. Pierce grabbed his upper arms and led him into the office chair.
Pierce knelt in front, his gaze stern. “What’s going on with you, Brett?”
“Nothing.”
“Bullshit. If it’s impacting your work, I should know.”
Brett waved at the pile of invoices and checks ready to be signed. “It’s not impacting my work. As I just said, it’s all caught up.”
“How the fuck are you going to carry trays full of food Friday, Saturday, and Sunday nights when you can barely stand?”
Brett flinched, realizing he might not be able to—but he was going to, one way or another. His tips were the only thing keeping him from sinking underwater.
“Yeah. That’s what I thought,” Pierce said, sounding all too smug in his righteousness.
“I’ve been managing just fine. I’ll be fine this weekend, too.”
Pierce’s eyebrows drew together as he grew dangerously still. Annoyance radiated off him, too. “How long has this been going on?”
“Just a couple of weeks,” Brett fibbed. It was closer to six or seven months, give or take. He wasn’t exactly sure, if truth be told.
Pierce searched his face a moment. Brett felt like curling up into a little ball under the scrutiny. Curling up in Pierce’s lap sounded even better. That thought sent more spasms to his gut.
“You need to see a doctor.”
Brett scoffed. “Well, when I have the money, I will.” Fuck, why did I say that? Pierce didn’t need to know he was struggling financially. Especially when he had access to the restaurant’s bank accounts. Pierce barely trusted him as it was.
I cannot lose this job!
“Is that it?” Pierce frowned before he rose to his feet. “I’ll pay for the damned visit. Let’s go.”
Brett shook his head. “No.” There was no way he’d be indebted to Pierce. He barely made it as it was, between rent, bills, student loan payments, and bare necessities. He wouldn’t be able to repay the alpha—and then things would get really awkward between them. “I don’t need your charity.”
“I was serious when I mentioned a raise and backpay. You’ve been doing a great job, and you deserve it.”
Brett lifted a brow. “I’m glad you finally noticed.”
Pierce cocked his head to the side and lifted a brow of his own. “If you hadn’t been doing well, you wouldn’t still have the position, would you?”
Brett growled under his breath. Was it that hard to admit he was good at something?
“If it’s such a blow to your pride, we can take the bill out of the backpay I owe you.” Pierce searched his face. “Please.”
Brett considered that. Pierce was right, of course. He needed to find out what the hell was wrong as he clearly wasn’t as improved as he’d thought.
Pierce’s fierce expression softened. He took a step closer. “We can go right now. I’ll drive you myself.”
“No,” Brett spat. He didn’t need his hand held or Pierce in his business. “Consider what you think is fair compensation and once I have that in the bank, I’ll schedule an appointment.”
Pierce growled. “You are so muleheaded.”
“Just stop… please.” Brett rose unsteadily before walking past Pierce toward the door. “I’m going home and back to bed.”
Pierce jumped between Brett and the door. “This is ridiculous. I’m taking you to see a doctor right now.”
Who the fuck does he think he is? Brett glared, narrowing his eyes. He spread his legs apart to steady himself. “You can’t force me to go.”
Pierce’s jaw set . “Someone should … since you’re not taking care of yourself.”
Brett scowled, but another spasm twisted in his gut. Pierce moved closer, as if he sensed Brett’s pain. Brett bit back the rise of emotion seeing the worry in Pierce’s eyes. A sting came to the backs of his own. “What if…”
Pierce’s frown deepened.
“Never mind,” Brett muttered.
“No. Tell me,” Pierce said, his voice tender, not demanding.
That softness almost undid Brett then and there. He looked up into those golden eyes of Pierce’s and came close to unloading all of his worry and doubts. I’m up to my eyeballs in debt because of that last semester I had to pay for myself. What I make here doesn’t cover all of my expenses and that. If I’m really sick, I won’t be able to afford to pay the medical bills. I should look for another job with better pay and benefits, but leaving means…
It means…
Brett sighed inwardly.
It means I wouldn’t get to see you nearly every day.
Brett swallowed all that down, a bit stunned to realize the reason he was stuck in that job. It wasn’t a fear of the unknown. It was an inability to walk away from Pierce. How stupid was he? “It’s nothing. Really.”
Pierce grasped Brett’s arm, and he immediately had another cramp. Doubling over, he groaned. Pierce knelt with him, supporting him through it. Brett panted through the worst of it, but as always, it was over as fast as it came on. The pain ebbed, and he caught his breath.
“You want the truth? Here goes. The pain gets worse—when you’re near me.”
Pierce eyed him, clearly confused. “Bullshit…”
Brett shook his head, sitting back on his haunches. “I only feel pain like this when you’re close. I felt it before and at the ceremony. Again when you came to my apartment. I’ve been fine all morning—until you got here.”
Pierce scoffed. “Come on. That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Maybe I’m allergic to you…” When Pierce’s expression contorted into deeper disbelief, Brett amended that by adding, “Well, not you, but maybe your soap or shampoo… or something, I don’t know.” He frowned. “Alphas put off pheromones, right? Maybe yours are messing with my system.”
“No.” Pierce shook his head, unable to consider that prospect. “You’re a beta. My pheromones shouldn’t affect you at all.”
“Betas can scent pheromones.”
“No, they can’t,” Pierce snapped.
“I can,” Brett shot back. “I’ve always been able to.”
Pierce frowned. “Even so, I doubt I’m the cause of your pain.”
“Are you a doctor?”
“No, but you won’t go see one of those, so we might never know the truth.”
Brett scowled. “It only happens when you’re close. Something about you sets this off. I’ve felt fine for the last four days. Sore, but okay.” He shook his head, climbing to his feet. Brett ignored Pierce’s outstretched hand and once upright, dusted off his own on this thighs. “I’m going home. I’ll be back tomorrow morning at five and I’ll be gone by eleven or twelve. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t come into my office if you come down early. I can leave the paychecks in the safe ready for you to sign and hand out.”
He took a step before remembering the plate and the mess. Glancing down, he sighed.
“Go. I’ll clean it up,” Pierce said, his tone odd and clipped.
Brett looked at the man, sadness filling him. The ache within only intensified when he saw the tormented expression on Pierce’s face. Forcing one foot before the other, he forced himself to leave, hating that the source of his problem seemed to be the one man he wished he could be closer to. “I’m sorry.”
Pierce lifted his gaze, locking onto Brett’s. “Me, too.”
Brett rushed out of the kitchen and slid behind the wheel of his car. His cell rang before he could turn the engine on. Fishing it out, he saw Avery’s name across the screen and almost answered it.
He knew he should. His best friend in the entire world had just had a baby after he’d rushed out of their mating ceremony. But there would be questions if he picked up the phone. He wasn’t ready for another scolding about why he’d not gone to see a doctor.
Wincing, he hit silent and started the car.
He’d apologize to Avery and beg forgiveness once he felt better.
Before he lowered his phone, he shot off a quick text.
Congratulations, Papa! I know I should be there, but I’m still unwell and I don’t want to get you or the baby sick. I’m already feeling better. I’ll see you and the little nugget soon. Love you.
A text came before he set his phone down.
Call me!
Brett felt like an asshole for ignoring Avery, but he’d already fought with Pierce. He didn’t have the energy to ward off another attack. He dropped the phone and put the car in gear, ready to climb back in bed, on the verge of tears the entire time.