One Last Chance (Venusverse #1)

13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Dayton

Who would’ve seen that in just a couple of months, I'd become a family man?

Feels like it, anyway. And it almost scares me how much I enjoy it. The after work dates with Rowland have become something I look forward to every week.

On the weekends, which I would usually spend just chilling at home, we go for a little trips with Mac. The little kid has grown on me. He calls me Daydon and has the most infectious laughter.

Mina…well, Rowland tries to have her warm up to me. That mission isn’t exactly bearing any fruits just yet, but I’m nothing but patient. Families aren’t perfect, and it is almost scary how quickly Rowland’s starts to feel like my own.

Today worried me—parents can be temperamental, and Mom especially can be a little hard to handle for some people—but it turns out I had no reason to stress.

Rowland holds my hand while we sit next to each other at the table, warm afternoon sun shining on us. Ma and Mom sit across from us, while Rowland’s mother is at the helm of the table with Mac on her lap. For the last ten minutes, he’s been struggling with the little puzzle toy Mom brought him as a gift. I think he might lose it if he doesn’t unhook the two parts of the mechanism soon.

The last chair is empty. I glance behind us, where Mina sits under the tree with some of her school friends that happened to be hanging out in the park. Better for her to be with them instead of being forced to sit here and ignore us, I think.

Rowland and I share a knowing glance when he notices where I’m looking.

“I really wish we brought Momo. We should, next time,” Mom says.

Mac perks up. “Yes, yes! Bring the doggie. Ugh, I wish Dad would let me get a dog,” he says, pouting while trying to tug the two metal pieces apart.

I think this puzzle is way beyond his skill level, Mom. But it’s the thought that counts.

“Maybe when you’re a little older, alright?” Rowland says with a chuckle.

“He likes his order of things. The calm, presentable atmosphere. A dog would put a damper on that. I’m surprised you even had the kids, really,” I tease him with a smirk.

Our parents all chuckle, while Rowland flashes me a fake angry frown.

“His father was just like that. Always precise, very particular. Don’t get me started on what happened if I dared to dust in his study. You moved one thing by an inch and he’d go ballistic,” Rowland’s mother says, rolling her eyes. There’s a hint of sadness in her voice, making me appreciate the sight of my mothers sitting there together, happy.

“Naya has her way of doing things, too,” Ma says, receiving a scowl from Mom in return.

“I’m simply a wild soul,” Mom says, spreading her arms out theatrically.

“I can tell you are, dear. You certainly have that aura about you,” his mother notes politely, but Ma and I share a suppressed grin, glad she seems to get the hint.

Mac’s frustrated shriek stops our conversation. “Dad! Ugh! Sh—” he almost swears but stops himself at the last moment, slapping the puzzle against the table and puffing out his cheeks.

Rowland laughs. “Alright, that is enough for now. How about we try to solve this once we get home? Take a little break, then it might get easier, okay?” he says, ruffling Mac’s short hair. Sitting on his grandma’s lap with his arms crossed over his chest, the little boy nods before letting out a frustrated huff.

“It’s almost five o’clock. I promised Sandra I would drop that dress by her on the way back,” Rowland’s mother says after she checks her watch. She lifts Mac up and stands him next to her. “You didn’t want me to watch the children this weekend, did you?”

He shakes his head. “No, we’ll be fine. Bean, how about you go tell your sister to say goodbye to her friends? We should get going,” he says, presenting it to Mac like it is a mission of great importance. He makes an exaggerated salute gesture and runs off, as energetic as ever. “If she’s talking back or telling you off, tell her that’s two more weeks of no console!” Rowland quickly shouts after him.

He turns and I notice Ma looking at us with an unusually soft expression. “Ah, you have a sweet little boy, really. Reminds me of Day. Kids really are the most charming at this age. I miss it. No offense,” she adds quickly, aimed at me.

“Ouch,” I reply sarcastically. While Rowland chuckles and squeezes my hand, I don’t dare meet his eyes. That nagging thought enters my mind again—the thing I’ve been wanting to ask him. That’s been eating me up more than it should. Kids .

Sure, it’s early. It’s super duper early to even talk about stuff like that.

Furthermore, it could ruin the good thing we have right now. Things are pretty close to perfect. It’s not like I am foaming at the mouth at the thought of Rowland knocking me up, but every time he tucks Mac in bed so gently, or goes crazy playing with him with no restraint, my heart pulses with this dull ache. Longing. Jealousy, even.

It’s stupid. I’m being stupid.

“Well,” Rowland’s mother says, standing up while clasping her hands together. “I shall head out then. It was a pleasure to see both of you ladies again.” She shares handshakes and brief hugs with my moms and then comes to embrace me.

“Drive safe.”

“Thank you, I will.”

Rowland kisses her on the cheek. “I’ll speak to you later.”

“We should get going too, I suppose,” Ma says after sharing a brief glance with Mom. We all get up and continue the cascade of goodbyes. And just in time, Mac runs back to our table, followed by Mina, who, as always, has a barely metaphorical dark cloud of ‘look at me and I’ll kill you’ hanging above her head.

She passes me without even acknowledging my existence, which has been our preferred way of dealing with things for now, and produces a fairly polite goodbye to my parents.

“Fancy joining us tonight?” Rowland asks while he puts his hand on my thigh in the car and squeezes gently. I’ve pretty much lived in his house almost every weekend recently, and I can’t complain about a thing. To wake up next to that sleepy, gruff face of his feels like a blessing every single time.

I smile at his innocent, hopeful tone. As if he doesn’t already know the answer. Mr. Tease . “How could I say no?”

?

“You know, every time you invite me to spend the night here, I naively expect to actually get some sleep, but for some strange reason, I never seem to get any rest,” I say, staring at the ceiling while playing with Rowland’s hand as I lay my head against his shoulder.

He hugs me from the back, pressing his nose into my short hair. “ You seduced me .”

“Oh, it is the omega’s fault, of course!”

Rowland chuckles. With a swift motion, he slips from under me and gets on all fours, kneeling over me, playfully grabbing my chin. “Do you deny it?” He looks so handsome in the mornings. His hair all ruffled, making him look younger, and somehow less dignified than his usual professional self.

“Moments like these…I refuse to believe you’re an old man.”

“I haven’t had a sex drive like this since I was in my twenties, true. Though, looking at my situation logically,” he says, narrowing his eyes with fake pensiveness, “the only possible contributing factor that could be at fault for this is…you. You and your lovely,”—he kisses my neck, pecking at it slowly while trailing toward my chest—” lovely scent. And your gorgeous, warm, inviting skin.”

I barely hold in a moan when he tugs at my nipple with his teeth.

“I think your rut might be coming, Rowe,” I mumble, feeling my eyelids get heavy with pleasure. The idea itself stirs something in my stomach. It sends heat towards my cheeks. His pheromones have been more rich in a way, ever since a few days ago.

“Do you think you can handle me?”

“You fucked me into oblivion two weeks ago when I was in heat. I guess I’d only be fair if I…” My eyes close shut with the sensation of Rowland’s lips brushing against my cock. It was only morning wood before. Now it is most certainly something else. Something that won’t go away so easily.

“You begged so nicely then.” He keeps going, teasing me in the most insufferable, maddening way as he brushes his tongue against my tip before pulling away. I dig my fingers into his hair in an attempt to have him go further, but it’s no good. “The image of you trembling underneath me, begging for my cock… I think it’s forever etched into my mind. Not to mention I get a jolt through me every time someone calls me Mr. Hall at work, you know? That’s a real problem. You did that to me.”

If I weren’t this close to begging him to finally put me in his mouth, I would have laughed. Unfortunately, some semblance of sanity somehow shines through my mind. “Mac could wake up at any moment,” I whisper, gulping the excessive saliva pooling in my mouth.

“So you don’t want me to keep going?” Rowland looks up at me from down between my legs, suggestively raising a brow, and I swear that the man licking the tip of my cock right now has no semblance to the mature, polite, serious Mr. Hall I thought he was.

This bastard is nothing but a horny, wicked troublemaker sent to destroy me.

I’m about to full on beg him to take me in his mouth to the hilt before a knock on the door makes both of us jolt. Remembering to lock the bedroom door in the evening has become pretty necessary since I’ve been spending time here.

“Mac wants breakfast,” Mina’s monotone, borderline annoyed voice sounds muffled from behind.

Rowland pulls away, sitting up, and lets out a sigh while I flash him a look of pure desperation.

“Could you be a big sister and help him, please?”

“He’s asking for you. I’m not his parent,” she says sharply and stomps off.

I let my head fall back into the pillow with a painful groan. “I’m sorry,” Rowland says as he crawls up to me to give me a kiss on the cheek. “I really am.”

Opening my eyes briefly to steal a quick look at him, he makes the exact apologetic puppy face I expected to see.

“I’m starting to think getting blue-balled is a part of being a parent,” I mutter and hope he can tell from my tone that I’m not angry. Before he responds, I pull myself up to sit against the headboard and pull the blanket up.

“You learn fast,” Rowland says with a bitter smirk. He’s already sitting off the side of the bed, getting dressed.

I can’t help but dig at him a little more, to tease him one last time. “Go on, I’ll be downstairs as soon as this little problem goes away.”

After he stands and adjusts his pants, Rowland twists at his waist to look back at me. “I’ll make it up to you later. I promise.” He flashes those sultry eyes of his at me.

As he’s walking out of the room, I shout, “Not helping!” and hear him laugh on his way through the hall. Now painfully alone, I close my eyes again, and after briefly considering just jerking myself off, conclude that letting that sexual tension fizzle out and fester for Rowland to deal with later will probably be much more enjoyable.

I think my hardest about dead puppies and old people to kill my hard-on as fast as possible before getting up to take a quick shower. When I go to my drawer to get some clean clothes, it occurs to me and I pause.

I have a drawer at Rowland’s place.

The reality of it hits me. It’s pretty much one step away from living together, right? How many of my relationships went so far as to have a drawer? Two, maybe?

I smile to myself, my chest filling with joy like I’m some giddy teenager.

By the time I walk out of the bedroom, I’m not even mad about our ruined morning frolicking and I instead look forward to seeing Mac force Rowland to cook pancakes again because that’s what that boy has been wanting to eat for the past two weeks straight.

Rowland looks so useless and adorable when trying to cook with him, all flustered because of the mess.

I get so lost in that dreamy image that I stumble into Mina as I walk out of the bedroom. Stopping just in time to not knock her over, I put my hands up and give her an apologetic smile.

Of course, I don’t get even the bare basic respect. Instead, I see her crunch her nose briefly, like she’s got a whiff of something nasty before she rolls her eyes and mutters under her breath. “Staying over again…” she says, I think , before continuing on her path to most likely spend the day locked up in her bedroom again.

Every other day, I would’ve brushed it off. Hell, I would feel strange if she suddenly was all nice and friendly toward me. But there is something about this morning—something about the pure happiness and contentment that I feel with everything in my life besides her right now—that makes me pause. Makes me want to act. Do something to maybe push this frustrating situation toward some sort of resolution.

I hear Rowland and Mac laugh downstairs in the kitchen and think about how nice it would be if it were all of us there. It would definitely take a lot of stress off his shoulders. No matter how good Rowland is at hiding how much his strained relationship with Mina hurts him, I know it bothers him more than he would ever let on. And of course it does—he’s her father. He’s the best father to his kids that he can be.

Tightening my jaw and balling my fist, I glance toward the staircase before going the opposite direction, further down the hall to where the kids’ rooms are.

Mina, while trying to be and feeling like the most unique individual on planet earth like any teenager does, is fitting right into most of the basic stereotypes. Her door, painted dark purple, has a yellow ‘DO NOT ENTER’ sign over it, and loud pop music almost constantly vibrates from the inside of her room.

Trying to fight an amused smirk, I knock. There’s no response for a while. I knock again and hear moving fabric. Then the music stops. “Leave me alone,” she shouts.

“I’m coming in,” I announce, and open the door before she can react. When I do, a potent scent of expensive candles that smell like lab-made candy hits my nose. There are clothes all over the floor like she was going through them and gave up halfway through, and a few more new posters on her walls than the last time I got a brief look into her little cave.

Mina sits on her bed, phone in hand, and gives me the meanest scowl she can muster.

“What?” she snaps. She could do—and had done before—much better when it comes to the intensity of her unpleasantness, which leads me to believe that me being in her space makes her a little less confident than usual. Good. I can definitely use the advantage.

I could use any advantage, really. Lord help me.

I make only one step in before leaning against the wall with my shoulder. Maybe a chat from someone who isn’t her dad is exactly what this girl needs. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” I say slowly, thoughtfully. Even if she’s intrigued, she keeps that frown on her face and lips narrow into a straight line. She doesn’t respond, so I continue, “Must be tiring always acting like this, no?”

Her frown deepens. In a weird way, she resembles Rowland more when her eyes darken and her cheeks puff out ever so slightly.

“I can guarantee you it isn’t worth it.”

“What do you know?” she says, words loaded with an irrational amount of irritation. “You’re just a stupid omega,” she adds, muttering so quietly I think she doesn’t really want me to hear her.

A corner of my mouth rises. “Am I? Well, so are you,” I say, and watch the color completely drain out of her face. She parts her lips, staring at me without blinking for a few good seconds.

“Wh…what?” she almost whispers.

It’s been eating at me for the past two, three weeks. At first, I talked myself out of it, of course. It was ridiculous. I was seeing things. But then the more and more little things I’ve noticed, the more sure of my insane conspiracy theory I became. And her reaction right now is the last confirmation I needed.

“Not that stupid, hm?” Not the most mature thing to do, but I can’t help a little smugness. “I do wonder how you made your test results show as beta, though. Well, even in my day, there were talks going around about ways to muddle the test so that it comes back inconclusive or even give false positive readings…and I guess these days there is a lot more information out there, so you probably found a way. But the fact itself that you would think about doing it preemptively, like you knew , is the fascinating thing.” I use a low, neutral voice because I can imagine how hard this is for her to hear.

I feel a lot of sympathy, too. Even without understanding the anti-venus garbage her mom must be feeding Mina, I could empathize with the feelings of coming to terms with your second gender. Some people claim they didn’t realize, but looking back, I also always knew, somewhere deep down, what I was. Even long before I got my tests or presented in any way. Just like I always deep down knew I liked men.

“H-How would you…?” She can’t even finish the sentence before her voice quivers. Mina bites down on her bottom lip, darting her eyes across the floor in panic. “You’re wrong. No! You’re wrong, an-and…it’s not true,” she mumbles, shaking her head.

I narrow my brows, sighing deeply.

How deep in self denial and self hatred is this poor girl?

“You’re too young and you haven’t had your heat yet. So you don’t have a scent, but you’re starting to recognize pheromones of people around you. Like mine, for example. A pretty unusual smell. Most people are definitely not fans of it, believe me,” I say with a little self-deprecating chuckle. If it weren’t for Rowland, I would still be self-conscious about it. “Neither are you, as I’ve noticed. It’s kind of hard to hide a split-second, subconscious reaction to something like that.”

She can’t deny it. I’ve seen her try to hide her disgust and discomfort the time I spent here when it was my heat and I was hormonal; my pheromones out of control with lust. She sensed it then. Just as she smelled my pheromones as they rolled out of the bedroom this morning after Rowland wound me up in bed.

It’s normal to be adjusted, and sometimes even ‘blind’ to pheromones of one’s family, which made my scent stand out even more.

“You’re lying!” she blurts out suddenly and stands up from her bed. If she was shocked before, now her gear has switched into full on counter strike.

No fawn or flight here.

“Your dad should know, Mina. How long do you think you can hide this—to run from this—and what benefit do you think it will have?” I genuinely try to get to her. Unfortunately, that seems to fire her up even more.

Mina makes a couple of heavy steps toward me, trembling hands balled into fists, and gives me a sharp, almost feverish glare that is unyielding. She almost looks like some rabid animal that’s been run into a corner. Just waiting for the hand to come a little closer to strike.

“You won’t tell him. You can’t,” she muffles the threat through her clenched teeth, knowing we’re standing by the open door and Rowland could hear if she’s too loud.

“It’s not my place to, no,” I admit, and that seems to make her tense shoulders ease a little. Running to Rowland to tell him would have been a sure way to lose any kind of relationship with Mina forever. And consequently, maybe even with him. “But you should. You have to. Your dad is doing everything in his power to get to you, and of course he can’t when you’re not even honest about something so innate to you. With him, with yourself, in therapy…”

Her expression grows more hostile again. There is something dangerous flickering behind her eyes, like a can of gasoline waiting to explode. I can almost see her thought process, how she’s evaluating how much of a danger I am now to her secret and to that little bubble of lies that’s her life.

“You won’t tell me what to do. You won’t do anything.”

Threats again, huh? “Or what?” I ask calmly.

I don’t see that I’ve poked the wild animal and kicked the can of gasoline at the same time until it’s too late.

The slap comes seemingly before my eyes can send the message of what happened to the brain. A loud yelp follows, loud enough to ensure Rowland hears it downstairs. I’m so paralyzed by what I just saw that I stand there, my veins running with ice, while Mina lands on the bed, holding her cheek. Her eyes teary and red, she recoils from me while protecting her face.

I don’t blink or even breathe. She just slapped herself in front of me. She did it, with resolution, like some sort of last ditch effort in the face of certain death, and she’s in it to stick with it and act her ass off.

Rowland runs into the open door, poking his head in with wide eyes.

“What happened?!” he asks, but I barely hear his voice. My brain is short-circuiting, my body unresponsive after seeing a little girl do something like that.

When I don’t respond, Rowland hurries to Mina who whimpers and cowers on the bed.

“W-we argued and he sl-slapped me, Daddy,” she sobs. As Rowland bends over her with his back to me, for a split second she meets my eyes, and her gaze is a response to my question. You know what now , it says.

Finally breaking out of the trance I was in, I step back, causing Rowland to sharply turn to me. He’s confused, distraught. So much so it sends a jolt through my heart. There’s no screaming or accusing. But that means nothing. The realization hits me like a battering ram.

A realization that there’s no walking this back.

“I…I didn’t,” I mutter breathlessly, even knowing it means nothing. “Rowe, I didn’t…I didn’t touch her.” My voice cracks in the middle. No matter how confident I am in what is the truth, I can’t help but feel this immense weight that lands on me when I have to say something like that. The fact I ever have to kills me.

“Mina?” He turns to her again, trying to calm her, but she doesn’t let on. She shakes her head. Rowland whispers something and she nods rapidly, sobbing. “I— Can you just…just wait outside?” he asks, sounding somber and low.

Gulping, I give a nod he can’t even see and stumble out of the door. I make it a few steps before leaning against the wall, staring at my feet on the ground blankly. Whether Mina realizes the full extent and power of what she did or not, she won. She stumbled upon the one and only situation that can be solved by only one way.

I wait in the hallway for I don’t know how long. My heart pounds inside my ears. My stomach twists. I feel like on the verge of a panic attack but I keep it together to be able to talk to Rowland when he comes out. The fear of how that conversation will go gnaws at me so much I have to close my eyes and set a low whistle to calm down.

Breathing slowly, I take in the comforting scent of his pheromones wafting through the air and that finally does it.

Just in time, I hear the door click. I turn sharply, finding Rowland standing by Mina’s now closed door with his hand on the handle before he inhales and finally faces me. I don’t know what to do or say. His expression is…fragmented. Filled with emotions and shadows mingling together.

“You know I would never touch her,” I say desperately, as desperately and hopelessly as I feel. I step closer, reaching for him, but midway through I pull back.

Rowland nods, looking down for a moment. “I know you wouldn’t.”

And there it is. We both know it. We both think the same thing. He knows I would never hurt him or his children, that I love him. I know it. And yet…his daughter claims I did. Before— beyond —me or our love, Rowland is a parent. Even without kids, I understand the severity of that. Just like I know my mothers would not hesitate a moment to trust me and stand by me if I accused a stranger of hurting me, even a stranger they love, and just as I know I would be the same were it to happen to my child, Rowland has no choice but to take Mina’s side. There is no choice .

Perhaps even if he knows deep down that she’s lying.

My heart feels like it’s being ripped out of my chest. Once my eyes begin to water and Rowland’s distraught gaze refuses to meet me, I know I have to do my best to make this as painless for him as I can.

“Al-alright. I will go.” It’s like those words don’t even belong to me. Someone else is saying it. Must be. Rowland doesn’t respond—because he knows, and because he’s the one in the impossible position.

You’re an adult, Dayton. It’s your turn to do what needs to be done.

This isn’t like all the times before. This isn’t some stupid break up over a misunderstanding or a difference. It’s an obstacle beyond our control. Beyond our wants and needs. There’s no going over it, around it, no avoiding or ignoring it.

“I’ll just…take my phone and stuff before… Yeah.” It takes all the willpower I have to walk past him without breaking down.

“Day,” Rowland whispers, his voice so weak and broken I want to throw up.

I keep going, right into the bedroom, where I gather all the important stuff. I leave the clothes in his drawer and my toiletries—there is no way I can make it longer than this before losing it. I need to go. I have to do the right thing and leave before making it harder for us.

“It’s okay, Rowe,” I mutter at the top of the stairs, my back to Rowland, while barely keeping my voice steady. I hear his rugged breaths behind me. “You’re a good father,” I assure him, hoping it will make it at least a little easier for him, knowing I don’t hold it against him. “That’s what I loved about you.”

That’s why I’ve been dying to ask you to maybe be the father of my child one day.

I rush down the stairs, feeling like the world is collapsing around me.