Chapter 22
Chase
Chase hurried into the house, desperate to escape the late afternoon heat. He didn’t bother to see if anyone else was home, just rushed into his bathroom—his was the only room with an en suite—and got cold water running in the sink.
Chase was too worn out to shower fully, but he wanted to wipe off some of the day.
He’d been getting irritated lately with the scents of all the students smothering him on campus.
Which didn’t make any fucking sense, because he was a fucking beta and it shouldn’t be affecting him at all, but it still helped to wash it off, even if it was all in Chase’s head.
He splashed water on his face first, rubbing it down to his neck, then grabbed blindly for a hand towel. He ran it under the water and lifted his head, breaking out into a curse as he jumped, “Jesus fuck!”
Spencer grinned at him in the mirror’s reflection. “Afternoon, Chasey.”
He was leaning against the doorjamb, holding a bag of his favorite protein chips, and he popped one in his mouth, managing to keep his grin as he chewed. He looked smug as all hell, which was a change from the abnormally subdued concern he’d been failing to hide the rest of the week.
Chase gave him a look as he held a hand to his heart, willing it to slow down. “I’m not going out tonight. You and Noah can stop asking.”
His roommates seemed to think that—after a week of moping—going to a party or five was going to pull Chase out of his funk, but Chase had no interest. It was Friday, and there was only one place he wanted to be. One person he wanted to see.
One person he was afraid to see.
“Your professor was just here, you know. Stalking you like a creep.”
It took longer than it should have for Spencer’s words to register. What he’d said was so unexpected that for a second, Chase had convinced himself his friend was speaking another language.
His professor.
The ache in Chase’s chest made it hard to breathe, but he managed. Barely. He shut off the water, turning to face Spencer. “He was?”
Spencer popped another chip into his mouth. “I told him what’s what.”
“Oh, Jesus.” That could mean so many things in Spencer’s world, and Chase was now worried about all of them.
“He’s really got it bad for you, huh?”
“It’s … good sex.” The words felt wrong coming out of Chase’s mouth, but he’d been repeating the mantra for so long that he didn’t know how to stop. It’s just good sex. Intense sex. Sex, sex, sex.
But it seemed like, for once, Spencer wasn’t letting him off the hook with that. He cocked his head. “Is that it? Just good sex?”
“No.” Chase ran a hand over his face, shaking the water drops off afterward. “I don’t know.” The silence was deafening, and his mouth moved without permission. “He wants to date me.”
“Isn’t that what you were already doing? Even with the secrecy, it was kind of obvious.” Spencer laughed, not unkindly. “You spent his rut with him, Chasey.”
Obvious. Of course. Chase’s relationship with Killian seemed to be an obvious thing to everyone but him. Like how Killian had thought Chase should just know that Killian had been growing feelings for him. And apparently Spencer and probably Noah thought the same thing.
But Chase didn’t know. How did anyone know?
When Chase had been too little to have better sense, he’d asked his nanny why his parents didn’t love him like his friends’ parents seemed to love them. His nanny had told him that of course his parents loved him. All parents loved their children.
But that had been a lie, one it had taken Chase almost his whole life to figure out. Trying to parse through why the love his parents felt for him didn’t feel like love at all.
And why did everything have to come back to them? Fuck them. Fuck his dad’s narcissistic self-interest. Fuck his mom’s enabling and her cheek kisses that never touched skin. This was about Killian. Chase and Killian.
Standing seemed suddenly a little too difficult to manage, and Chase slid down until he hit the floor. Spencer, being Spencer, sat down across from him in the doorway. Chase rested his head against the wall. “How do you do it, Spence? Put your feelings out there over and over?”
It wasn’t like Spencer was proclaiming his love to random hookups over and over, but he was still … open. With his friends. With almost anyone. He never hid how he was feeling, good or bad, even when people wanted him to.
Spencer shrugged. “Dunno. Only way I know how to be.”
“Doesn’t it hurt?”
“Oh yeah.” Spencer nodded. “But feelings get hurt either way, don’t they?
Whether you bottle them up or not.” He reached into his chip bag, then paused, giving Chase an incredulous look.
“Dude, are you looking to me for relationship advice? Please tell me you’re not.
I’ll call Noah in. He’s, like, normal about this shit. ”
Against all odds, Chase found himself smiling. “I love you, Spencer.”
He didn’t know why he could say it to a friend and not to …
other people. Didn’t know what held him back, other than a fear so bone-deep it hardly registered in his brain.
Like it was so much a part of him—this anxiety over what would happen if they named things that had been unspoken until now—that Chase hadn’t even known it was there.
And he’d fucked everything up because of it.
Spencer looked positively moony. “Aww, I love you too.”
“My parents don’t, I don’t think.” Chase took a deep breath. Let it out. Let the truth out. “They don’t love me. They never have.”
Chase hadn’t spoken to his father since that night. He’d left his number blocked, and he’d blocked his mother’s while he was at it. It was novel, being the one doing the ignoring. He probably wouldn’t be able to keep it up forever, but it was working for him for now.
Spencer’s response was instantaneous, without an ounce of hesitation. “Then they’re selfish, shitty assholes who don’t deserve you.”
They were only words, but they loosened something in Chase. Something Killian had already wiggled free with his tenderness and care and protection. A tightness Chase had been living with all his life.
He let his eyes fall shut, let himself breathe easily as he admitted, “I don’t know how to just … be loved by someone. I don’t know why it’s so scary.”
Spencer scoffed. “You’ve been loved. We love you.”
“It’s different. You don’t have any … expectations.”
“And does this professor expect you to be something you’re not?” Spencer sounded pissed off by his own question, like if the answer was yes he’d jump up and go hunt Killian down for putting too much pressure on Chase.
His anger almost had Chase smiling. “No. But when I picture him with someone long-term, it’s someone … put together. Someone who knows who they are and what they want.” Chase opened his eyes, raising his brows at his friend. “I don’t even know what I want to be when I grow up.”
Spencer waved a hand. “Who the fuck says you have to? You can grow together and shit. That’s what those relationship things are supposed to be for.” He suddenly grinned, his eyes full of mischief. “Plus, I already know what you should be.”
“You do?”
Spencer set his bag of chips down, dusting his hands. He leaned forward, the picture of solemnity. “You should be a therapist,” he said, each word deliberate.
“What?”
Chase honestly couldn’t tell if Spencer was joking. Except for the fact that it was almost always clear when Spencer was joking.
So he was serious.
“You listen,” Spencer told him, frank and open. “You always listen to me, no matter how much I gripe. And you’re like that with everyone. You have this way—you’re present without being pushy. You put people at ease.”
To some extent, they were words Chase had heard before—he’d been told he was a good listener lots of times, actually, by various people—but something about the blunt compliment made it one of the nicest things anyone had ever said to Chase.
Still … a therapist?
Chase nibbled at his lower lip, considering. “But … I have my own issues. Like, a lot of them.”
“Oh yeah.” Spencer nodded. “You definitely need therapy, Chasey. But everybody does. My school counselor once told me every therapist has a therapist, and that if they don’t, you should find a different therapist. Plus, betas do really well in that field. Not as susceptible to wonky pheromones.”
Chase could only blink at him. It sounded … really fucking tempting, actually. Or at the very least, a direction he could look into. He hadn’t even had that much before now.
Spencer started laughing, punching a hand into the air.
“Damn, I am killing it at advice today! I should be a fucking lifestyle guru or something.” He danced in place for a moment, contorting his torso this way and that while staying seated, and generally looking so ridiculous Chase couldn’t help grinning at him.
Then Spencer grimaced. “Can we get off your bathroom floor now? My ass is getting numb.”
“Yeah, man.” Chase stood and held out a hand, pulling Spencer to standing.
It was clear neither of them felt up for video games or a movie or any sort of distraction yet. They ended up on Chase’s bed, both of them on their backs with their hands folded on their stomachs, staring at the ceiling.
After a few minutes, Noah entered the room, took one look at them, and crawled onto the bed with them. He shuffled close to Chase, nuzzling his head on Chase’s shoulder to scent mark him wordlessly.
“No Eli tonight?” Chase asked. He’d thought after his last refusal to go partying, Noah might have decided to stay with his omega.
Noah folded his hands on his stomach, mirroring Chase’s and Spencer’s positions. “Thought it might be better to stay home tonight.”
He and Spencer had both been doing that since Chase had come back from Killian’s, too numb and shell-shocked to share with them what had happened. They’d been sticking close and supporting him without prying. Waiting for him to open up. Just like Killian had apparently been waiting.
Chase let out a long breath, letting his body relax and sink into the mattress. In some ways he felt lighter than he had all week—it was weird the release a few truths spoken out loud could provide—but he wasn’t exactly floating on air.
He was surrounded by the scents of spiced tea and ocean air, and they were comforting, but they weren’t leather and cherry. They weren’t the pheromones Chase had come to associate with everything good in the world.
Chase missed his alpha.
The missing hurt, like an ache he couldn’t get rid of. Even when he slept, he felt it—he’d wake up in the middle of the night in pain and unable to figure out why, until he was alert enough to remember what had happened. The way he’d left Killian looking so devastated.
Chase knew it was on him to fix it. He just had to … say things. Admit things. Ask for things.
It should have been easy, but it wasn’t. But that was how it was, and maybe beating himself up about it wasn’t helping anything. Maybe he just needed to admit it was hard and admit he was a little broken and do it anyway.
“What are you thinking?” Spencer asked. “Dreaming about your stalker professor?”
“I’m thinking that it was easier with you guys. Letting you in.”
Noah snorted a laugh. “Yeah, but we also kind of just … latched onto you after orientation. And there wasn’t any pressure for declarations or any of that, so we had time to worm our way in without you noticing. Your professor’s too lovesick for that. Poor guy.”
“How would you know?” Chase asked. “Did you have a chat with him too?”
“Eli told me,” Noah said easily. “They had a meeting. Apparently it was super pathetic, and now Eli’s given his full approval.”
“And that’s his official diagnosis?” Chase asked. “Lovesick?”
Just saying it out loud made the ache in Chase’s chest worse. Or maybe better?
“Oh yeah,” Spencer chimed in. “Lovesick for sure. Guy almost bit my head off when I called you handsome.” He cackled. “He’s gonna be fun to tease.”
Chase smiled at the thought—Spencer and Killian in a room together. Noah too. All the people Chase cared about. Meeting. Getting to know each other.
Chase could have that. He could have everything he was too afraid to say he wanted, if he could just admit it to the one person who needed to hear it most.
But maybe it wouldn’t hurt to practice a little first.
“I like him,” Chase said, directing his words to the ceiling. “I really, really like him. Maybe even more than like.”
It was definitely more than like, but Chase was allowing himself a few baby steps here.
Spencer rested his head on Chase’s other shoulder, and Noah patted at Chase’s chest. “We know, bud. We know.”