Four months later #3
The only issue is that Bay does not know everything about my private life, because I could have slept with other people as well, nine years have passed now, almost ten since we broke up, and during that time I could have had casual flings or simple hookups, but he does not know that I never had any.
Maybe I could tell him? The only problem is that the topic is sensitive and the moment I open it we will circle back to the stalker again.
I turn and glance at him. He is wearing black leather pants and a black tank top. His hair is trimmed slightly over the temple but tied in a ponytail at the nape of his neck. I notice a few thin earrings along the rim of his left ear. He is looking at the wall instead of at me.
I think about it. The fact that he accepts my potentially promiscuous past feels bittersweet.
On one hand it is genuinely decent and honest of him, and on the other there’s a part of me that wants him to be jealous and possessive and to call me a whore and grab my hair and bite into my neck gland. He should be furious, disgusted.
Label me a fucking, little omega, slutting around in the woods.
But he loves me… so he does not do it.
He has not been with anyone else. He could restrain himself, and I could not. My omega nature, my heats, were a harsh test of my strength.
I want to hear him demand an apology from me, to feel that humiliation, to feel as dirty as I actually feel, and to beg him on my knees for forgiveness, but that twisted little part of me stands completely alone in that desire, because Bay still wants me no matter what and that is what matters to me most.
It is wonderful. I love him with the love of someone who cannot love himself right now, desperately, frantically.
So even though something inside me is boiling, I change the subject.
I lean against the table and gesture toward the hallway.
"Which room would you like to live in? I sleep in the upstairs room on the right, the one on the left is pretty small but you can squeeze in a bed and a desk if you try, and the one downstairs…
Jared used it before he moved out. But since someone died in that room, I am not expecting you to take it. "
I realize I am rambling and lace and unlatch my fingers in a nervous gesture.
Bay watches me the whole time, and that calm on his face is the same calm he has developed over this past decade, something he never had before.
When we were teenagers, his face was much more expressive, showing emotions freely.
Now it resembles a kind of mask that reveals only the bare minimum, with emotions showing mostly in his eyes and eyebrows, less often in his mouth.
Despite that, we have an additional channel, something that lets us read each other’s real emotions, that strange connection we always had, even if I never fully knew how to use it.
Yet it seems so much more palpable now. The Bond.
Bay seemed to sense it better, and I always thought it was a small but real fragment of what a true Bond between True Mates must feel like.
"I think I will take the room where someone died," Bay says in this particular tone, a blend of amusement and irony.
"Of course," I answer and grab one of his suitcases, the smallest one, and head toward the room while Bay follows with the rest.
When he passes me I realize he is still on suppressants, his scent is nonexistent, and I catch only the smell of his shower gel and laundry detergent, but it is different from the one I sensed on the stalker.
I set the suitcase on the floor and straighten up, gesturing toward the wardrobe.
"Jared cleared everything out except for a few of Tommy’s blankets; you can put your things in."
"Thanks. And how is he doing? Your cousin?"
I sigh. "His story is unusual, but I will tell you another time. For now let’s get some food, I haven’t eaten anything yet."
Bay nods and we return to the kitchen.
I start preparing breakfast and he asks if he should help, but I refuse.
It feels so strange to be with him again in the same room in this domestic atmosphere. Bay sits at the table and checks his phone but puts it away almost immediately and his eyes settle on me in silence.
I prepare a few sandwiches, two fried eggs and some toast, set everything on the table, and he simply says, "Thank you, Alex."
We start eating, and I see something building in him, I see him preparing to say something but hesitating, maybe not wanting to ruin the mood?
From time to time he sets the sandwich down, sits in thought for a moment, then resumes eating.
"I see you’re bothered. Is there something you want to tell me? Ask me?"
"There is something. Eugene Hanson is still interested in me, and he may have acquired some… evidence suggesting I might have had something to do with the death of his grandsons."
I sit there with a half-chewed bite of sandwich in my mouth.
He said it. I have the opening. This is the moment when I can finally ask him.
Ever since my conversation with Dereck that thought about Bay’s involvement never fully left my mind, lingering somewhere in the background of my thoughts. What happened to those boys?
"And did you?"
Our eyes meet.
Bay’s face goes still, like carved from stone.
"There were too many lies and omissions between us all these years, Alex, and I did not tell you many things because I did not want you to live burdened by that kind of knowledge that might have criminal implications."
I snort. "Just tell me, Bay, you know I am the last person who would condemn you."
The words rush out of me as I clench my fists.
"I killed them all."
Wow. I expected it, but hearing it delivered so coldly and decisively sends a chill down my spine.
Bay really did change. Do I like it?
"All of them?"
A slow nod.
"Matt? Kit?"
A nod.
"Doug? Neville?"
A nod.
"Rob, Vin?"
Yet another nod.
My emotions rise and rise and then gather into a single point and one word comes out of my mouth.
"Good!"
Then I lift the piece of bread to my lips and start eating as if nothing happened.
I decide, I like it.
The Hansons are the last people on earth I could care about.
Their lives have no value to me, and maybe that sounds horrible, but that is the truth, and I had far more guilt surrounding Oswald.
He was just a stupid young alpha who made the horrible mistake of coming here without taking into consideration how powerful his rut could be.
They were scum, hardened criminals, rapists and attempted murderers.
Bay returns to eating as well. We sit in silence for a moment, both of us chewing our sandwiches.
"So how do you know Eugene still has his eye on you? It’s been so many years."
Bay hesitates. "From Ennio."
I lift my brows.
"Oh. Right. He’s got connections in the police and pretty much everywhere."
"He told me that one of the guys who helped stall the case against me back when the Hansons fell off the cliff, ran into Eugene in town and recognized him. He said Eugene bragged that he had finally made a breakthrough, had some incriminating recordings, and that he never stopped looking for evidence against me. When the officer asked if he wanted to submit it, Eugene laughed and said, ‘What for, so you can ignore it?’ Then he walked away. That’s all I know from Ennio. But it’s enough."
I bite my lip. "What… recordings could he have found?"
Bay scrubs his chin, and then he speaks.
"The problem is the way I killed three of them. It wasn’t planned.
They tried to push me off a cliff, but I have a kind of intuition when it comes to threats against my life or…
yours. It was their car that ended up hanging over the edge, then I simply pushed it off.
I lost my bumper, and on one of the recordings you can supposedly see my car, and the bumper is missing.
That could serve as evidence that I am responsible for his grandsons’ deaths. "
"Not good, damn."
"What is problematic is the fact that Eugene became disillusioned with the justice system. For years he tried to reopen the case and failed, so now he may take matters into his own hands. That is one of the reasons I wanted to move in with you now, even though your therapy is not finished yet."
Oh. So that’s the reason. I feel a tiny needle of disappointment that he moved in not only because he wanted to be with me but also to keep me safe.
Yes, I know well his protective nature, I can’t separate Bay the lover from Bay the protector, that’s what I admired about him then and what I love still, and in a way it is sweet. And even a little sexy.
But I would also want him to come back to me just because… he missed me so fucking much. Or maybe it’s also the case? I should not be too greedy.
Bay shifts his gaze over my face and he says with a lower voice, "Even though it’s me whom Eugene may focus on, he certainly knows how our feud with his family began, and he may remember that you were also involved."
Our eyes meet for a second.
"You know, I can kill a person with a single touch if I want to, and for some time now I haven’t been afraid of being attacked anymore."
"I know that, but remember there are other ways to hurt someone, ways that don’t involve touching."
I lower my head over the table because he is right. "I know, I appreciate you coming here, though I also hope it’s not just… for my protection."
Bay’s face twitches slightly. "I could not wait to come here, Alex, make no mistake. I counted the days. It was just the last, tiny push that made me take the step."
For a moment we stare at each other.
"I do hope we can regain what we had, Alex. Even if it won’t be so immediate and easy, after all it’s a second-chance relationship, and they rarely are the same as the first-time ones."
I press my lips into a thin line.
"And I still can hope for the… first time feeling. Because for me it’s not a second chance, Bay. It’s still the first."