Chapter 12
Qylar sat across from Kenji, watching his mate devour a massive plate of pancakes, eggs, bacon, and hashbrowns.
He smiled at Kenji’s appetite. He was eating for three.
Of course, he wasn’t completely sure that both eggs had taken root, but given the early swell of Kenji’s stomach, he felt sure they had.
He stretched out his legs, pushing his own empty plate away. “As good as I said it would be?”
“Oh my god,” Kenji mumbled mid-chew, one cheek swollen with food. He swallowed and sighed. “This is probably the best breakfast I’ve had in a long, long time.”
“I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” Qylar said, satisfied his mate was being well fed and happily so. He needed his energy for the young growing inside him.
“Are we still hitting the taco truck this afternoon?”
“You haven’t even finished your breakfast and you’re asking about lunch?”
“Are you judging me?” Kenji asked, pointing his fork at Qylar.
“Absolutely not,” Qylar said. “I appreciate a man with a big… appetite.”
Kenji’s cheeks grew pink. “I seem to have a bottomless stomach lately. All I want to do is eat.”
“I wonder why.”
Kenji’s eyes widened, as if he hadn’t realized the why already. How could he not have?
“Oh, yeah,” Kenji said. “Maybe I do need you around, Captain Obvious. I sure should’ve connected the dots there.”
“You did say you—how did you put it? You were… ignoring it and hoping it went away? Maybe your brain wasn’t willing to see the dots.”
“Possibly,” Kenji said before shoving another forkful in his mouth. He chewed, eyeing Qylar’s plate. “I’m sorry I eat so much slower and you have to just sit there and watch me.”
“I’m enjoying it,” Qylar said. “I never knew how exciting watching a man eat could be.”
Kenji’s face grew redder. “Now I feel like I need to hide my face away.”
“Don’t you dare.”
Kenji met his stare for a second before taking another bite. “So… after we stop at my place and I pack a bag, is there anything I can do to help get us ready to go?”
Ready to go? Qylar tried to hide his surprise at the question. “You… still want to go?”
“It’s the only place we can get it taken care of, right?”
Qylar’s stomach roiled, threatening to shoot the contents back up. “Yeah. The only place.” The coffee cup in his hand shattered, sending coffee and shards of ceramic flying. Some landed on Kenji’s food, ruining what was left of his breakfast.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” Qylar said.
Luckily, both the cup and Kenji’s plate were nearly empty.
Kenji lowered his fork while Qylar sopped up the coffee with some of the pile of napkins on the table’s edge. He felt gazes from the diners around them and wished they were alone.
“It’s okay. I was almost done anyway,” Kenji replied, his voice barely above a whisper. “Qylar?”
“Yeah,” Qylar said, continuing to clear away the mess without lifting his gaze to Kenji. He didn’t want the man to see his pain—or feel pressured.
“Qylar?”
“What?” Qylar snapped.
“You’re bleeding.”
Qylar glanced down and noticed a small shard of ceramic stuck in his palm and a trail of deep red-purple blood dripping from the bottom of his hand. He plucked out the shard and wiped at the blood before putting pressure there.
Their server waltzed over. “My lord, the cup must’ve had a crack in it. I’m so sorry, hon. Want me to get you another cup?”
“Just the check,” Qylar said, his voice raw. “Please.”
“Sure thing, hon. Let me ask my manager if I can add a discount for all your trouble first. I’ll be right back.”
“No need,” Qylar said, needing to get the fuck out of there. “It was just an accident.”
“Okay.” Their server fished their order from her apron. “I’ve got it right here.” She placed the ticket on the edge of the table. “Sorry, again. I’ve never had that happen before.”
“It’s all good,” Qylar said before digging out his wallet. He peeked at the check before pulling out three twenties and laying them over. “Keep the change.”
“Thank you very much. You two have a happy Thanksgiving, okay?”
“Happy Thanksgiving,” Qylar forced out along with a smile. He glanced briefly at Kenji. “Ready?”
“Yeah.”
Qylar slid out of the booth, clenching the napkin inside his palm. He opened the restaurant’s door and held it open for Kenji. He crossed to the truck, passing Kenji, and opened the passenger door.
Kenji eyed him but said nothing. He stepped up into the truck and sat down, peeking at Qylar. Qylar steeled himself. After shutting the door, he climbed in behind the wheel and plugged his cell into the charger. Once he had the map app open, he handed his phone over.
“Put your address in, please.”
At least he’d finally have that.
Kenji took it, typed it in, and started the directions.
The rest of the ride was silent, except for Siri’s robotic instructions.
They entered the Tenderloin, and Qylar tensed.
That neighborhood was one of the most dangerous in the city, known for its high crime rate.
Streets were dirty, buildings derelict. They passed spots filled with panhandlers and unhoused people.
Qylar parked along the street as close to the address as possible and gazed around.
While it looked a bit cleaner looking than other blocks they’d passed, he wasn’t pleased that’s where his mate called home.
“I’ll be right back. Just give me a few,” Kenji said, reaching for the doorhandle.
“I can come help,” Qylar said, the desire to pack all of Kenji’s belongings burning in his chest.
“I can manage,” Kenji said. He opened the door but paused before getting out. “Though, I could clean up that cut for you if you came up.”
Qylar eyed him. He didn’t need tending to, but he much preferred escorting his mate up. “Okay.”
A few minutes and a two-floor walkup later, they strode down a dimly lit hallway that smelled of cigarettes. He followed Kenji into 3F and gazed around. It was nicer inside than what the outside would suggest, but not by much.
“I know it’s not much,” Kenji said. “Especially compared to your million-dollar townhouse.” Kenji laughed. “Probably a lot more than a million, considering real estate here.”
“I don’t own it,” Qylar said. “Just lucky to work for a guy who does.”
“Yeah,” Kenji said. “Tacoma’s likely at work, so we should be clear for a while. Have a seat. I’ll go look for the first aid kit.”
Qylar eyed the tiny galley kitchen and the sink inside it. “I’ll wash my hands first, if you don’t mind?”
“Yeah. Sure,” Kenji said before disappearing behind a door.
Qylar barely fit in the tiny kitchen. He had to turn sideways to pass the fridge. After washing his hands of the dried blood, he wandered back into the living area just as Kenji showed up with a small kit.
“You could just give that to me and go pack,” Qylar said, holding out his hand.
“I want to make sure you don’t have any more glass in your hand,” Kenji said.
Qylar held his gaze a second before lowering his hand and sitting down on the very short couch.
Kenji sat beside him and took his hand, palm up, and placed it on his thigh.
He used the light on his phone to inspect the wound.
After searching for a pair of tweezers and then sanitizing them, he withdrew a tiny speck of ceramic.
“That could’ve caused an infection,” Kenji said, matter-of-factly, while searching the wound again with the light. “Good that I checked. I don’t see anymore. Hopefully that’s all.”
Qylar watched Kenji spread antibacterial salve on the small cut and wrap it with a Band-Aid, his light touch enjoyable. When he was done, he put everything back in the kit, turned off his light, and then lifted his gaze to Qylar. “Now we’re going to talk.”
Qylar sighed.
“I’m not ready to be a father.”
Qylar nodded. “Which you’ve already said—and I won’t pressure you into having them.”
“It’s clear you want me to.”
“No,” Qylar said, staring down at his hand. “You’re not ready. I respect that.”
“Shattering a cup in your hand, though?”
“I thought after last night, things might’ve changed,” Qylar said. “I shouldn’t have assumed. That’s on me, not you.” He drew in a ragged breath. “I just need a minute to get my head straight and then we’ll be fine.”
“Just because I’m not ready now doesn’t mean I won’t be someday.”
Qylar’s chest tightened. He met Kenji’s gaze and saw sorrow in it.
“I wish I was ready and could give you what you want—but I need more time.”
“Okay,” Qylar whispered.
“I do feel the connection you’ve talked about,” Kenji said. “I don’t want this choice to destroy that.”
“It won’t,” Qylar said. He reached out and caressed Kenji’s cheek. “I promise.”
“I care about you, Qylar. I want to spend more time getting to know you and seeing where this leads.”
Qylar smiled, rubbing his thumb along Kenji’s jawbone. “That helps.”
“Does it?”
“Knowing you’re willing to give us a shot means there is a chance for a family someday. When we’re both ready.” Qylar drew in another breath and let it go. “Before telling me that, this pregnancy felt like a potential last-chance kind of situation. One that was slipping through my fingers.”
Kenji leaned closer and pressed a kiss to Qylar’s lips. “I’m not slipping through your fingers… But if you squeeze too tight, who knows.”
“Understood,” Qylar said, a hint of a smile on his lips.
“Now, let me go pack a bag.”
“I still think you should pack it all,” Qylar said as Kenji rose and walked toward his bedroom.
“As tempting as that is, I don’t know if we’re ready for that,” Kenji yelled from the other room.
“I’ve offered you the upstairs bedroom,” Qylar yelled. “You can have your own space away from me.”
“Like we wouldn’t end up sleeping in one bed.”
Qylar grinned. “Probably, but you’d have somewhere to go and slam the door when I piss you off.”
“I think that would be necessary living with you.”