Chapter 3
AUDEN
My second-oldest nephew is a tech genius.
Technically speaking, he’s not actually my nephew.
I believe, as Jalon’s son, he’d be my second cousin.
However, in the Van Doren family, relations are determined by generation.
Since Jalon and I are within months of each other in age, his kids are my nephews. No one will convince me otherwise.
Eight months ago, my nephew, Voss, had his son.
Okay, to be unnecessarily clear, he didn’t birth his son.
While the Van Dorens are pushing the boundaries on every scientific front, they haven’t managed male conception yet.
With five of Jalon’s six sons in gay relationships, I imagine it’s now higher on the list of things he’d like to make possible for his kids.
However, it stands that Voss’s kid is eight months old.
Shortly after he turned five weeks, he created an app for his family to share pictures of their kids without having to post them online.
Only those in our family have access to download the app.
Now, every day, I receive a pic of his little boy, Axl, and I can watch him grow.
Likewise, it’s been opened up to everyone in the family to share family picture updates. I appreciate that I can mute some people. No offense, but I’m not close to everyone.
Primarily, I have Rome’s family, Jalon’s family, and my own kid unmuted. That means Jalon’s youngest sibling, Noaz, also has a channel with their kid, Emerson, who is a year and a half old now. I can’t believe he’s a year and a half old!
When the app pings, I open my phone, expecting to see a picture of either Axl or Emerson. Instead, it’s Jalon’s oldest son, Myro, and it’s a video.
I grin because I can only imagine what this is. Especially when the still shot is of his long-time girlfriend Jessica pointing a finger at Loren with what is unmistakably a threat in her eyes. Making sure my volume is on, I hit the play button.
“So help you god, if anyone asks if we’re getting married just because we’re having a baby, I will throat punch you,” Jessica declares.
I snort.
Loren, looking as unfazed as he could possibly look, asks with a level of innocence that I find entirely unbelievable, “Does that mean this was an accident?”
Loren’s husband, Oakley, yanks him away from Jessica before she can respond. Myro is holding the camera, and I hear him laugh as a couple of Jessica’s friends restrain her.
“He can’t save you, Loren. You might not feel fear, but you can absolutely feel my knee in your balls.”
“It’s a legitimate question,” Loren says.
The camera flips, and we’re looking at Myro now. He’s grinning, highly entertained. “To recap, we’re having a baby, not getting married, and yes, this was planned. New baby Van Doren will be born in January 2024.”
The video ends. I’m chuckling as I dial Jalon. He answers as if he’s talking to the English king. It’s in the tone and inflection of his voice. “This is Jalon,” he greets.
“Congrats, cousin,” I say.
Jalon’s smile is evident in his voice. “You watched Myro’s video, did you?”
“I did. That woman is a spitfire.” I laugh.
“You have no idea. If it weren’t for the smile Loren cracked once Jessica got fed up with him and turned around, I’d have guessed that he was genuinely asking. Oakley’s been good for that boy.”
“I can’t even imagine. Although it sounds like this marriage question comes up often.”
Jalon hums. “I don’t think they’re opposed to marriage.
At this point, I think Jessica’s digging her heels in because people keep asking.
Myro assures me they’re committed to each other and plan to spend their lives together.
Jessica is an advocate that marriage isn’t for everyone, and it doesn’t define the pinnacle of love.
While I don’t think she’s opposed to marrying Myro, I think she also feels like she needs to live the message she shouts. ”
“The world is so damn concerned with what everyone else is doing.”
“Mm.”
“Second grandkid, though. That’s exciting.”
“It is, though we’re calling this one grandkid number three.”
“Emmy?”
“Yes. Noaz has called me Grandpa Jalon with Emerson since he was born, and I don’t ever want Emmy to feel like he can’t call me Grandpa.”
“That’s my bad. He is absolutely your grandkid.
” More so than his parents’ grandkid, despite those crazies still living on the Estate.
I’m a little surprised they’re there after the bombshell that Jalon uncovered last year.
I think I’d have demanded they leave after the lifetime of lies they let Jalon believe.
“Speaking of kids. How’s yours holding up? How’s Bennett?”
I sigh. “Rhodes is dramatic. Which makes the pack dramatic. Bennett is actually fine.”
“Mark still there?”
“Yes. I did say Rhodes is dramatic, didn’t I? When Mark said that he could take off for a while and check in via video, Rhodes nearly had a meltdown. My kid has never had a meltdown. Not even when he was little. It’s… incredibly unsettling.”
Jalon chuckles. “Kids in love.”
“Sounds like you might know something about that these days,” I say.
Once again, I hear Jalon’s smile. “In love? That’s open for debate. Do I love him? Yes.”
“You finally found happiness.”
“I did,” he answers, voice quiet. “It’s… slightly overwhelming. Far more harrowing than literally anything else I’ve done in my entire life. Yet, of everything I’ve accomplished, it’s almost more satisfying. Outside of my kids, of course.”
“Doesn’t need to be in competition with your kids, Jalon. Two very different things.”
Jalon sighs. “You’re right. What about you?”
“Oh no. You hear that? Line is cutting out. I’ll catch you later, cousin.” I end the call to his laughter.
Grinning, I set my phone down and then pick it up again to send Myro a congratulatory text.
Since Rhodes is still camped out in one of the guest rooms instead of a cabin and he’s being absolutely insufferable, I stay late, though I hardly work. Instead, I go back to my favorite gay hockey series and rewatch some of my favorite episodes until it’s late enough that I think Rhodes is asleep.
Yes, I’m avoiding my kid. I get it. I am concerned about Bennett.
However, I trust Mark when he says Bennett will be fine.
Nothing incredibly serious. Nothing that will leave a lasting, visible scar, though the staples in his head will probably scar.
Bennett’s hair will cover the mark, so it’s not the end of the world.
On my drive home, I wonder how I’d feel if it had been Rhodes injured. Would I be a helicopter parent until he healed? Would I be filled with fear that he’s suddenly going to stop breathing through the night?
Rhodes surprised me when he brought Bennett home. My family has always joked that I produced a kid who was my polar opposite. While I hoed it up, Rhodes was perpetually alone. He chose the companionship of his pack over a human.
Then he showed up one day after a high school reunion with Bennett in tow, and I could visibly see the difference in my son. My son’s world, which largely revolved around himself and his pack, suddenly had a sun in the center. A young man who couldn’t be more different from Rhodes if he tried.
I’ve spent enough time with my son and Bennett in the last year that I certainly love that man as if he’s another son. That’s how you should love your kids’ partners. They should immediately be welcomed into the family.
Admittedly, I was concerned when I first came upon Rhodes with Bennett. Seeing Bennett covered in blood, dripping from his head, tears in his eyes, the way the pack was covered in blood and losing their minds—yes, I was scared.
I remained scared while the anxiety of the pack continued to be high as they fed off Rhodes’ fear. Even after I managed to get Rhodes and the pack outside, instead of cleaning, I watched as Doctor Mark tended to Bennett, just so I could see with my own eyes that Bennett would be okay.
I trust Mark. Rhodes trusts Mark, too, though Bennett wasn’t magically healed, so he’s still upset. Still ready to lose his shit when Bennett twinges wrong.
It’s making Rhodes a little exhausting to be around. I believe Mark when he says it’s incredibly unlikely that Bennett will succumb to his wounds now. Rhodes doesn’t feel the same relief and assurance.
The house is blessedly quiet when I step inside.
No wolves hanging about downstairs, which means Rhodes and Bennett must be tucked in for the night.
Mark has likely made his way to the nearby cabin.
He’s been finishing up the conference remotely, so he needed somewhere he could find silence without Rhodes dropping in.
Noise in the kitchen has me pausing. Maybe Rhodes isn’t asleep. I frown. I’m being a bad father. My boy is upset, and I should be comforting him.
Inhaling deeply, hopefully shoving down my frustration and impatience, I step into the kitchen. It’s not Rhodes. Mark is standing in front of the fridge with the door open. He’s clearly looking for something, though it takes me a minute to figure out what.
“The rum is in the cabinet,” I offer.
Mark spins around, eyes wide. The fridge shuts slowly behind him. I’m a little surprised to find his pupils dilating. His nostrils flare. His lips part, and the tip of his tongue pokes out.
Unable to help myself, my eyes drop, and I don’t miss the way his cock is tenting the front of his pants. Obviously. There’s no hint there. It’s trying to wave at me.
My eyes drift back up to meet his. I’ve clearly startled Mark since he remains motionless. Staring. I can see his heavy breathing now.
Mark has worked for the Van Doren family since he first graduated. He interned with his father, who was our family doctor before him. Once his rotations were complete and he was fully licensed, he was brought on full time while his father began taking a step back.
I believe because of that, I’ve never taken a good look at him. Admittedly, he’s not the kind of man I go for. Wait. Is that accurate? Do I seriously have a type in any gender? My child would say I don’t. I’ll bed them if they walk on two legs and have a hole for me to fill.
Now that I’m looking at Mark, I see just how breathtaking he is.
He’s lean, maybe a little soft around the middle, as suggested by his sweater.
His hair is long, hanging around his neck, not quite curly but certainly not straight either.
Dark eyes framed by dark-rimmed glasses, dark hair, dark beard kept close to his skin.
Never getting long enough to become a hindrance.
He’s…
With my eyes being opened to truly seeing Mark, my dick takes notice, too. Maybe not quite as eager as his, but it wouldn’t take long to get there. Especially if I keep seeing the tip of his tongue poke between his pink lips.
“Sorry,” Mark says after a minute, and I’m a little disappointed when he gets himself together. “I didn’t mean to intrude on your space. I haven’t had a chance to head to the store.”
“Help yourself to whatever,” I answer.
Mark swallows. “Thank you.”
Our gazes hold for another heated moment before he turns away, subtly adjusting himself as he turns back to the fridge.
“How’s the patient?” I ask as I pull two tumblers and the previously proffered rum from the cabinet.
I have a bar at the side of the room. There’s a variety of different-shaped ice cubes in the small freezer under the counter because normal cubes are boring.
I choose a couple of medium round ones and place two in each glass before pouring a generous amount of the warm liquid in each.
Mark is watching me when I turn around and offer him one of the glasses. His eyes feel anchored to me now. Holding me hostage. Or maybe I’m holding him hostage. That’s far more my speed.
His fingers brush mine when he takes the glass from me, and I’m sure there’s a zap where our skin touches.
“Less distraught than his lover,” Mark says after a moment. “Thanks.” He raises the glass slightly, and with our eyes locked, we both take a sip.