Chapter 30 Dalton
DALTON
The joy in the room was palpable, a living thing that buzzed between Peyton and Theo. It was infectious. I felt it, too.
But as the morning wore on, the quiet descended again, and with it came the shadow that had been dogging me since Silas Claybourne had started filling my head with his lies, telling me that I was a beta, that I was a failure, that I was a liability.
Beta.
I watched them from the kitchen doorway. They were sitting on the couch, Theo resting against Peyton’s chest, Peyton’s large hand splayed possessively over Theo’s stomach. They were talking in low murmurs, discussing names, seasons, the future.
They looked like a painting. “The Alpha and His Pregnant Omega.”
And me? I was the frame. Necessary to hold it together, maybe, but not part of the picture itself.
I looked down at the notepad in front of me. Peyton had scrawled it out earlier, his handwriting bold and decisive, leaving it on the counter. It was a list for both of us, but all I saw were the things I needed to do. It was overwhelming.
1. Insurance Claim - Call Agent
(Policy in fireproof box)
2. Fire Report - Contact Chief Miller
3. Call Gabe - Check on him
4. Call Judd - Peyton’s landscaping buyout
5. Realty Office - Check comps for the house
6. Sign the papers for the gallery
Practical. Necessary. Safe.
My hand was shaking.
“He’s going to need a room,” Theo’s voice drifted in, softer now. “Or she. Do you think we should wait to find out?”
“We wait,” Peyton said, his voice rumbling with certainty. “I like surprises.”
“I don’t,” Theo laughed. “I need to plan. To nest.”
“Relax,” Peyton said, soothingly. “Dalton can handle the arrangements. He’s got the list.”
My name, spoken so casually, felt like a physical blow. Dalton can handle the arrangements. Not “Dalton will help us pick names.” Not “Dalton is a father too.” Just… arrangements. Logistics. The admin assistant to their biology.
I pushed away from the counter, the legs of the stool scraping harsh against the floor. They both looked up, surprised.
“I’m going to make some calls,” I said, my voice tight. “Get the insurance ball rolling.”
“Okay,” Peyton said, though his brow furrowed slightly. “Do you need help?”
“No,” I said, grabbing my phone and the notepad. “I got it.”
I retreated to the back deck, the cool mountain air biting at my skin. I sat on the weathered bench, staring at the tree line. The burned ruin of my shop was just a few miles away, a black scar on the town I used to love. I should be mourning it. I should be angry.
But all I could feel was the hollow ache in my chest.
I wasn’t the father. Not really. I didn’t have the instincts Peyton talked about. I couldn’t smell the changes in Theo’s scent the way he could. I couldn’t offer a knot to comfort him.
I dialed the insurance agent, going through the motions. Policy numbers. Dates. Times. Yes, suspicion of arson. No, I wasn’t in town. Yes, I’ll have the report sent to you.
I hung up, feeling emptier than before.
I sat there for a long time, the notepad resting on my knee. I completed my portion of the list. I made the calls. My usefulness ran dry.
I looked down at the blank space at the bottom of the page then flipped the page. My pen hovered over the blank space.
I wasn’t an Alpha. I wasn’t the biological father. I couldn’t give the baby genes or a claim to a legacy.
But I could give them a world.
I thought about a nursery in Sugar Beach.
The room with the big window that got the morning sun.
We might have to buy a house. The apartment wouldn’t work for a baby.
The only space for a nursery was on the other side of the apartment and I knew my alpha.
I was beginning to know my omega. The other side of the apartment would be too far away. But that was a thought for another day.
My hand started to move. I was an artist. Yes, I did tattoos, but I was an artist first. Tattoos, and the skin I drew on, were my medium. It didn’t define me. My art did that. So I sketched.
A tree, stretching up the wall, its branches wide and protective.
But not a scary forest tree. A whimsical one, with leaves that looked like stars.
And sitting in the branches… a bear. A soft, round bear with a kind face.
And a fox, quick and clever. And a raccoon, maybe? No, a badger. Fierce but small.
I lost track of time. I forgot the insurance list, buried under graphite shading and intricate linework. I sketched a mural that would wrap around the entire room, a safe haven of color and imagination. A place where a child could feel protected.
“Dalton?”
I jumped, my hand smudging a line. Theo was standing at the sliding glass door, looking hesitant.
“Hey,” I said, closing the notebook instinctively. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” he opened the door and stepped out. “You’ve been out here a while. Peyton worried you were… spiraling.”
“I’m fine,” I said. And for the first time all morning, it wasn’t a lie.
Theo sat next to me, bumping his shoulder against mine. “What are you drawing?”
I looked down at the notebook. Then, slowly, I opened it.
Theo stared at the sketch. The tree, the animals, the sense of wonder I’d tried to capture in grey lead.
“Is that…” he traced the line of the bear.
“For the nursery,” I said, my voice thick. “I was thinking… a mural. Something bright. Something just for them.”
Theo looked up at me, his eyes shining. “It’s beautiful, Dalton. It’s… it’s perfect.”
“I want to paint it,” I said, looking at him, really looking at him. “I know I’m not… I know I can’t give you what Peyton gave you. I can’t smell the hormones or whatever. But I want to give this kid a world where they’re safe. Where they’re happy. Where they can imagine.”
Theo reached out, grabbing my hand and pressing it flat against his stomach, right where Peyton’s had been earlier.
“You are giving them a father,” Theo whispered fiercely. “Biology is just chemistry, Dalton. This?” He gestured to the drawing, then to me. “This is love. And that’s all that matters.”
I felt a warmth spread through my chest, chasing away the cold beta insecurity. I accepted the touch, accepted the place he was making for me.
“I’m going to paint them the best damn room in Florida,” I vowed.
“I know you will,” Theo smiled, leaning his head on my shoulder. “Now come inside. The Alpha is pacing. He thinks you’re out here plotting an escape.”
“No escape,” I said, looking at my drawing of the protective tree. “I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”