Home Again
JON
Cooper had slept through most of the flight home, curled against my side with his head on my shoulder.
I barely moved except to pull off my hoodie and drape it over him, or to make sure he drank water whenever he woke.
At the airport, he yawned his way through baggage claim, exhausted, clingy, and so beautiful I couldn’t help but stare.
Other people did too—but never for long. Not with the way I was looking back at them.
At their house, Mrs. Taylor pulled him into a hug, squishing him until he made a muffled, protesting noise into her shoulder.
Then she turned to me, and before I could prepare for it, she hugged me too.
We had never hugged before. My presence didn’t exactly encourage people to hug me—it encouraged them to cross the street, fast. And honestly, they’d had a point.
Before I got my shit together, I threw hands to fight, not to be hugged like this.
Mrs. Taylor was being all maternal and warm, and it made my chest ache.
I hadn’t had much of that shit when I was growing up.
When I landed my ass in juvenile detention at the ripe age of fifteen after a street fight gone wrong, my foster mother at the time told me it was a sign from God that I was rotten to the core.
She didn’t phrase it like that, but it was the gist of it.
And I believed her, just like I’d believed the previous one who told me I was a burden to society.
Juvie changed the course of my life. I didn’t even mind the constant supervision.
Who cared if I had to wake up every morning at six?
At least no one woke me up drunk, looking for a fight.
Most of the courses there were stupid and poorly executed, but then Mr. Hill came along with his old computers and logic puzzles.
He clocked my interest and brought me some basic programming books, and that was it.
The cold logic of coding hooked me completely.
I blinked, realizing I wasn’t in Mr. Hill’s small classroom. I was still being embraced by Mrs. Taylor. She had talked with Gerald, so she was all caught up on our new statuses. But she seemed more interested in our relationship.
At least if her radiant smile was anything to go by.
“I’m so happy for you both,” she said.
Behind her, Jack frowned.
“They were gone less than a week,” he pointed out, genuinely puzzled. “I mean sure, it’s great to see my baby brother and best friend again, but they weren’t on a decade-long pilgrimage.”
“We’re together, you idiot,” Cooper told him.
Jack’s mouth fell open. Literally. A fly could’ve flown in.
“No way.” His eyes bounced from me to Cooper and back again. “Really?”
I tensed. I didn’t think Jack would be a jerk about this, but I was still ready to—what, exactly? Punch my best friend if he upset Cooper?
Yep. Probably.
But of course Jack wasn’t a jerk, he was excited. First, he ruffled Cooper’s curls, mercilessly but with affection, and then slapped me on the shoulder.
“Blink twice if Coop’s forcing you,” he said, grinning widely.
Cooper shoved him immediately. “Shut up.”
Jack looked like he wasn’t going to shut up. He was going to double down.
“So who confessed first? Was it dramatic? Did anyone cry? And by anyone, I obviously mean Cooper.”
“You’ll be crying soon,” Cooper muttered darkly, leaning closer to my side. He tried to hide the yawn behind his hand, like I wouldn’t notice. He wasn’t as tired as he had been during his heat, but he was exhausted after the flight.
Jack wasn’t done, though.
“Do you remember when you used to write Jon’s name in your notebook with little hearts around it?” he asked.
“It was ironic,” Cooper said, his ears turning a vivid shade of pink.
“What about that time you stole his hoodie, wore it to school, and told everyone it belonged to your boyfriend?” Jack asked, looking entertained.
“I was sixteen,” Cooper said through gritted teeth. He took a shaky breath, his nose dipping toward my shoulder for a split second.
Jack turned to me, oblivious. “When he found out you listened to Imagine Dragons, he made them his whole personality for three months. Yet every time you came over, he pretended he didn’t like them.”
“Enough, Jack.”
I didn’t mean for my voice to sound quite so growly, but sensing Cooper’s mortification made my own skin prickle.
I locked my arm around his waist, pressing a kiss on top of his curls.
Jack’s grin faded for half a second, several emotions flickering across his face.
Then he seemed to realize I wasn’t about to start something—I was protecting Cooper.
I could almost smell his thought process.
It made me wonder about what Gerald had told us, about late presentation running in the family.
Jack let out a slow breath.
“Sorry, baby brother,” he said. “I’m just so happy for you idiots.”
Then he flashed me an obnoxious smile before addressing Cooper again. “Just to balance it out, Jon always found an excuse to come and talk to you whenever he was around. And if you weren’t at home, he got all weird.”
Cooper’s smile turned bright. I rubbed my neck. I hadn’t realized I had been that obvious.
It was also obvious that Cooper was flagging. I brushed my thumb over his knuckles.
“You need to eat,” I said quietly.
Cooper blinked up at me, his eyes slightly glazed. “I already ate.”
I raised an eyebrow.
He sighed dramatically, but it was more like a tired huff. “A muffin totally counts if it has blueberries in it.”
I nodded toward the table. He muttered something under his breath about me being bossy, but the defiance lacked its usual bite. He went to sit, and I pulled his chair out first, my hand lingering on his shoulder as he settled. I liked the way his scent calmed the moment I touched him.
“Did you just pull out the chair for Coop?” Jack asked, looking incredulous. “Fuck, man. Is that an Alpha thing or just you being whipped?”
I ignored him.
“Have you thought about registering?” Mrs. Taylor asked Cooper. “Might be useful if you’re one of those Omegas with regular heats,” she continued. “So you’d be certified for sick leave.”
She turned to me, but nope, I was not ready to discuss a possible rut situation with Cooper’s mom.
“Apparently, there are oils and shit,” Jack said. “For heat anxiety,” he clarified. We all turned to stare at him, and he gave us a sheepish grin. “I did some research. I wanted to know what I can do to help if it gets bad,” he explained.
“You’re such a softie,” Cooper muttered, looking pleased despite himself.
“What about suppressants?” Mrs. Taylor asked. “They could help with separation anxiety and overprotective tendencies.”
“You’re overinterested,” Cooper said with a yawn.
“After you’ve eaten,” I said, leaning down so only he could hear me. “You’re going to rest. No arguing.”
I could see he was about to protest, so I added, “At my place.”
I watched his brain go somewhere very obvious and very dirty for a split second, and under different circumstances, I would’ve enjoyed the hell out of that. But then a deep, sleepy relief washed over him as he seemed to realize what my words meant.
He was coming home with me.
To the only place he belonged from now on.