Trash Panda (Shift Work #3)

5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Rollie

Life goes back to normal after our shared heat with Gary ends, but even as the last of the snow melts and mud season turns to spring, I can’t help feeling different. It seems silly, but there’s this subtle sense of having partaken in something if not sacred, then at least special.

It’s like I have a whole new insight into the smug way my younger brother sashayed between classes and took his place as a de facto ring leader among the other omegas in our grade after being among the first to get his heats.

I didn’t understand it back then. How all my peers sorted themselves into groups I wasn’t welcome to be a part of—alpha or omega, it made no difference. I didn’t belong on either side of the widening divides among my classmates.

I still don’t quite understand why how others view me matters so much, just that it does. It’s not that I subscribe to any view of the world that means I’m more of an omega based on a weekend of phenomenal heat sex. There was just something about it that made the experience momentous, so it’s jarring that nothing in my life changes in any material way as a result.

Part of me wants to ask for a repeat, but I’m not sure what Seb will say if I do. I don’t want to come across as too eager and scare him off by acting clingy. Seb doesn’t let lovers get too close. He’s already moved on to other fuck buddies, I’ve only smelled Gary on him a handful of times since our weekend with the alpha.

I know why; Gary was far too sweet with us for Seb’s tastes. Not that I keep close tabs on who Seb fucks. That’s his business as long as he’s being safe. Following our rules about drinking, and using a rideshare if he isn’t in a state to fly or drive, and sending me information if he’s going home with a stranger.

What matters to me is that he mitigates the risks he takes. That, and if I’m entirely honest, the fact it’s always me he comes home to. I’m the one he curls up next to when he dreams. That’s always been enough for me. Seb is enough. I just don’t know how much longer I can keep telling myself that I don’t need to define what we are to each other. During our heat, he felt like my mate, and I can’t let go of just how wonderful that was.

I keep looking for signs something might have changed for Seb too, but there’s nothing concrete. Just a growing restlessness under the surface that might have more to do with the increasing alpha pungency of his scent.

The ongoing medication shortage has really been messing with both our hormones. I’ve been getting more headaches and weird mood swings lately. And weird dreams that disrupt my sleep, but that could be partly because Seb has been sleeping poorly too, waking me with his tossing and turning. He’s depressed and edging toward the sort of downward spiral that scares me.

Seb blames his moodiness on being tired from picking up extra odd jobs around town as a distraction from the dysphoria, and to save up for extra blood tests. He watches hatchlings at the flock building and does deliveries on the wing. I put in extra hours at the market to cover heat leaves for several of my coworkers.

Plenty of shifter species plan their heats for the spring to align with natural cycles, so it’s natural to need a dose adjustment this time of year. Seb claims the generic hormones we’re taking are the same as what we’ve been on for years without any issues. That’s clearly not the case though. I can tell the more pronounced alpha traits are taking a toll on him and I’ve been feeling more and more strange since the change in meds.

Something is off about the new brand of hormones, no matter how positive a spin Seb puts on the entire situation being temporary. I know the facts don’t quite add up, but my only other option is to stop the meds and go back to presenting as a beta. Feeling wrong in my skin. My static endocrinologist also manages my testosterone and the other hormonal imbalances related to my messy genetics, so I don’t dare to find out what will happen if he finds out I’ve been skirting the law to get my O. I can’t risk losing my T and the other meds I need over this.

It’s less scary to take Seb’s reassurances at face value. Sure, our side effects lately are strange. Just not quite strange enough to merit risking other aspects of my health. Not strange enough to press Seb on where he gets our meds. We’re just still adjusting to the brand change. That has to be all it is. Nothing to fret about.

Life goes on. With spring comes a slew of raven birthday celebrations. Seb and I attend family dinners together as usual. I tease Seb about complicated raven traditions when we pick out gifts for his youngest niblings, first for Leighton’s birthday and then Kyrie’s hatchday. I follow their alpha parent’s lead, calling them twins, despite their asynchronous birthday celebrations.

Seb keeps brushing off the continuing side effects from the new medication, always telling me it’s temporary until the shortage with our usual brand is resolved. Pretending neither of us notices how miserably dysphoric every new alpha trait makes him. I recognize the signs of a crash coming with him, and family parties with his young niblings always hit him hard, though.

I keep asking if we can talk about it, but there’s always something more pressing going on. I have to put my foot down and insist that we are discussing it after Kyrie’s party, but he still claims that we’re just both overtired from picking up extra hours. He’s not wrong, even if it feels like an excuse. I don’t have time to press the issue before the party though, because the dairy cooler has been acting up and Harvey calls me in on my day off to cover a shift while he works out some logistics.

So instead of spending the day of Kyrie’s party with Seb helping his clutchmates prepare for the party, I spend the day covering an extra opening shift for Harvey. The cooler we’ve been battling to keep running is making a new weird sound; it’s a matter of time before we can’t put off replacing it any longer. My boss spends the day in the office tracking down a replacement and calling around for quotes for a last-minute installation to compare with the latest repair quotes.

To complicate the issue, as I expected, rumors about Harvey renovating the market to expand the freezer section have spread around the entire town on raven’s wings in the months since Elric’s fledging party. The workers Harvey has called in to assess repair costs for the faulty refrigeration unit have only fueled those rumors. Harvey commented on the gossip with a knowing smile in my direction the last time we worked together, but he doesn’t seem to blame me for starting it.

I even caught him looking speculatively at the area across from the dairy coolers and taking measurements after hours, like he’s sizing up how to rearrange things. I make sure my projected profit spreadsheets for expansion are up to date, just in case. But Harvey isn’t in the store for most of the day as I handle managing the day-to-day operations for him.

Seb calls me during my lunch break and I all but pounce on my phone to answer it. Mel, who has only picked at her sandwich, raises an amused brow at my overeager reaction as she wraps up her untasted food and shoves it back into the breakroom fridge. She waves at me as she heads back to her register.

“Hi?” I answer the call and wiggle my fingers at Mel in a wave, mouthing that I’ll be right out to join her and the other young cashier working with us today soon.

This is Mel’s last shift before she’s scheduled to start a week of heat leave, so I’ve been keeping an eye on her. I suspect I’ll need to send her home early today, but not yet. Her scent is a little different from usual, but not yet that overripe off-putting omega sweetness I associate with a heat that would have me bundling her out the door. I have time to finish my food and take a quick call for now.

“Hey, Rollie! I assume since you answered you have a quick second?” Seb’s voice pours over me, warming me to my toes.

I try not to examine the giddy swoop of pleasure low in my belly at the sound of Seb’s voice. I shouldn’t miss him when I saw him a few hours ago—fast asleep in our bed—but I do. Or maybe that’s the wrong word for the melancholy of his presence in my life and home feeling transient. It’s not that I feel like a placeholder, it’s just that I can’t see a way to be more than that and give him the life he deserves, full of love and family and kids of his own to dote on.

“Sure,” I agree, no need to point out that I will always make time for him. “What’s up?”

“Awesome! So, I just have a quick favor, since you’re there anyway. Bram is in a mood because Kyrie is teething so he used the last of the juice to make ice pops for them. Ty was supposed to pick up more juice for the party since Kyrie and Leighton have both been obsessed with it and no other flavor will quench their thirst, but he went to, like, three stores after his shift last night and none of them had the right stuff, and the market wasn’t open by the time they got the kids fed and settled for the night.” Seb pauses to take a breath.

“Sounds rough,” I comment, to show I’m listening.

“Yeah, so now Ty is at work with the car, and Bram is stuck at home with both babies since they gave their second vehicle to Bryony as her graduation gift. So my brother is being a total featherhead and grumbling that he’s going to walk over there with both babies to pick up their juice himself even though he’s ready to pop out the new baby if he sneezes too hard, so if you have a couple of bottles of that guava nectar juice stuff you can bring home with you, that would be a godsend?” Seb rambles the whole story, parts of it likely verbatim from his brother.

Bram would without a doubt walk across half of Four Corners at full term with two toddlers in tow to make sure Kyrie’s celebration is perfect. I have to suppress a laugh at the mental image of Seb’s clutchmate balancing as many bottles of his coveted fruit juice as he can carry on his big round belly as he pushes the twins in their stroller.

“I’ll check how many we have in stock now, give me a second?” I pack up my lunch stuff, scarfing down the last bite of my blueberry muffin as I stand to put it away.

“No problem. And it’s not like there’s any rush, so long as I can promise him there will be juice at the party Bram will find something else to stress about. Pretty sure he’s nesting and if it’s not stockpiling the perfect juice, then it will be something else, so he’s lucky we love him too much to duct tape him to his chair and make him relax. Winny and I claimed the two earliest due dates in the betting pool, so she’s been texting to tease me that we’re going to be neck and neck on predicting the kid’s birthday.”

Seb’s fondness for his siblings is sweet. Most of the time, I love listening to him talk about his family, but today I can’t help the ache of longing for connection that his words always inspire in me. It’s easier to focus on the task at hand than what might have been with my siblings if they’d seen and accepted me as an omega—or even just looked past my beta status and embraced me as a fellow shifter despite not fitting the binary alpha/omega mold our parents expected us all to fit. It’s impossible to know, since the insidious shame of never being enough kept me from even considering that I could fit in with my family and my shifter gaze back home.

I stride to the juice aisle and stop in front of the correct section without having to really look. I’ve spent enough time in Bram and Ty’s home to know which brand of juice they get, so I locate the juice in question, snap a picture to be sure and send it to Seb.

“This one, right?” I ask, lifting one from the shelf to scan at the register with my employee discount. Actually, I’m pretty sure I can find an entire unopened box of them in the stock room and really make Bram’s day.

There’s a pause as Seb checks the picture. “Yeah, that’s the right one! He wanted at least two bottles, but I can pay you back if you want to grab as many as seems reasonable?”

“I’ve got it, don’t worry, tell your brother the juice is covered.”

“You sure? I’m good for it, Rollie,” Seb insists.

I sigh and roll my eyes. It stings that he doesn’t want to accept my help, if I’m honest. But I know it’s not about whether he sees me as family, no matter how much a tiny part of me wants to read rejection into his offer to pay. He’s told me more than once how sometimes he’s convinced I’m going to get sick of him outstaying his welcome in our home. Well—he says your , not our, but it is ours in every way that matters.

I might be the one listed on the mortgage for our modest home, but he contributes to the payments and I made him sign a lease agreement when he moved in. At the time, because I listened to my alpha sister telling me to cover my ass, but now I’m glad I did because it means I can point to it and show Seb his name on the contract giving him the right to live there when he says shit like that. It’s our home. I want it to always be our home. Even if I’m a selfish asshole to want to tie all his charming radiance to myself.

“Fine,” I huff out a sigh and roll my eyes at him. “If it’s that big of a deal we can go halfsies on the twin’s juice. I promise it’s not a big deal to me though. I love your niblings too, you know.”

“I know.” Seb says. His breath catches, like he’s going to say something else. Maybe assure me that they see me as family. I know they do. If not the toddlers, then their parents at least. Bram treats me like I’m mated to his brother, and Ty acts like I’m as much mated into the noisy flock as he is. He doesn’t offer reassurances, probably because Seb doesn’t think I need them. “They still aren’t twins though. Clutchmates aren’t twins. No matter how many times you and Ty try to say it’s the same difference.”

That level of nuance is beyond me when I’ve already been at work since opening with no end to my day in sight. It makes sense to ravens though. I’ve heard his reasoning, but Bram carried them at the same time and birthed them at the same time, so it really shouldn’t matter that Leighton was born in their human form and Kyrie—born in their egg in raven form—hatched roughly a month later. They’re twins.

“Agree to disagree. My lunch is over, but I’ll stick the juice in my car now so I don’t forget it, okay?”

“Sounds good, thank you Rollie. You’re a lifesaver.”

“Anytime, Seb. I’ll be there to get you in a few hours, right?”

“Yep. See you soon. Thanks.”

He hangs up, and I listen to the dead air for a moment, wishing for one more moment of connection. Then I go have Lou, one of my favorite coworkers, ring up two cases of juice for Bram’s twins. I load them into my car before getting back to work. It’s a long, slow day, but that could be because I’m antsy from watching the clock.

I can’t wait for my shift to end so I can head over to the party with Seb. His family won’t mind if we’re a bit late, but I need to be there to support him if this is one of those nights when the reminders of everything he wants and can’t have worm their way into his psyche.

I have to ring up a customer, and work picks up steadily from there for a bit, but my day passes in mindless monotony, repeating the same motions and the same small talk. I have too much time to think.

The whole twins versus clutchmates thing is a minor detail, but the key to it is that it means Seb and his clutchmates each grew up having their own hatchday celebration. And now each of Seb’s niblings have their own day to be celebrated too. It’s the polar opposite to how I felt overlooked and forgotten next to my younger brother growing up, even though we were never wombmates despite sharing a birth year.

Each toddler getting their own party feels remarkable to me, but that’s just the way Seb and his family do everything. They treat each other with loving acceptance and a knack for making each member of their family feel special. Like Seb planning to let me experience a synthetic heat with an alpha he knew would treat me well.

It was a gift I didn’t think I could have. An experience so intrinsic to how I was raised to define being an omega and yet seemingly impossible for me to know firsthand. Seb saw something I couldn’t have articulated about myself and he gave me a chance to embrace being as fully omega as I have ever felt in my life.

The enormity of being understood so deeply is a warmth nestled in my chest. And a growing pressure to gather my courage and ask Seb for what I truly want—a lifetime in his bed. Whether it’s the platonic cuddling we’ve shared for years or something more overtly sexual. It’s a thrumming what if? that buzzes just under my skin. I should have said something on the phone earlier. Called him out on why he felt the need to repay me for something as trivial as juice for babies we both love. I should talk to him about all the things I want from him. The future I scarcely dare to dream for us.

What if we really could be the mates his entire flock already accepts us as? What if I could be part of a shifter family for real? An omega mate? Enough?

Whenever I think about it lately, my heart pounds a giddy staccato. As I stand by my register during an afternoon lull, I allow myself a brief fantasy of Seb kissing me at the next flock barbeque. Or openly spooning up against me under our pile of colorful mismatched quilts and fuzzy blankets and decorative pillows. Our bed is a riot of colors and textures and shiny beadwork and sequins. A sensory feast of treasures fit to line any raven’s nest. A perfect cozy den for two.

I shake myself out of horny raccoon thoughts about snuggling into my den with my mate and try to clear my head. What the heck? I’m not normally so easily distracted at work. Oh. I inhale deeper, testing the air. Mel.

Her scent blockers must have worn off because I can smell the overripe sweetness of her heat pheromones from three aisles away now. She needs to call her mate for a ride home. My mind wanders to thoughts of the shifter my raccoon is convinced should be our mate. Which might mean her pheromones are getting to me—they never did when I was presenting as a beta. Must be the O doing its thing for me, I’ll have to tell Seb.

And I’m back to wishing Seb could be my mate. Pure folly. I can’t ask him to settle for a broken shifter like me. No matter how much I want a future where I can pull Seb into our den with me, he deserves better. I long to be wrapped in Seb’s arms as we exchange lazy kisses that lead to even lazier lovemaking. But then reality slaps into me, because I can’t give him the type of traditional mating he wants. No clutch, no alpha. Just two broken omegas clinging to each other while we drown in our own fears.

Even considering the possibility of risking what we have by getting too greedy makes my belly flip sickeningly. It’s like tipping over the peak of a rollercoaster into freefall the one time my parents took us to an amusement park for my birthday.

As if celebrating the occasion with their stereotype of how static human families do it would make me embrace the life in exile they imagined was best for me. Seb is the first shifter who made me feel like I belong with my own kind. The contrast between him and my family couldn’t be more clear. After our disastrous first ride on the roller coasters, I puked all over my siblings. They didn’t take being in the splash zone nearly as well as Seb did the night we met.

Seb is the kindest person I’ve ever had in my life, even if there is something weird going on with him and our medication. I trust him. He’d tell me if there was anything I needed to worry about. He’s everything I picture when my inner raccoon wants nothing more than to inhale the sickly sweet scent of heat pheromones wafting across the store.

I need to focus. Mel. My employee needs to get home to her mate. I probably should have just sent her home at lunch when she had no appetite for lunch. That’s a classic sign of an impending heat. I would have noticed her scent changing sooner if I hadn’t gotten so distracted with Seb.

“Mel?” I call her name and her head whips toward me with a feral intensity in her eyes. Her badger shifter nature has her ready to meet any perceived threat.

“Hm?” She asks, some of the bow-string tension leaving her muscles when she realizes it’s me and I’m not a threat.

“When was your last dose of scent blockers?”

“Dunno? Morning break?” Mel’s eyes widen, expression sliding from puzzled to oh shit as she gets why I’m asking. “I’ll go take another dose. Sorry, boss.”

“Yeah, good idea. Might be time to call your mate for a ride too,” I suggest in a tone that brooks no argument.

Mel bites her lip. “I can probably make it until five if I just have an extra break to take more scent blockers and a heat suppressor. We were hoping to time it for after my mate drops our kids off with my in-laws tonight, but these things are never as precise as we’d like, you know?” She glances dubiously toward the clock, but I’m already shaking my head. It’s easier to focus when I can see the feverish gleam in her eyes.

“No, don’t worry about work; do you have a ride home?” I wave away her offer to tough out the rest of the shift. Harvey is firm about enforcing our heat leave policy, and sending her home is the right call, regardless.

“Yeah, my mate was antsy about letting me come in today. She says my scent was already changing at breakfast. I only took the scent blockers to humor her.” Mel grimaces. We exchange one of those omega-to-omega looks as she rubs at her lower belly. “I thought she was just being a typical over-protective alpha. Sorry, the cramps are getting to me, you know how it is.”

Mel is a newer coworker who isn’t familiar with my history so it doesn’t even occur to her to question whether I know what she’s going through firsthand. Thanks to Seb, I do know. I can reassure her that I’ve been there and truly mean it.

In the past I’ve tried to extrapolate the crampy feeling from my handful of pubescent periods to the way I’ve heard the prodrome of a heat described, but truly understanding the way heat hormones affect my entire body and the heightening of my already shifter-sharp senses as primal instincts come to the fore is new.

“I know, it’s intense. You’ll feel better once you’re home,” I assure her. “For now, close your register, go wait in the breakroom and call your mate. I’ve got things handled out here. I’ll come check on you if she’s not here in the next fifteen minutes, deal?”

Mel hesitates, then nods and does as I said. “Deal.”

Even as I give Mel a sympathetic smile and make sure she has everything she needs to wait for her ride in the breakroom, I can’t help a giddy swoop of joy in the pit of my stomach that I can truly relate to an experience I never thought I would have for myself. A shared lexicon, all thanks to Seb.

Mel’s mate picks her up less than ten minutes later. With only one other cashier on duty, I have to call Harvey out from his office to help close out Mel’s cash drawer properly once she’s gone. He notices the way Mel’s scent lingers and spends the rest of my work shift in the front helping out until I’m steadier and my thoughts stop looping back to getting Seb naked. Harvey notices my clock-watching and sends me home early.

“Why don’t you head out too, Rollie? I know you have a family party tonight, right?”

“Yeah. Sort of. I mean, Seb does,” I stammer over correcting him, mostly because I want it to be true so I can really be a part of Seb’s family.

If I’m honest, Bram’s kids feel more like my niblings than Alan’s ever have. I’ve only been in the same room as my blood-related niece and nephew a handful of times and they largely ignore me to play with the silly animated filters when their omega dad makes them video chat with me to thank me for the holiday gifts I send them.

I can’t bring myself to deny that I love Kyrie like family, but I can’t claim Seb as my mate and his family as my own either. It’s a bitter knot of words to swallow down.

“Ah, still haven’t spoken to Sebastian about making things official?” Harvey nods knowingly and claps me on the shoulder as he eases me aside to take up my post behind the cash register.

“No.” I admit. It’s not like we spend a lot of time talking about my roommate, but he knows I live with Seb and the situation is complicated.

“Here, since I called you in on your day off, I got a little something for the birthday kid, they’re avian right?” Harvey hands me a card with Kyrie’s name printed on the back in his tidy handwriting.

“Yeah.” I nod, choked up at the kind gesture.

“You know what I say about family, Rollie?” he arches a bushy silver brow the same hue as his wolf’s wooly undercoat at me.

“It takes more than matching fur to make a pack?” I mutter the truism, unable to hide the hint of a smile at the familiar reminder that he sees me as part of his pack.

“That’s right. That applies to feathers too; go celebrate with your flock, son. I appreciate you coming in today to help out.” He squeezes my shoulder comfortingly. “And remember that I appreciate everything you do around here. I’m proud of how much you’ve grown into the management role.”

His kind words hit me like a sucker punch. Harvey has been a mentor to me for years, hearing that he’s proud of me is—complicated. He had no obligation to take a chance on mentoring me to take over running the market one day. He has other business ventures, and other packless young shifters whom he mentors, but most of the stray young shifters he collects are at least his fellow wolf shifters.

Harvey’s lovingly paternal role in my life is everything I wished my parents could be. It took finally moving here to snuff out the vain hope that if I was just good enough, they might love me. Harvey sees my worth more clearly than my actual parents ever have, and much as I love him for it, I’m still mourning what could have been with the raccoon gaze I grew up being a part of. Harvey notices my visceral reaction and hugs me around the shoulder.

Hazards of being close with wolf shifters—they’re huggers. Raven shifters show affection with preening gestures and shiny trinkets, wolf shifters show it with touch, getting their scent on you. Raccoons…well—my home gaze always made it clear that I wasn’t really one of them despite our shared form. Mostly I show I care with gifts, but I hug Harvey back.

It would have been easy to resent the animal form I share with my family and the gaze of raccoon shifters who made me feel like an outcast growing up. But just because they didn’t accept me as one of their own doesn’t mean my raccoon isn’t integral to every part of me. Much as they might have wanted to, my family couldn’t take my fur and all that it entails from me, even if they never made me feel like a part of their gaze.

I love everything about my other form from the warmth of my downy fur on a chilly night to the way my tail helps me to balance on narrow ledges, fingers made for climbing and foraging with my sharpened senses. And I love how Seb always lights up when he sees me in my fur. He gets all sappy about the darker band of fur around my eyes, calling me adorable whenever I look at him too long in my animal form.

I treasure the times I get to bask in his attention. Perching on his shoulders to keep him company on the days he cooks for us. How easily he pets my fur when I curl up beside him on the couch after a long day when human thoughts seem too exhausting to handle. Despite all that, Seb touching me all over can be complicated and confusing because of avian customs around preening. With Harvey it’s simpler. His hug is fatherly and warm, and I let myself relax into it for once.

“I hope you know I consider you part of my pack too,” Harvey says as he pats my back three times, drawing out the affection as long as I allow it. As soon as I tense to pull away, he steps back to give me space. “Your nibling is turning two, right? You know how we wolf shifters are; pups are a treasure, enjoy your family time and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah. Thanks, Harvey.” I’m all choked up, but he gives me a kind smile and pretends not to notice me brushing away tears. I clock out and text Seb that I’m on my way.

Kyrie’s hatchday party is just like every other time we’re around Seb’s family lately. He’s happy, while we’re there, but I know to brace for another emotional crash afterward. Bram is clearly in full on nesting mode, bossing his mate and siblings around with setting up refreshments and fussing over the decorations. He’s got the nursery looking picture perfect already, and he hugs me and tears up like I got him a one-of-a-kind masterpiece when I hand his mate two full boxes of the twins’ favorite juice.

“You’re a godsend!” Bram noisily kisses the air beside my cheeks, an affectation he must have picked up from the movies he’s been binging since he’s supposed to be taking it easy with the higher risk mixed species pregnancy. He hasn’t been allowed to shift in months and his poor raven is cranky with it, Seb foists his box of juice off onto Ty at the first chance and greets his niblings.

It’s obvious my bestie adores Bram’s kids. Myra runs up to him and they exchange a complicated handshake.

They chat about her summer plans before her folks joke that they need Seb to teach them his interrogation skills. Bram laments that the pre-teen omega only shrugs and gives two-word answers when he and Ty ask about her day.

Myra flounces off, acting too cool to hang out with the adults and toddlers. She disappears into the living room to play video games with Cory and Elric.

“So, guess I’m all but officially not the coolest uncle anymore?” Seb stares after his niece, then turns and pouts at his brother. Cory technically still has to have his fledging ceremony before he makes ‘uncle’ his flock-official title for the niblings to use, but Seb’s point stands. Especially now that Elric has their fledging officially entered into the flock records.

Bram laughs. His layers of bauble necklaces clack together when he fiddles with them. He claps Seb on the shoulder, hugging him awkwardly with his big round belly in the way. “Don’t take it personally. She’s having a day. ”

Bram’s mate, Ty, snorts. Their skirt swishes around their ankles as they come to greet us, a toddler on each hip. Ty gives a rueful shake of her head. “I keep telling these cubs they should stay this little instead of growing into surly teenagers.”

Ty’s voice lilts up toward baby talk as she turns toward each toddler, kissing their chubby cheeks. Leighton squirms to get free, shifting into their raven form and swooping over to Seb’s shoulder. Ty yelps as the kid escapes their grasp, clutching Kyrie tighter until the hatchday kid squawks indignantly.

“Still not used to that,” Ty says, her free hand going to her throat, as if to calm her fear-quickened pulse.

I’m not used to avian shifter babies taking flight on a whim either—I sympathize with the startled expression on their mapa’s face. Sudden shifts like that are less alarming with the older kids who are more than capable of running around on two legs as well as on the wing. Or with raccoon kits who have the sense to stay on all fours and clinging to their caretakers when they shift.

Seb coos to the little raven on his shoulder. Leighton tilts their head to demand Seb scratch itchy pin feathers for them.

Kyrie reaches for him too. “Unca Sev!”

Seb takes the kid from their parent, and lifts Kyrie up into the air, making them giggle with glee and throw their arms wide like they’re flying.

“Wheee!” Kyrie shrieks. Leighton flaps in a croaking circuit of the room, unhappy with their perch moving on them. I watch Seb grinning at his giggling nibling. The way he looks holding his brother’s child makes my heart ache for him. He should have this too. It’s not fair.

I wish I could give him the life of his dreams. I can’t. Even if it weren’t for his creep diagnosis, I couldn’t have kids with him, or offer to carry a clutch for him. The difference between us is that I’ve known since puberty that it’s not possible for me. I’ve had time to accept that my happily ever after doesn’t hold a baby shifter who looks like me and shares my form or my mate’s laughing eyes. The thing about living in Four Corners is, I’ve seen that family goes so much deeper than a shared second form.

My parents raised me among other raccoon shifters, but I never felt as accepted among them as I do here in a mixed shifter community. Even though I presented as a beta when I first moved here, the better part of a decade later, everyone knows me as the omega I am. Four Corners and Seb’s rave in particular, has welcomed me with open arms.

Even as I think that, Bram comes over and hugs me, just as warm with me as always. I hold out the gift bag Seb and I stuffed full of goodies for the hatchday kid.

Bram takes the gift, then he nudges me toward the spread of refreshments in the kitchen and dining room where most of the family has gathered.

“Glad you could make it, Rollie. How’ve you been?” Bram asks.

“Fine. Staying busy.” I shuffle toward the snacks and grab a few juicy berries off a fruit tray.

“That’s good. I don’t suppose the shop needs extra help? I’m getting so sick of being on a forced sabbatical with the zoo until this stubborn little cub makes their grand entry. Dr. Martinez said if this clutch was in raven form then I could shift up to birth, but they’re a stubborn little cub like their mapa, giving me grief already. We’re thinking of Rascal as a hatch name.” Bram rubs a hand fondly over his belly, his teasing words at odds with how clearly he already adores the new addition to his family.

I try not to wonder what it would be like to experience that. Or to watch Seb glowing with a new life growing inside him. I try not to let envy override the fact that I like Bram and I’m happy for him. Still, I’m guiltily glad it’s not a lie when I say, “I’m sorry, we’re not hiring at the moment.”

“Too bad. I figured that was a long shot.” Bram grimaces. “Harvey isn’t my biggest fan anyway. You screw up one hunt…”

Bram mumbles to himself about wolf shifters taking hunting too seriously. Harvey is one of the pack’s more influential alphas in addition to owning several of the Four Corners wolf pack’s business ventures. I’ve heard the way the young raven shifters and their wolf counterparts gossip about each other. Both groups of shifters have a long-standing tradition of working together to train their youngsters in how to hunt in the animal forms.

“Mhm.” I nod along sympathetically, not wanting to contradict him or badmouth my boss.

From what Seb’s told me, there was more than one spoiled hunt that got Bram on the wolf shifter pack’s no-hire list, but I’m not about to get in the middle of that drama.

“Oh! That reminds me.” Bram touches my wrist, fingers brushing gently over the bracelet Seb gave me for the holidays in a gesture meant to make me focus on him. “Seb said he’d think about covering for me during my leave at the zoo, since Freya and Theron are expecting too. Theron gets broody with his clutches. So I got a couple of the cousins to apply, but if Seb takes even a part-time position, they have shifter medical specialists on staff to do a full work up.”

“That would be good.” I nod along, gently withdrawing from his hold to add a cookie to my plate. If Seb wasn’t dead set against working outside the shifter community, then I might even try to convince him to hear his brother out about the job, just for that.

“Yes, so I’ve been meaning to see if you’d try to convince him to apply? He listens to you. And Dr. Martinez is amazing. He’s even found ways to help avian shifters with creep have a clutch. Not carrying a pregnancy yet, but he’s working with a clinic that has helped several avian shifters with creep who present as alphas successfully get their omega mates pregnant.”

“That sounds like a major breakthrough.” Hope for Seb soars inside me.

“Yeah, for now they’ve only found ways to make it work with alpha HRT, but maybe they’ll find a way to stimulate ovulation too, now that there’s some basis for hoping creep can be at least partially reversed?”

“Maybe.” My face falls, the dim ember of hope for Seb to get his happily ever after crashes and burns at the mention of needing to take alpha hormones for the treatment.

If I know anything about Seb, it’s that he would never want to purposely present as an alpha. Even if it meant siring a clutch of his own with a hypothetical healthy omega mate. I doubt he’d even consider it and I’m certain Bram has mentioned the possibility because sure as Seb will go to any length to bury his emotions until they fester and rot, Bram can’t help blurting out every well-meaning thought that enters his head if he thinks he can help someone he loves.

“Well, the best part is that it’s all covered as part of his compensation and Dr. Martinez is basically the top expert in the US, he works with the clinic that developed the protocol. And if he says that Seb needs a more expensive brand of hormone replacement, that will be covered by the zoo insurance too. Regardless, the doc will do a full workup on him to see why his meds aren’t working the way they’re supposed to. I know he’s sensitive about it so I try not to pry into his medical stuff, but we all worry about him. So this would be perfect!”

“His meds aren’t working?” I ask, alarm bells going off in the back of my mind. Something isn’t adding up. Seb gets the meds for us both. Anytime I’ve had doubts about how he does that, Seb claims everything is fine. He says it’s all under control and the way he smells like an alpha sometimes is just the expected progression of his condition. Or more recently he claims it’s all a weird side effect from our change in suppliers. We don’t lie to each other. Not about something like that, so I’ve let it drop. But it sounds like Bram is saying this isn’t typical.

“Well, no? I don’t know how much he’s told you about creep in avian shifters?” Bram shuffles his feet, looking as though he’d rather fly away from this conversation if he dared take to his feathers. Well, too bad for him. I need answers about whatever fears and doubts have been eating Seb alive for years now. Since before he moved in with me.

“He told me that most avian omegas have one dominant ovary and creep attacks it. The other, under-developed, ovary sometimes starts to grow into a testicle if they leave it untreated. But he’s on hormone replacement therapy, so at worst his other ovary should remain dormant. And the part that bothers him the most is infertility and not having heats anymore.”

“Yeah.” Bram nods. “That’s a pretty good summary.” He glances over my shoulder to where Seb is still playing with Kyrie.

Seb’s got a big grin plastered all over his face as he focuses on his youngest nibling. My heart aches for him and the unfairness of life. I know he adores his brother’s kids. And equally, I know how low his mood will sink later when we go home and the silence of our home emphasizes that he’s never going to have a clutch of his own to make the rooms echo with giggles and laughter.

No raucous calls of a baby raven perched near the roof or the rough and tumble of a furry little cub playfully attacking his feet. No sleepy kits with their furry little masks napping in our colorful cuddle pile of soft things.

Our walls will just echo silence back at us tonight, emphasizing the absence. Not that we’re even a couple. But maybe that’s worse. Maybe I’m in the way of him finding a mate who could at least give him the companionship he keeps looking for in strangers’ beds.

Bram rubs at his belly, as though he’s thinking similar thoughts and needs reassurance that his picture perfect family is real.

“So, what’s the problem?”

Bram bites his lip, shakes his head and then blurts. “I figured you knew? I mean, I can always smell alpha on him, even when he’s not—you know—with an alpha.”

“Isn’t that typical with creep?” I ask. Seb told me it is. He promised I didn’t need to worry.

“Untreated creep in an avian, yes. Not on HRT.” Bram shakes his head. “Seb’s hormone levels never seem to be high enough to keep him in the omega range. So he looks and smells more alpha, and the more it happens, the more his body will keep making the alpha hormones that make him appear more typically alpha.”

“Oh.” That’s not what Seb would want at all. There has to be a way to stop it. A reason it’s happening.

“I mean, I don’t care how Seb presents.” Bram flaps his hands in front of him, as if to wave away the very notion. “He’s my clutchmate and I love him. To me, it’s simple, as long as he tells us he’s an omega, that’s who he is, no matter what goes on with his health. But Ty says that’s not enough when your body feels wrong, and she would know better than me.” Bram shrugs. “They say being trans isn’t the same as what’s going on with Seb, either. More like being intersex, if he was static? Only that’s not quite right either, since it’s his secondary gender and that’s a static human term. Maybe more like a beta? All I know is that his hormones aren’t matching up with the rest of his anatomy or who he is in his heart, and it sucks.”

“And the zoo medical people can help?” I ask, grasping onto hope instead of getting into the semantics of it all. Technically creep meets the definition for considering a shifter a beta, but that’s an oversimplification and it’s far from the point.

“Felix thinks so, yeah.” Bram nods. “So that’s why I think he should consider applying at Willowdale. They can make sure he’s healthy. And who knows, maybe they could even help him have a clutch someday. For now they’ve only had success with using alpha HRT, but Felix says they’re working on something to go the other way and it looks promising. If it works, he might be able to have a clutch some day.”

“Don’t tell Seb that!” I snap without thinking. False hope would only hurt Seb. And dangling an unproven miracle cure in front of him to manipulate him into doing what Bram thinks is best would be cruel, not to mention manipulative. I won’t be a party to that. Not at all. “Not unless you know for sure it’s real.”

“Oh, no. Of course not.” Bram looks taken aback at my vehemence, and I make an effort to smooth my face. He doesn’t know that he stepped on a raw nerve with his meddling. Bram does it because he truly loves his family. It’s not about saving face with other shifters or controlling Seb. He isn’t like my parents. “That’s why I told you. He listens to you and I really think they could help him.” Bram looks sad as we both glance over at his brother.

Seb is on the ground now, with Kyrie and Leighton both clamoring over him in their bear cub forms, as though he’s a climbing structure for their amusement. I wish I could give him the sort of family Bram is building with his mate. Even if I’m not a part of that picture. Even if it means encouraging him to take a job that forces him outside of his comfort zone and pushing him to meet someone who can give him the family he wants. Sick dread pools in my gut and I don’t think I’m going to be able to eat any of the snacks on display in front of us.

“Yeah. I’ll mention he should apply,” I promise, stepping away from Bram and the refreshments.

I can’t give Seb all his dreams, but if I can play even a tiny role in helping him get comfortable in his own skin again, that’s more than enough. Especially if the nauseating realization taking root in the pit of my stomach proves to be founded.

Seb wouldn’t hurt himself to help me, would he? Of course he would. I’d do the same for him in a heartbeat. Even if it means letting him go. I’m pretty sure I figured out where he gets our medication and why his dose isn’t high enough to stave off his creep symptoms.

It was monumentally na?ve of me not to realize the truth ages ago. Seb didn’t find a way to get me a dubiously legal prescription of my own, he’s been splitting his with me. Seb has been lying to me and hurting himself right in front of me for years. Fuck.

As soon as I can do so politely, I duck into the bathroom to shift in private. Then I retreat to the living room to spend most of the party in my fur. They ignore me for the most part and it’s mindlessly soothing to watch the teens play video games and stream an amateur ghost-hunter exploring a haunted hotel.

I wait until after the party to bring up what Bram and I discussed with Seb. It feels wrong, an unsettled squirming in my gut, to have talked about him behind his back. But I can’t just sit on what Bram told me. Not when I keep circling back to the growing certainty that my happiness is being bought at the price of his health. Besides, this is the missing piece to the conversation he promised me we could have tonight. Now.

I should have questioned where Seb has been getting my medication before now. All the little details that never added up suddenly make sense. The fact he didn’t need a prescription for me. That the pills for both of us come prepackaged in matching pill organizers. The fact our meds look the same even though his dose as an avian shifter with creep is supposed to be double mine as a mammalian shifter. The half tablets. Fuck. Was I truly that willfully ignorant about what he was sacrificing for me?

Tonight isn’t the time to confront him for lying to me. I know that. If for no other reason, then simply because I know how triggering it will be to hear someone I love and trust admit that he took away my choices when he withheld important medical information from me.

I can’t stay calm if we discuss that part of this while it’s still so new and raw, but I also can’t hold in the anger and shame at not noticing sooner. Or banish my fear of what this might have done to him. I glance over to see Seb’s fingers clenches on the steering wheel, a partial shift turning his nails talon-like with the typical restlessness I expect of him when he can’t stand to hear his own thoughts for another second. Yeah, he’s already planning where to find some nameless alpha to fuck him senseless. We have to have this conversation tonight. Before he hurts himself.

“Seb?” I try to get his attention as he drives us the short distance from Bram’s place back to our home. He is so intent on the road, I can almost believe he didn’t hear me.

“Sebastian?” I repeat.

I never call him by his full name; it makes him flinch. He heard me.

My voice trembles with nerves because I don’t know how this confrontation is going to go when we’re both in the wrong place for a fight. My head is reeling, and it all comes back to the same cardinal point. Seb lied to me about something huge. Something that matters. He denied me a choice about myself.

“What?” his voice cracks like a whip and I flinch. “Are you going to ask me to stay home tonight? Tell me to be a good omega for you?”

“No.” My mouth goes dry.

“Good. Because I don’t think I can handle sitting at home and knowing I’ll never have all of that—what Bram has.”

“You could.” My voice lacks conviction.

Seb shakes his head sharply. “No.”

“Why not?”

“How would I support kids? Who would trust me with them? I have a record, remember? The DUI? They deserve better than I can give them.” Seb turns his back on me.

I bite my cheek because there is no way on earth I could forget that night. No matter how much I wish it never happened. I have nightmares about sleeping through his phone call that night. Or hesitating before messaging his brother to call 911 and using the tracking app on his phone to send help that barely arrived in time.

Fighting about it isn’t going to fix anything though, so I force myself to remain calm. I can’t bring up the lies about our HRT when he’s already this close to the edge. We need to talk about that part, but not tonight.

“You could get a job outside Four Corners.” I keep my tone neutral. “Bram says the zoo needs more raven shifters. I bet they’d help you adopt. Or hell, your clutchmates would do anything for you. Have you asked them about surrogacy?”

Seb recoils like I slapped him. “I wouldn’t do that.”

“No?”

“No.” He shakes his head vehemently. “Bram couldn’t give up a clutch he carried. I know my brother.”

“What about Winny?”

Seb shakes his head again. “No.”

“If I could…”

“I’d have a clutch with you in a heartbeat if we could, Rollie. But we can’t.”

I don’t bother arguing. I might smell like an omega now, thanks to the havoc switching to the generic formulation of his medication is having on us both.

The point we’re both dancing around is that I still lack some of the necessary organs to carry kits. It’s okay, the HRT has given me more than I dared to hope for. It’s enough for me. I can even have synthetically induced heats now. Sure, they’re not fertile and I have to use synthetic slick to help things along if I want to take a knot comfortably, but I get all the other symptoms. It’s one of the most validating things I’ve ever experienced, even the feverish flush to my skin, and the unpleasant cramps and nausea leading up to it.

“What about the zoo?” I try again to give Seb a better way forward. I promised Bram that I’d ask, and it might actually be good for Seb to get checked out by the shifter specialists there.

“Did Bram put you up to asking me that?” Seb demands, voice flat. That’s worse than annoyance or anger.

“He mentioned they’re hiring to cover his parental leave. But I think you might enjoy having more of a set schedule.”

“Less time to mope around your house, you mean.”

Ouch, the fact he still doesn’t see it as ours is a low blow. I press a fist to my chest, as if I can ease the non-corporeal ache those words cause.

“No, it’s just one option. Something to give you purpose. It doesn’t have to be the zoo. But everyone here knows you. They have…certain ideas…”

“I’ve got a bad reputation. I know.”

“Yeah.” I don’t bother denying what we both know. It’s one of the reasons he leaves the town for most of his hookups these days.

Seb takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “If you want me to apply for a job at the zoo, I’ll do it. On one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“You apply too.” Seb turns toward me, a challenge in his bright eyes.

“Me?” I ask, taken aback. “Who wants to see a raccoon at a zoo? They can see us in their backyards.”

Seb rolls his eyes. “They can see ravens in their yards too. We’re ubiquitous. Heck, this is Maine; they can see bears like Ty and deer and moose and all sorts of static animals out in nature, if they wanted to. The point of the zoo is that it makes it easy to see lots of animals gathered in one place. And maybe learn enough about us to get involved with conservation efforts for static animals. Or at least support shifter rights, because we made them smile for an afternoon.”

I shrug. “Okay. If you apply, so will I.” And if he can withhold key information, so can I. A promise to apply is not a promise to accept if they offer me the job.

“Really?” Seb arches a brow. “Even if it means quitting at the market?”

“Is that what you want?” I ask, his request making more sense. He’s never liked me working there. I’m not sure what he has against the local wolf pack. I know Bram had some issues scouting on hunts when he was a fledgling. Winny mentioned that Seb’s first heartbreak was a wolf shifter alpha. But surely that’s not a reason to ask me to leave a job I love?

Seb sniffs, refusing to meet my eyes. “You stink of wet dog when you get home.”

“I smell like wolf shifter, because Harvey is my boss,” I say. Harvey and Seb are the two shifters who first made Four Corners feel like a place I could call home. Seb has to realize how much he is asking for with this request.

Seb grinds his teeth. “Right.”

“And you don’t like that?”

“I don’t like wolf alphas.” He sets his jaw. Right. I don’t push for more details, Seb has enough exes for me to guess why. And that isn’t probably not my business unless he chooses to share details.

“Okay. I’m still not sure they’ll take a raccoon, but I’ll apply if it will make you happy, Seb.” Nothing says I have to take the zoo job, even if I get an offer. Or I could still work for Harvey on the side. That’s tempting.

An additional consistent income would mean I can spoil my niblings more, get Seb something extra sparkly for his hatchday. Or pay off my mortgage faster. Heck, if I take the weekend shifts at the zoo and stick with my weekday managerial schedule at the market, I might even be able to save up enough to approach Harvey about buying into the business as a partner sooner. It’s something he’s mentioned in the past.

For now, that’s still a far off future plan. Harvey runs so many of the local wolf pack’s businesses here in Four Corners that he’s always on the lookout for dedicated employees to invest in training.

Seb knows I want to build my career at the market. He just doesn’t know that I have a real chance to buy into the business and maybe even own it entirely someday when Harvey is ready to retire. It’s another gut punch for him to ask me to give it up because he doesn’t want me to smell like another alpha, considering how often he crawls into the bed we share smelling like some strange alpha’s cum and of a pain that has nothing to do with the physical.

“What will make me happy is if you get seen by a doctor who will actually listen to you and give you the help you need.” He juts out his chin belligerently. “And stop believing the pretty lies some wolf alpha tells you about how he can make all your dreams come true. As soon as you can’t give him what he wants he’ll turn on you. That’s what they do.”

Ah, so Seb knows exactly what he’s asking me to turn my back on by leaving my job. And he thinks he’s protecting me. I shake my head at his misguided sweetness. Pieces slot together in my head. The ex who left him over his diagnosis overlaps with that first love he’s so tight lipped about. The slightly older alpha wolf his clutchmates only whisper about with quietly seething hate.

Bram and Winny assure me that Harvey dealt with the situation as soon as he found out about it. Seb’s ex is exiled from the Four Corners pack, no amount of digging gets me much more information than that. Seb has shared just enough for me to piece together that the voice that drives him to his riskiest behaviors probably sounds an awful lot like his ex. Or not him, so much as that hateful shifter’s words wormed their way so deep into Seb’s psyche that he can’t tell they’re lies.

Seb tells the story so clinically, it has to hide a world of suffering. He boils it all down to saying he almost got mated before his diagnosis. They figured out he had creep in the early stages because he was trying for a clutch before they made it official. His alpha didn’t want a defective mate, so he dumped Seb in the parking lot after the testing confirmed creep. The math on that makes it even worse since we met in our early twenties and Seb had already had his diagnosis for years. I try not to dwell on it because I can’t undo his trauma and feeling homicidal toward an alpha I hope to never meet doesn’t help anyone.

“Bram says they have great doctors on staff, so that shouldn’t be an issue as long as I get the job and can make the hours work. But I’m not quitting at the Market, Seb. You know I like my job and Harvey treats me well.” It’s on the tip of my tongue to assure him that Harvey isn’t like his ex, but that will only plunge his mood into even worse territory, so I leave it at setting a firm boundary around my career.

Seb scowls. “You trust too easily, but fine. Keep the stupid job with the pack. We can still get you checked out by a shifter specialist. The zoo policy covers mates too.”

“Mates?” I blink at him, my heart skipping a beat at him saying that in this context. It can’t be as simple as Seb just offering my heart’s desire to me, just like that?

“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “We can tell them we’re mated so you can get coverage with my benefits.”

Oh. Nope. That hurts. A deep ache. Of course he didn’t mean for it to be real.

“We aren’t mated, Seb.” My mouth goes dry. He can’t know that I’d love nothing more than to be his mate. I’ve never cared about anyone the way I do him. Lying about that might just kill me.

Seb rolls his eyes and reaches over to shove my shoulder. “Duh. But we’ve been living together for the past two years and we sleep in the same bed.”

We share a prescription. It’s on the tip of my tongue to throw that in his face, but this isn’t the way to bring it up. I need to be calm when we have that chat, and I’m the farthest thing from calm right now.

“So, you think we can just lie to them indefinitely? What if one of us meets someone?” I demand. Him , what if he meets someone who makes him want more than one night? Where will I be when he leaves me behind to build a family with some alpha? That will hurt regardless, but if he does it after I get a taste of the world seeing us as mated and being allowed and expected to encourage that perception? I don’t think I can handle that kind of whiplash.

Seb snorts. “If some lucky shifter sweeps you off your feet, then we can fake break up. Or add him to our mating. Polyam is a thing, you know. Pretty sure Felix, Bram’s boss, is a squirrel shifter. So he should know all about that.”

I sigh. “Stereotyping much?”

Seb snorts. “No, it’s just how squirrels do things. Like how the rave all likes to nest together.” Seb parks in front of our building and sits in the driver’s seat without making any move to get out of the vehicle. “You mind if I borrow the car?”

Yes.

“No.”

“Cool. I’ll get a taxi if I have more than a beer.”

“If you have more than a soda,” I counter.

Seb sighs loudly, but he nods. “Yes, third mom.”

“You want company?” I ignore his taunting. He’s baiting me because he wants a fight. A fight or a hard fuck and I’d vastly prefer to give him the latter.

“I want to get every last thought fucked out of my head, Rollie.” Seb echoes my thoughts.

I bite back my immediate response, you don’t need to go to a stranger for that. Instead, I steal myself for the next best thing. The safe option that doesn’t risk tipping over the familiar grooves of our friendship. “I could go with you. It’s been awhile since we picked up together.”

Seb stares at me for a long moment, and I’m certain he’s going to reject the offer. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” I nod. “I want to get laid too.” Another lie of omission, I want to get laid by him. Only him.

Seb blows out a breath and nods. “Alright then.” A hint of a grin plays at his lips. “Let’s go find an alpha to fuck us.”

“Or, we don’t have to find a stranger for that.” The words slip out before I can think better of them.

Seb’s head whips toward me so fast I’m surprised he doesn’t hurt himself. “What?”

“I can fuck you. Better than some stranger. We were good together during our heat. I—if I could have a real heat, then I’d want to share it with you. Only you.”

He stares at me and I can’t read his expression. Neither of us breaks the tense silence at first. When we do, I’m not sure who moves first, but I lunge toward him and he catches me, his mouth crashing into mine, his fingers clench in the front of my shirt, twisting the fabric and dragging me halfway over the console so he can shove his tongue down my throat. I moan.

He tastes like cinnamon and sugar, sweet as the icing on Kyrie’s hatchday cake earlier. I drag my hand down his chest, tugging at the hoop in his left nipple until he gasps into my mouth, a needy whine.

“I’d give you every one of my heats if I had any to give,” Seb says. “In a perfect world where I wasn’t broken, I’d give you a clutch, Rollie. I’d give you everything you deserve.”

“I’d give you a kit if I could too. You aren’t broken,” I insist. It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him that he’s all I want, but I’m too much of a coward for that.

“I don’t want to fight. I know we have more to discuss, but I really need to get out of my head for now. Please? Make it hurt, Rollie,” Seb’s eyes burn into mine. He lets go of my shirt and grabs my shoulders, fingers digging in just this side of painful. Seb clings to me like a lifeline, and I’m not sure which of us is keeping the other afloat. “Please!”

I bite my lip, of course Seb is begging me for the one thing I’m not sure I can give him. I never want to hurt him for real. There’s a challenge in his dark eyes though, and I want to meet it. I’m desperate to be enough for him. I twist the hoop through his sensitive nipple, kissing away his gasp in reaction.

Seb moans. He shifts his hold on me to push me back into my chair, following me over the console. He somehow folds himself into the cramped space between me and the dash, crawling into my lap to keep on kissing.

Our breathing comes in ragged asynchronous pants. When Seb straddles me, his ass rubbing over my dick, there’s a wet patch of slick already forming between us and I’m so hard I can’t think straight.

Seb kisses me with all the desperation of a heat. We make out like we’re the only shifters on the planet as Seb gives me a lap dance. The omega I’ve been crushing on forever is slicking all over me like he’s in heat and I’m his mate.

Except none of that can be real. Seb doesn’t have heats. He takes dubiously obtained prescription drugs to simulate heats when he wants to get laid. And no matter what we’re doing right now or what he suggested about faking it earlier, I’m not his mate. I still let him kiss me stupid and grind his ass against me until I come from the friction. Even then, I don’t want it to stop, I want this moment to last forever, because once he comes we’ll have to deal with whether this changes everything.

“Come for me Seb, want you to feel good,” I encourage him when he arches off of me. I want him to believe he deserves to feel good, but I’ll settle for making him come for now.

“Rollie. Can’t…I need—” Seb grinds harder, and I know what he needs. I play with his piercings again, tugging and teasing and finally, when I can tell he’s close, twisting just the way he likes best.

“Oh, fuck.” Seb turns his mouth the crook of my neck, muffling my name with his lips pressed against my skin as he comes in his pants.

Seb grunts and slumps on top of me. I want to hold him, but I’m afraid to end this. Seb coming with me, no buffering presence between us feels like we’ve ventured into a fantastical topsy-turvy land where all my wildest dreams can come true.

My car smells like us and sex with a musky alpha undercurrent. As soon as the orgasm fades, Seb’s nostrils flare. I know what he’s smelling because I smell it too. I love his scent in all of its wonderfully rich variations, but it has always bothered him when he takes on those full-bodied musky alpha undertones. He shudders and scrabbles for the door, his breathing getting ragged again for an entirely different reason.

“I need to go.” Seb leans against the door as he fumbles with the latch, all but tumbling out as it opens. “I’m sorry. I can’t…I need it to hurt, Rollie.” He glances back at me, his brows pinched tight, regret clear as he tries to wipe away his pained frown. He drops to his knees in the gravel of our driveway.

“Seb…” I reach for him, wanting to offer comfort. Desperate to know if it’s fucking me he regrets or leaving. Before I can react, Seb shifts, his raven form bursts free from his shirt and he launches into the air on powerful wings. I stare helplessly after him as he flies impossibly fast, going where I can’t follow.

Neither of us needs to spell out that the hurt he was seeking now makes me sick to think about. What he’s going to find has nothing to do with kinky fun. If he just wanted rough sex, I could enjoy that with him. No, he’s running away to find a stranger who won’t know or care that Seb is looking for an alpha who will harm him without a second thought or a check-in later.

Sex when Seb is in this kind of mood is a way for him to self harm and we both know it. This isn’t about anything good for him. He’s not chasing a consensual good time, or something he enjoys. It’s about punishing himself. He’s running toward the same oblivion he almost found on the scariest, worst night of my life when he tried to kill himself.

I thunk my head back against my seat and groan out my frustration. My lap is damp with a combination of our cooling cum and slick, but my afterglow is completely banished by what just happened. Fuck. I can’t keep doing this. I can’t pretend I can fix this. Him. Or ignore how our broken shards keep tearing each other open.

By the time I collect myself enough to get out of the car, Seb is long gone, probably off to drown out the memory of kissing me with some nameless alpha. While I try to process tonight. Seb kissed me. Made me come and tossed me aside because I can’t be the mate he needs. Seb has been lying to me for years about our medication. Or not lying, exactly, but withholding key information about my medical decisions when he knows how traumatic that is for me. I can’t reconcile that behavior with the fact that I’m worried sick about him right now instead of livid at him.

I should be angry. We should be fighting. Or discussing or anything. But instead he ran away. He’ll find some stranger who can give him the self-destructive things I can’t. Some nameless alpha who has more in common with a knife he’s using to cut himself open until he bleeds out than a lover. And I’ll be left to patch up both of our bloody jagged wounds.

As I lock the car and go through the motions of my bedtime routine alone yet again, it crystalizes something. The time for accepting the status quo is over. We can’t continue like this. I love Seb too much to keep letting him hurt us both by refusing to deal with his trauma. We both deserve better.