“Maybe,” Patrick admitted, eyes tender. “Felix asked us, though.”
Boone held his gaze. “You like him.”
Patrick smiled a little, softer this time. “Yeah.”
The door at the end of the hall opened, and a nurse stepped out, scanning a clipboard. “Boone and Patrick?”
Boone froze for half a second, then stood, smoothing his shirt like that would somehow make him more prepared. “That’s us.”
Patrick stood too, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “What’s the word, ma’am?”
She smiled. “Felix is ready for discharge. He’ll be out in just a moment. You two looked nervous, so I wanted to reassure you. It’s really nice that you came with your friend.”
The two alphas flushed and shuffled their feet, sharing an embarrassed look.
A moment later, Felix came out, looking determined. “It’s done. I want ice cream.”
“Then you get ice cream,” Patrick said, grinning. “Come on, sweetheart. My treat.”
“You were supposed to pay for lunch,” Boone griped.
“No, you cheated and almost knocked me off the roof. Therefore, you lost and had to pay. Suck it up, sunshine.”
Felix sighed and shook his head. “I want chocolate brownie fudge.”
Later that evening,the beach was quiet, late afternoon sunlight spilling across the sand. Boone moved carefully, like the stillnessitself might break if he rushed. He balanced a tray in his hands. It carried tea, a small bowl of cut fruit, and the peanut butter crackers Demarien had been craving all week.
“Hey,” he called softly as he stepped next to his omega.
Demarien was curled on a lounge chair under a blanket, one hand resting over the gentle curve of his belly. He looked up, tired but smiling, the moment he saw him. “You didn’t have to bring all that.”
“I absolutely did,” he said, setting the tray down in the sand before easing himself beside it. “Doctor’s orders. Okay, well, boyfriend’s orders. Same thing.”
Demarien laughed under his breath, shifting slightly as he helped him sit up. “You’re ridiculous. I’m notthatpregnant yet.”
“Mm, but I’m helpful,” he countered, handing him the tea first. “Careful, it’s warm. Chamomile. Supposed to help you relax.”
Demarien took a sip, closing his eyes for a second. “That’s really good.”
“Good,” he said quietly, watching him like he was memorizing the moment.
After he nibbled a bit of fruit, he leaned back again with a soft sigh. “My back’s killing me today. It shouldn’t be this bad yet, should it?”
Boone didn’t hesitate. “Turn a little,” he said gently, already reaching for the edge of the blanket. “Let me.”
Demarien shifted, trusting, and Boone placed his hands carefully along his lower back. His touch was slow, deliberate, as if he was afraid of doing it wrong but determined to get it right. His thumbs pressed in small circles, easing tension inch by inch.
“Like that?” he asked.
“Yeah…” Demarien exhaled, his shoulders dropping. “Don’t stop.”
Boone smiled to himself and kept going, adjusting pressure when he tensed, lightening when he sighed. The beach settled into a comfortable quiet, broken only by the sound of the waves and the soft rhythm of his hands. And the small crab scuttling across the sand to sit on Boone’s foot.
“Casanova,” he greeted solemnly.
Brownie sniffed the crab, then turned away to continue napping.
“You’re really good at this,” Demarien murmured after a while.
