Page 70 of Omega’s Forward

“Sorry, it’s been a long twenty-four hours. Two days. Whatever.” I put the mug down, and the speech comes out easy. “I’m in. You wrote that you don’t require anything from me. Fine. Here’s what I require. I’m in. This is my kid too and I’m in. I’m not being the kind of man my father was. I want to be a real dad. I want to be in for the diapers. Night feeds. School runs. I’m there. All of it.”

He stirs his tea. He doesn’t look at me. “You play eighty games a year on another continent.”

“I’ll make it work. People do.”

“People with nine-to-fives do. You’re the captain of the Barons.” His mouth goes flat on the word Barons. “And you should hear the legal position before you promise anybody anything. This is where I live. British law doesn’t recognize prime matches. There’s no Bureau here, no alpha priority, none of it. This child stays with me.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t do that. Don’t just be agreeable.” Everett’s voice sharpens. “I grew up in your system, Callahan. I know precisely what an alpha with money and a famous face can take when the mood strikes him.”

“I’m not here to take anything off you.”

“You would say that.”

“Then I’ll put it in writing.” His eyes come up at that, and for a second he looks younger, and I want to reach across the counter so badly that I wrap my hand around the hot mug instead.

Don’t just be agreeable, he said.

Well, I’m going to be agreeable whether he likes it or not. Don’t just be agreeable.

But then his eyes narrow. He puts the mug down. “You can’t parent a child from across the ocean, Callahan. I know how it works. That’s what my dad said he’d do and he never turned up unless he wanted something. I’m not putting my kid through that.”

So apparently my role in this is being agreeable while his is being an asshole. Typical Everett Rourke, saying something like that when he’s the one trying to screw me over.

How is it that this one omega can make me so mad?

Suddenly, I don’t feel like being agreeable at all.

My big speech flies out the window. Instead what comes out of my mouth is six months of pure frustration.

“For fuck’s sake, Everett. I’m trying here. I just got on a damned plane to come see you. I’m the one who was willing to try and give the match a go. I’m the one who said you could come stay with me. I’m the one who is willing to try and find a way to make this work. All you do is act like I’m about to do everything I can to fuck up your life.”

He startles. In everything we have been through, I’ve not given him shit like this. Well, he can take it.

“And it’s not me who’s been fucking with you,” I continue. “I know what you said to the league about me. Trying to get me off the ice. What the fuck was that? Despite all that shit, I am still here. I am still trying to meet you halfway and find a way to make it work for our child. And what are you doing? Behaving like you’re some wounded party. What the fuck did I ever do to you?”

I’m an idiot. What the hell am I even doing here? I’m going home. I’m not putting up with this guy. He might smell like heaven on earth, but that’s not enough. It’s just not. I’m done.

I turn my back on him, stalk over to the door to my suitcase when one thought stops me in my tracks.

What I am doing here is trying to be a good dad. That has to be enough.

I turn back, taking a deep breath.

He’s gone very still. He’s staring at me.

“Look, I get it,” I say. “Whatever your reasons were for trying to get me out of the team, I don’t care.” I do care but I’m not going to admit it. “But that’s my kid too. You need to meet me halfway here. You have to. Please.”

He’s still staring. His eyebrows furrow. “Why do you think I was trying to get you out?”

“The morning after the heat broke,” I say, “I went out for your latte. Dorn was in the line behind me. He told me you’d told them to make an example of me.”

There’s a long silence, then he says, “You believed Cade Dorn.”

“Everett—”

“Oh my god. That’s what happened.”