14. The Other Shoe

Olson woketo George’s scent all over him. He smiled into his pillow, wanting George’s camera so he could see the pictures from that photo shoot.

“George,” he murmured, sliding his hand over the warm, strong shape next to him, nuzzling into that muscled back.

267

Why was there a tattoo on George’s shoulder?

Why were there so many scars?

Olson’s heart stuttered. No, this wasn’t George.

George was dead.

He shoved away the old grief and sat bolt upright, staring at the alpha in his bed. Rex. That was his name. The man who had George’s scent and George’s eyes, and who looked at Olson so adoringly that Olson hadn’t been able to send him away.

At the sudden movement, Rex stirred, looking over his shoulder. He smiled. “Olllsonnnn.”

He wriggled around to face Olson, the covers sliding down his body to expose a trail of dark hair down his abdomen. And the twin grooves on his hips, leading further down.

Olson’s insides stirred with remembered pleasure, the memory of being pinned down, Rex filling him relentlessly. The sheer need that had made his entire body ache.

His thoughts stuttered.

He’d gone into heat last night. That was what he’d been about to tell Rex, except they’d both gotten sidetracked. And now there was no lingering ache, no relentless need. “Fuck. We didn’t use a condom, did we?”

Rex tilted his head.

“Fuck. No, we didn’t.” Olson groaned, scrubbing his hands over his face. Did Rex even know the consequences of what they’d done?

When Rex’s father showed up next week—possibly to take him home—what was Olson going to tell him? That he’d slept with Rex and possibly conceived? He couldn’t make Rex take responsibility; Rex was still learning to be a civilized person.

“Oh, gods,” Olson moaned. This was all kinds of fucked up.

Rex frowned, touching Olson’s mouth and forehead. “Olson sad.”

“Not sad. Just—Fuck.” Olson slumped back into his pillow. “I just—I need some time alone. Please.”

Rex didn’t seem to understand, so Olson shoved at him. “Wait outside the bedroom for me. Get something to eat or drink. Just. I need some space.”

Rex’s shoulders sagged. He nuzzled under Olson’s ear and trailed his wrist over Olson’s arm, leaning away to get off the bed.

He looked so miserable that Olson caught his hand.

“Hey. Rex.” Olson pulled him back, brushing his fingers through Rex’s hair. “It’s okay. I’m not mad at you. I just... There’s a lot of things going on. Big things with a lot of consequences. I’m trying to figure out what to do.”

Rex studied him, those green eyes still so sad.

So Olson cupped his face, kissing him softly on the mouth. “Get something to eat. Or you can wait for me. I’ll make you something good for breakfast.”

Rex lit up at that. He nuzzled Olson’s cheek with more enthusiasm, then brought Olson’s hand up, pressing a sloppy kiss to his palm. “For Olllsonnnn.”

“Yes.” Olson kissed him again, his heart thumping. “Wait for me somewhere else in the apartment.”

With hope growing in his eyes, Rex climbed off the bed, wandering out.

Olson grabbed his phone and dialed a number.

Linus took a while to answer. “Olson?”

“I fucked up,” Olson muttered. “I let him have my heat.”

Linus sucked in a slow breath. “Did you—”

“No condom, no BC. Fuck. I don’t have time for a baby. I can’t drag him into this, either. He hasn’t even assimilated into our world.”

“But he would at some point, right?” Linus sounded uncertain.

“Until then, I’d be the one responsible for both of them.” Olson blew out a breath. “Alongside the Wine Shack.”

“So... you’re going to terminate the pregnancy?”

Olson’s stomach clenched. Rex... reminded him so much of George. His scent, his eyes. His adoration. Despite not wanting a child when he was sixteen, Olson had always thought... maybe in the future. “I-I don’t know if I can.”

“If you carry it to term, I’ll see what I can do to help.”

Olson had his brother, Varrick, and his brother-in-law, Emmy. But they had a baby, and Olson didn’t want to burden them with a second one.

Then there were his dads. Whom he still hadn’t told about Rex, because, well.

Except this was even more of a fuck up now, and they’d probably be disappointed in him. But they’d still help with a child.

He buried his face in his pillow. “I would like a break from my life.”

“I’m sorry.”

Olson breathed for several long moments. He could do this. He’d managed so long without George. And Rex learned fast. “Rex might have people after him, too. The people who kidnapped him.” Olson smacked his head against the pillow. “Fuck.”

“Maybe someone can teach him self-defense?”

Olson winced. He’d have to call in some favors. Do some bartering.

But the first thing he had to do was shave off Rex’s beard, so he looked different from how his captors remembered him.

He still got a bad feeling about that.

“I have to go,” Olson mumbled, rubbing his face. “Too much crap to do.”

“Remember to take care of yourself, okay?” Linus said softly.

With the mess Olson had gotten himself and Rex into, he didn’t think he deserved to be treated nicely. “I’ll try,” he said, not meaning it.

“Good luck,” Linus said.

Olson ended the call. He set his phone on his nightstand and trudged out of the bedroom, peeking into the kitchen first. Rex wasn’t there.

Instead, he found Rex lurking in a corner of his living room, touching the things in Olson’s display case.

Olson almost told him to keep his hands off; some of the things in there were so fragile.

So important.

Rex turned around with George’s camera in his hands, and Olson’s heart missed a beat.

“Rex—” Put that down, Olson was about to say.

Except Rex lifted the camera to his face, and peeked through the viewfinder at Olson.

Just like George had in his dream. Just like what had happened countless times, long ago.

“Fuck,” Olson whispered.

“Olsonnn?” Rex frowned, lowering the camera and stepping closer. “Olson sad.”

“It’s...” Olson sighed heavily. “It’s just... You just remind me so much of my alpha.”

He took the camera and set it back on the shelf, catching Rex’s hand. “C’mon. Let’s shave off your beard. Then I’ll have proof that you’re a different person.”

Rex followed him to the bathroom and sat on the toilet when Olson asked. Olson crouched at his feet, ignoring the growing clamor of alarm bells in his head.

“I’m sorry about your beard. Maybe you can have one again in the future when you’re not in danger anymore. But for now, we need to make you look different. So, no beard.”

Rex shrugged and sat still, eyeing the trimmers warily. Olson adjusted them to the shortest setting and began buzzing off Rex’s facial hair, chunks of it falling onto Rex’s lap. Olson had him tip his face up to the ceiling so he could get under his jaw. While Rex was still looking up, Olson scooted over to his other side, and carefully maneuvered the trimmers so he wouldn’t spook Rex.

He grabbed his can of shaving cream from under the sink, slathering copious amounts of it over the stubble he’d left on Rex’s face.

Then he got his razor and knelt, holding Rex’s head still, making sure to go against the direction of the bristly hairs so there was absolutely no way he’d nick his alpha.

He knew Rex didn’t want to hurt him. But he didn’t know what Rex’s pain response was, when he had so many scars on his body. It was safer to be careful.

Short hairs came away with each swipe of the blade. Olson almost didn’t breathe; he could only hold Rex lightly, and he didn’t know if Rex would turn his head at the slightest sound.

Ever so slowly, the stubble vanished from Rex’s skin, bit by bit until he was finally clean-shaven.

Only then did Olson sit back on his heels, allowing himself to look properly at Rex’s face.

George stared back at him.

He looked a little older, a little more worn.

Olson’s heart stopped. George was dead. Olson visited his grave every year. “H-how?”

His voice broke. Grief swelled through him. Was he looking at a ghost? He was, wasn’t he?

Olson clutched at Rex’s knees, trying to understand how he looked like George. If he was George. How was he looking at a dead man?

“H-how—Why—” Olson tried to breathe, but he couldn’t. Black spots danced through his vision.

George leaned in close, his brow furrowing with concern the exact way Olson thought he’d never see again.

He fainted.