Omega Teacher’s Secret

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8
Brad
Ian stiffened against him, drawing a shaky breath. “Yeah.”
Gwen, too? “What the fuck,” Brad said. “She’s six.”
Ian sighed and swore, and turned away, his breath no longer falling on Brad’s mouth. “You weren’t supposed to know that, either.”
He wasn’t lying.
Brad stared into the inky darkness, his mind reeling. He had a daughter. And another baby in Ian’s belly right now. And Ian had kept it all a secret, until Brad had forced it out of him. “You’d have kept it from me forever?”
“I don’t need you to be responsible for them,” Ian said, stumbling over his words. “Just—Just leave, Brad. Please. Forget this happened.”
Brad sat there, his hips pressed against Ian’s. Couldn’t believe Ian had lied to him. It wasn’t exactly lying, but that was one hell of a bombshell. Brad had children. Ian had been keeping fucking secrets from him, for years. And this whole time, his daughter had been living right here in Meadowfall, with Brad none the wiser.
“What the fuck were you doing?” Brad asked, betrayal weighing heavy in his chest. “You never told me.”
Ian shoved at Brad’s thighs, trying to pull away from him, but Brad’s knot had locked them together. “I had no choice, okay? It was either I tell you, or I lose my job. You don’t know how close I was to tenure.”
All because he wanted to keep his job? Brad growled. What about me? You’d just keep me in the dark for years? “Fuck you, Ian.”
Ian sucked in a sharp breath, his nails biting into Brad’s thighs. “Yeah. Fuck me. Now, please just leave, and never return.”
Brad was tempted to do just that. He leaned away, but his knot dragged inside Ian’s body, sending a jolt of pleasure up his spine. They groaned. Felt wrong. Brad shouldn’t be here. Shouldn’t have come to Ian’s place, shouldn’t have done any of this.
“I didn’t think you were a liar, McMillan,” Brad muttered.
Ian swallowed, the sound loud in the darkness. “Now you know.”
Brad closed his eyes, breathing out. In a few more minutes, his knot would recede, and he’d be free to leave. Probably never see Ian again. Wasn’t gonna try. Ian had lied to him. He’d fucking kept this big a secret from Brad, and, what, he thought Brad would roll over and accept it like a fool?
How the hell had Brad been this stupid, going back to school, getting involved with his professor again?
Fury burning in his chest, Brad yanked his phone from his pocket, unlocking it to see the time. He’d wasted his entire Christmas, bumping into Ian and his daughter.
The phone’s glare was an explosion of light in the darkness. Ian sucked in a shuddering breath. He turned away, but Brad glimpsed the glisten of wetness on his cheeks.
Was he… crying?
Brad’s chest squeezed. Wasn’t like Ian had been crying to gain his sympathy. Brad hadn’t even known until the phone lit Ian’s face.
“Why’re you crying?” Brad asked.
“Damned if I know,” Ian muttered, swiping at his cheeks. He braced his hands on the floor, then shoved his feet against Brad’s thighs, trying to pull himself off Brad’s knot. “It’s none of your business.”
He pushed, his abdomen flexing, the bump of his belly catching the phone’s glow.
Ian was pregnant with Brad’s child. Their daughter was in the next room. And Brad had been about to abandon them all, because he was furious with Ian.
That was a dick move, wasn’t it? He was responsible for the children. It wasn’t like Ian was the only adult around when they’d fucked. Even if Brad wasn’t sure what he felt about Ian, the kids shouldn’t be made to suffer because of it.
“Look, I’ll pay child support,” Brad said. “Tell me what I owe you.”
Ian still hadn’t looked up. “You owe me nothing. I don’t want to see your face again.”
Brad paused. Didn’t seem right. “So now you’re angry with me?”
Ian breathed out. He pulled harder, forcing himself to open around Brad’s knot.
“Stop that,” Brad muttered, grabbing his arm. “You’re gonna hurt yourself.”
Ian’s laugh was sharp, harsh. “That’s fine. I just need you to leave.”
What kind of person hurt himself, just so he wouldn’t have to see Brad again? Brad stared at Ian. In the glow of his phone’s screen, he found dense rows of silvery scars on Ian’s thighs—vertical lines, horizontal lines, lines crosshatched over those, when Ian had run out of places to cut himself.
There had to be a thousand scars on his thighs alone, and, fuck, what kind of person had Brad gotten involved with?
Ian slapped the phone out of his hand. “Stop looking.”
Brad swore. The phone clattered onto the floor, face-down, and Brad grabbed it before the glow faded. “What the fuck?”
“Yeah,” Ian said. Then he renewed his pushing, and he was a quarter of the way off Brad’s knot. “So you can leave ASAP.”
“I’m not leaving,” Brad said.
Ian snorted. “What, so you can continue to tell me what kind of bastard I am? The children aren’t yours. Go away.”
Brad tapped on his phone again, so its glow lit Ian’s face.
In the bluish light, Ian’s eyes were weary, his cheeks smeared with wet. He didn’t look happy at all.
“What were you going to do about the kids? Just raise them yourself?” Brad asked.
“Yes.”
“What if this new baby has a heart defect, too?” Brad asked. “You gonna pay for it?”
Ian bit his lip, chest heaving. “Yes,” he said, but his voice cracked. He sat down hard, shoving his hand into his sleeve, where Brad had pushed his shirt down earlier. Seemed like such a long time ago. “Stop looking at me. I’m not—I’m not coping.”
His knuckles worked beneath the fabric. Then a dark bloom of liquid spread across his sleeve, like he was bleeding.
How was he bleeding that quickly?
Brad refreshed the light on his phone, tugging Ian’s sleeve further down his arm. Ian yelped, flinching.
Silvery scars ringed his upper arm, more dense lines. Looked like it was a whole patch of paler skin, if you didn’t look closely enough. On the far side of his