16 - Silence Where You Should Be

Night lingered in Ezra’s room like smoke that refused to leave.

A faint breeze rattled the half-open window, cooling the sweat on Sebastian’s neck as he sank down onto the edge of the bed—Ezra’s bed.

His knees gave out the moment the door clicked shut behind him, and the clipboard with the unsigned form slipped from his fingers. It clattered against the hardwood, drowned beneath the jagged sound of his breath breaking.

He buried his face in his hands, hot tears spilling through his fingers as the weight of it all slammed into him. The ache in his chest wasn’t just grief or shame—it was heat.

A low, simmering pulse that had been building all day, tightening his skin, sharpening his senses. He could smell Ezra in the room, the masculine scent of sandalwood and spice soaked into the sheets. And it made everything worse.

His body knew what his heart refused to say.

Sebastian curled in on himself, arms wrapped tightly around his middle as a deep shudder rolled through him.

He pressed his thighs together, trying to ignore the sticky slick already beginning to form. His heat wasn’t full yet—but it was coming. Close. Too close.

And Ezra had pulled away. Had recoiled like Sebastian was the problem. Like he hadn’t spent that night burying his face in Sebastian’s neck, groaning against his skin.

Sebastian bit his lip until it bled.

God, he hadn’t. He’d just wanted—

Outside the room, a floorboard creaked.

Ezra had stormed out like he needed distance to keep from shattering something—or someone. Now, standing just outside the room, he felt it.

The lingering pull of heat.

His scent—his own Alpha scent—was thick in the hall, flaring every time he breathed. But underneath it, sweeter and sharper, was the tug of Sebastian’s.

Lavender laced with something musky and needy. He could smell it from here, clinging to the doorframe, wrapping around his throat like a hand.

It took everything in him not to go back inside. Not to slam the door shut behind him, lock it, and press Sebastian into the mattress until the tears stopped. Until the scent of his need was replaced by the scent of Ezra claiming him.

His Alpha instincts were fraying at the edges. There was an Omega in heat in his bed—his bed—and not under him where he belonged.

And that Omega was hurting.

He took one step back toward the door, then—

“What?”

Mia sat on the top step of the staircase, knees to her chest, eyes glassy and furious.

Ezra stiffened, caught.

“What?” he asked again, voice rougher now, pulled taut by the scent still clinging to him.

“You’re an idiot,” Mia snapped.

He blinked, startled, and immediately bristled. “Watch it.”

“No,” she said, standing. “You don’t get to yell at me when you just made him cry.”

Ezra gritted his teeth. “That’s none of your—”

“He’s the only one who’s ever looked at us like we weren’t broken,” she hissed. “When Mom died, everyone treated us like we were too much. Even you.”

Ezra’s jaw clenched. He could still smell Sebastian’s tears in the air. Still feel the dampness in the sheets from where he’d curled up.

“You didn’t even come until days later,” Mia spat. “But he was here. He’s always been here. And now he’s crying in your room because you’re too much of a coward to admit he means something to you.”

“Enough.”

Mia didn’t flinch. “You smell like him.”

Ezra went still.

“You reek of his heat,” she said, eyes glinting. “And you left him in there alone.”

His throat worked.

“You’re an Alpha, right? Then act like it,” she whispered, voice breaking now. “Protect him. Don’t punish him for making you feel things.”

Ezra took a shaky breath.

“You’re grounded,” he muttered, the words hollow.

“Good,” she said, flipping him off as she disappeared down the hall. “Maybe while I’m in my room, you’ll stop being a coward.”

A door slammed.

Silence.

Ezra stood there, scent-sick and shaking. His Alpha instincts wouldn’t settle. The pheromones in the house clung to the air, a low thrum of need and unfinished ache.

He should’ve gone back in.

He should’ve pulled Sebastian against his chest and kissed the words off his lips before either of them could say something cruel.

Instead—he let him sleep alone.

And now—

The morning arrived hollow.

No scent of lavender in the kitchen. No low hum of Sebastian’s voice while pancakes sizzled. Just Ezra. Alone in the kitchen, staring at a cold skillet and a row of forgotten dishes. His fingers curled tight around the edge of the counter, knuckles aching.

The kids trickled in slowly. Mia leaned against the fridge, arms crossed, eyes swollen.

“There’s no breakfast,” she muttered.

“I know,” Ezra said, fumbling with a loaf of bread. “I’ll make—”

“Sebastian would’ve made pancakes.”

He swallowed hard. “He’s not here.”

“Obviously.”

The twins tumbled in, hair messy and pajamas askew. Camden blinked sleepily up at Ezra.

“Where’s Daddy?”

Ezra stiffened. The scent memory in the room made his spine burn. “He had to go,” he said, crouching. “But you still have to get ready.”

Caleb frowned. “But he brushes our hair.”

“I can—”

“No!” Camden cried. “You don’t smell like Daddy.”

Ezra’s breath caught.

Within minutes, the boys were sobbing. Ezra juggled packing lunches, soothing tantrums, and burning toast, all while his chest felt like it might split in two.

Mia stood near the door, arms folded. “I forgot my lunch.”

Ezra opened the drawer. “I’ll grab—”

“Don’t bother,” she said. “Just give me money.”

He handed her some bills, and she took them without another word.

On the drive to school, the twins cried in the backseat. Ezra’s grip on the wheel was white-knuckled, jaw clenched so tight he could barely breathe.

Mia walked ahead without a backward glance.

A teacher knelt to gather the twins as they sobbed into her shirt. Ezra stayed frozen behind the wheel.

Sebastian wasn’t here.

His Omega—his—wasn’t under his roof.

He wasn’t safe.

He wasn’t wrapped in Ezra’s sheets, breathing sandalwood and spice. He wasn’t pressed to Ezra’s chest, protected, held, claimed.

He was out there somewhere, in heat, his body vulnerable and aching—and Ezra’s Alpha couldn’t rest.

Wouldn’t rest.

Ezra rested his forehead against the steering wheel. His lungs burned.

He wasn’t gay.

But none of that mattered now.

Because he needed Sebastian.

He needed him like oxygen.

He needed him home.