45 - Two Steps Away

Dinner sat untouched on the table.

The roast had gone cold. Gravy congealed in its dish. The twins had eaten already—bellies full, now tucked under blankets with the dog curled warm between them like a living bolster.

From the hallway, the glow of cartoons flickered. Mia sat at the table, listlessly pushing rice around her plate. One ear trained toward the hallway. Listening. Waiting. For a footstep. A voice. A door.

Something.

Ezra searched everywhere.

The pantry. The garage. The garden shed. Even the laundry room, which still smelled of lavender detergent and citrus wood polish—Sebastian’s scent, clinging to the air like a memory he didn’t want to face.

The second living room had been tidied. Shoes lined by size. Socks paired. School bags unzipped and repacked. Tucked discreetly into Mia’s bag: a zip pouch with pads and wipes.

Ezra stared at it.

His chest tightened.

He hadn’t thought of that.

But of course, Seb had.

Upstairs, he hesitated at Sebastian’s door. The scent hit him first—lavender thick with anxiety, sharp around the edges. Hurt and heartbreak had a smell, and Ezra was learning to recognize it.

He knocked once.

Silence.

Twice. “Seb?”

Nothing.

“Baby, come on—please. Open up.”

The door creaked open just a sliver. Soft lamplight spilled across the floor, shadows drawn long. Sebastian stood behind the threshold. Arms crossed. Body stiff. His scent was guarded, closed off—like a door braced against a storm.

Ezra stepped inside without waiting.

“Seb,” he said, quiet but certain. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

Sebastian turned from him, deeper into the room, leaving a trail of restrained pheromones behind. The air between them buzzed with tension—an Omega scent humming with betrayal, disbelief, and heartbreak.

“You found me,” Seb said flatly. “Congrats.”

Ezra shut the door, pressing his back to it.

“I didn’t do anything,” he said. “I swear. I don’t know where the condom came from—I haven’t—I’d never cheat on you. I reek of you. Everywhere I go, people smell you on me.”

He moved closer, his scent shifting—sandalwood and spice, but now gentled, threaded with submission. His Alpha presence softened into something earnest.

“If I’d touched anyone else, you’d have known. You’d feel it in your chest.”

Sebastian sat at the edge of the bed, arms still crossed tightly. “Why were there condoms in your pocket then? Why was there a used one in the truck?”

“I don’t know.” Ezra winced as he said it—it rang false even to his ears. “I leave my truck unlocked sometimes. Could’ve been one of the guys from the site, or—fuck, Sebby. I don’t know. But I didn’t. I haven’t. You know I haven’t.”

“You used your Alpha voice on me.”

“I had to.” Ezra’s voice cracked. “You were going to leave.”

Seb’s expression didn’t soften. “What do you mean leave you? You’ve never even said we’re together, Ezra.”

Ezra blinked.

Seb’s voice dropped, bitter. “You say you wouldn’t cheat. But we’re not public. You flinch when people call us a couple. So what is this, huh? Am I just some Omega you keep warm at night? A babysitter with benefits?”

Ezra stepped forward and knelt, hands resting gently on Sebastian’s knees. “No. You’re not a secret. You’re everything. You run this house. You hold the pups together. You hold me together.”

His voice dropped lower, nearly a plea. “I'm not gay. I'm just yours.”

Sebastian’s scent flickered—hesitant, longing, but laced with anger. “Does that mean you’re ready to tell people?”

Ezra stilled.

He didn’t answer.

Sebastian’s laugh was sharp. “Of course not.” He stood, moving to the window. His lavender scent turned sour with disappointment. “Just go.”

“Seb—”

“No.” Sebastian didn’t raise his voice. His control only made the pain sharper. “Save your sweet talk. Forget lube. You should stock up on Vaseline and tissues. I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

Ezra stared at him.

Then moved.

Slow. Deliberate. Like a predator circling prey he knew too well.

He wrapped his arms around Sebastian from behind, caging him gently. Rested his chin against the curve of Seb’s shoulder, the scent of lavender so close Ezra could taste it on his tongue.

“Don’t be like that,” he murmured, releasing calming pheromones—an Alpha’s instinct to soothe his mate.

He knew exactly what he was doing. His breath touched Sebastian’s ear, warm and laced with need.

Sebastian’s whole body tensed. “Let go of me.”

“No.”

“I said—”

“I heard you.” Ezra nuzzled the crook of his neck, and Seb shuddered. “You’re mad. That’s fair. But don’t pretend you don’t want me.”

“I don’t.”

“Liar.” Ezra’s scent deepened, rolling over Sebastian like a wave. Calming. Dominant. Possessive.

“I’m not.”

“You’re a terrible liar.” His mouth brushed the line of Seb’s jaw. “Your body gives you away.”

Sebastian turned suddenly and jabbed a finger into Ezra’s chest. “You can’t just cling to me and make everything okay.”

Ezra only smiled, wolfish. “Sebby. Baby. You’re so damn mean sometimes.”

“Ez—”

“You can’t deny me sex,” Ezra said lowly, the words sliding out like silk, like sin.

Sebastian pulled away pointing a finger. “Watch me.”

Ezra chuckled. “You won’t last.”

“I already have.”

Ezra caught his waist again, gripping it with slow confidence. The way Sebastian let him—just for a second spoke louder than words. That tight, trembling line of his body. The scent he gave off. Needy. Angry. Ache-filled.

Sebastian sighed, lashes low. Ezra watched every movement, every shift. The man preened unconsciously under attention—just as he always did when Ezra murmured sweet Omega in the dark.

Ezra kissed the base of his neck again. Slower this time. Sebastian tilted ever so slightly—unwilling, but weakened.

But Sebastian pulled back, hands pressed against Ezra’s chest, firm. “What’s the future look like, Ez? For me. For you. For the pups. For us?”

Ezra answered without hesitation. “You’ll always be their other parent. Their Omega father. No one’s taking your place. If you want it official, we’ll make it official.”

Sebastian searched his face. “And us?”

Ezra hesitated.

And that was enough.

Sebastian’s hands dropped.

“That’s what I thought.”

He stepped back, but this time his voice wasn’t sharp. It was soft. Cracked.

He reached up and brushed Ezra’s lips with his thumb. “You’re allowed to love me, you know.”

Ezra opened his mouth. “I’m not ga—”

“I know,” Sebastian bit out, voice rising. “Spare me the script.”

He turned. Yanked the door open.

“Out.”

Ezra didn’t move at first. His scent thinned, uncertain.

“Ezra,” Sebastian said, voice fraying at the edges now. “Get out.”

Ezra obeyed.

That night, Ezra lay on one side of the bed. Alone. His hand reached instinctively toward the cool side—Sebastian’s side.

He could still smell the faint lavender that lived in the sheets. No warm body tucked under his arm. No sleepy voice mumbling about school lunches or paperwork. No Omega curled against his chest.

He hated it.

Across the hall, Sebastian curled tight around a pillow. Ezra’s scent clung to his skin, thick and inescapable. A phantom weight still lingered at the small of his back.

He could still feel those calloused hands. Still smell Ezra in every breath.

He missed him.

He missed the stupid gruff “you good, baby?” before bed. The rough palm skimming his waist. The man who left his socks everywhere but still texted “your sons are terrorists” with pictures of the twins in spaghetti helmets.

Both men lay in separate beds.

Same ache.

Same longing.

Two rooms apart.

Two steps away.

Still not close enough.