Page 16 of His Gentle Omega
“Can you tell me your full name? Your last name?”
“Lucas Edward Pierce.”
“Do you know your address?”
He nodded, giving me side-eye, but not turning to look at me fully. He kept his gaze on his rabbit and the floor. “Dallas, Texas.”
“Wow, that is a long way away. I’ve always wanted to go to Texas.” Someone had made sure this little boy knew his basic information, and I was glad of it. “I like cowboys.”
He giggled at my declaration, his shoulders relaxing just a smidgeon from where they were practically touching his ears. He sighed, “We were in the truck forever. Daddy had to stop one night, and we stayed in a…a place with beds in a room.”
“A motel?”
He nodded, “I think so. Daddy was coughing really bad, and he was very sleepy.”
“I bet he was. Your daddy is pretty sick, but the doctors are giving him some medicine to make him feel better.” That seemed to put him more at ease, because he turned to look at me then. Likely trying to judge if I was telling the truth or not. If he could trust me.
“Can you tell me your omega daddy’s name?”
“Edward Clark.” A shadow fell over his blue eyes, and he nibbled his bottom lip uncertainly.
“It’s okay for you to tell me. Your daddy isn’t in any trouble.” Not sure if I was being truthful or not, it was always better to assure children that their parents weren’t in trouble, even if they were.
“Papa Edward is mean sometimes,” Lucas whispered, back to rubbing his face against his rabbit, but not before I saw the tell-tale glint of tears fill his eyes. The door opened quietly, and Sheriff Beckett filled the doorway with his extra-tall andwide bulk. He had bottles of apple juice in his hands, and Lucas looked over at him.
Becks held a bottle out to the boy, and Lucas took it, staring up and up and up at the man. Becks was an imposing figure, with a stern face, but he smiled softly down at the little boy. Stopping to twist the cap off the juice for him before he handed it over. He was out of uniform, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, but his badge was clipped to his front pocket and his gun was holstered at his hip in plain sight.
“Thank you,” Lucas whispered.
“You’re welcome,” Becks told him quietly. “My little girl has a rabbit almost like yours.”
Lucas sipped his drink, his eyes big, “You have a little girl?”
Becks smiled brightly, his almost black eyes filled with joy. “I do. She’s just a baby, but she loves her rabbit.”
Lucas said nothing to that information, just quietly thinking about it.
Becks took a position in front of Lucas, much like I had earlier. “I heard you tell Bennett that your other papa was mean. Was he mean to your daddy?”
Lucas didn’t say anything for about thirty seconds, then he slowly nodded his head.
“Was he mean to you?” Becks questioned quietly, our eyes locked together in silent communication.
Lucas scraped his bottom lip with his little front teeth, then mumbled under his breath. “Sometimes. He hurt my arm the night we left. He pulled it really hard, and he yelled. He was loud and he scared me.”
Becks gave me a look, and I could tell he was doing his best to keep his emotions under control.
Softly, I asked, “Can you show me where on your arm? We just want to make sure your arm is okay and doesn’t need to be looked at by one of our doctors.”
Lucas looked unsure, a look on his face I recognized from my own childhood. That uncertain feeling of not knowing who to trust, not wanting to get your parents in trouble, and wanting to tell someone your truths in the hope that they might be able to help you. After seconds of hesitation, he turned towards me in his seat, thrusting his right arm in my direction.
“He grabbed me here.” His little fingers pointed to a spot on his arm.
Gently I examined his skin under the lights. There were fading fingerprint marks on Lucas’s upper arm, and without speaking I showed them to Becks. He pulled his phone out and snapped a quick picture.
“Does your arm hurt?” Letting go of him, I searched him for any other visible marks, but didn’t see any.
He shook his dark head, telling me no and I hoped I could believe him.
