Page 121 of Slow Heat
“Shh,” Rosen whispered in his ear, rocking him through it. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”
Vale clung to him, whimpering. And when he finally came out the other side of the first wave, he was alone in the basement, rocking on his hands and knees, ass in the air, crying for Jason.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Jason did regretgoing to Hollander’s Haven with Xan. He regretted it very much.
He’d thrown up twice on the walk home, and he barely remembered dropping Xan off at his parents’ house. He’d almost think he’d dreamed it, except he’d never dream of Xan’s pater’s horrified face when he saw the sick all over Xan’s sweater. Or would he? No, he wouldn’t. It’d been too hilarious. Or at least he’d thought so at the time. Now that he was sobering up, he felt a little bad about laughing.
He slunk up the stairs, head down, and hoped beyond hope neither of his parents would materialize and demand answers from him. He hadn’t seen them since yesterday, before he’d gone out to get the refreshments for the negotiation that’d never happened.
After Vale had left his room, he’d locked himself in and refused to come out. While his parents had called to him from outside the door, he’d cried in his bed, holding the shirt he’d stuffed under his pillow. It’d been pathetic and sad, and he considered a repeat of it all now, but first he climbed into the shower.
He’d wondered where his parents were that morning over breakfast, but he’d just been grateful not to have to talk or see their sympathetic faces. Especially when he knew damn well Father, at least, had wanted this outcome from the beginning.
He turned on the hot water in the shower, leaned over the toilet, and puked again. Hopefully that would be the last of it. If the nausea stopped, he swore to wolf-god he’d never drink gin again.
Washing away the nasty sweat from his body and gargling the liquor taste out of his mouth, he scrubbed up quickly. After he brushed his hair and teeth, he got dressed again. Soft trousers and a loose, gray t-shirt he could lounge around in while he stewed in his misery.
Downstairs, on his way to get a glass of coconut water to rehydrate, he found a note on the front table.
Jason,
I’m going to the shipping yards to check on a delivery. Pater is sleeping in the conservatory. Don’t disturb him. He needs his rest. There are ribs thawing on the counter. Make something decent for dinner. And don’t worry, son. We’ll fix this. We’ll fix everything for you.
All my love, Father
Jason headed toward the kitchen to get started on dinner, but he paused by the mirror across from Father’s study to examine the bruise blooming on his jaw. It was red and already shading toward blue. If it’d been much higher, it would have been on his cheekbone, and he might have gotten a black eye. As it was, it’d probably be healed up in a day or two and no one would be the wiser.
Except Monhundy would undoubtedly tell everyone at school. The jackass. Someday, someone was going to teach that jerk a lesson, and Jason just hoped he was around when they did.
Just as Jason turned away from the mirror, a soft, distressed noise drifted down the hallway from Pater’s conservatory, followed by a sharp cry. And then another, louder, more wrenching sound, almost a scream, echoed against the walls.
Stomach churning again, Jason rushed toward the cries. The conservatory seemed empty on first glance, except for the swirl of cigarette smoke in the air, and the new, strange combined scent that was Pater’s and the baby. Jason stepped deeper into the room to find his pater curled on his side on the sofa, his arms wrapped around his middle, and his face puffy with tears. Ash-filled plates circled him on the floor.
“Pater?” he asked gently. “What’s happening? Are you all right?”
“I’m losing him,” Pater whispered, his fists clenching and unclenching against his stomach.
Jason carefully crossed to him, nudging the ashed-up plates away with his foot. He knelt by the sofa and threaded his fingers into Pater’s hair soothingly. “I know he’s upset right now, but Father wouldn’t ever leave you.”
Pater hissed and curled into a smaller ball on his side, his face drained and white. “It’s the baby. He’s dying. I’m losing him.”
Jason’s heart wrenched. “Are you sure? What should I do?” He leapt to his feet. “I’ll call for an ambulance.”
Sweat darkened the hair at Pater’s temples, but he shook his head no.
“Why not?”
“The drugs I use after heats build up in my system. They’ll know. I can’t go to the hospital, Jason.” His eyes rolled back and he moaned again.
Jason fell to his knees beside him, moaning, “Then what do I do?”
Pater shuddered, his breath hitching as his body seized up. When he spoke, it was gasping and strained. “Nothing. We wait.”
“I’ll call Father.”
“No. He’ll worry. Leave it.” Pater’s teeth ground together. “I’ve done this before, you remember. Many times.”
