Page 51 of Night Call

“Yeah, kind of. I didn’t tell Mum I was moving out until the day. Which was pretty selfish on my part, but… Without him, I don’t think she—” His eyes grew glassy as he thought about how she’d snarled and spat as he walked away.

“I have a spare lead,” Blake said, reaching over the threshold to grab George.

Pember was grateful for the change of subject, as his eyes drew back into focus. “Thank you. But are you sure you aren’t going to get in trouble for refusing to stay on? That guy, DS Matthews? He?—”

“Mark Matthews is the biggest, laziest prick I’ve ever met. In fact, I’m fairly certain he’s the king of lazy pricks. How he got the job in Major Crime I have no idea.”

Pember barked out a laugh. “I see. Good to know. Now you mention it, I don’t think Wallace likes him much either. N-not that I’m trying to stir up trouble between CSI and Major Crime, mind you.”

Blake smirked, the tip of a canine grazing his bottom lip. “Oh? And what does CSI think of me?”

Pember ran his tongue across his lip, making Blake’s eyes flit to his mouth. “Nice try,” he said, crossing his arms. “I know a trap when I see one.”

Blake chuckled, raising his hands in a supplicating gesture. “No trap, I’m genuinely curious.”

“Well…” Pember padded over to the alpha and reached up to plant both hands on his shoulders. Blake looked momentarily taken aback, but did not move from Pember’s touch.

“CSI thinks you’re a very dedicated detective who works too hard and has a bigger heart than he’d have people believe.”

With that, he shoved Blake’s shoulder, turning him away from the front door and directing him towards the steps. Bailey followed, sticking her nose in the alpha’s pocket. Pember leant against the doorframe; it was still warm from Blake’s body. He smiled a little when Blake shot him a wolfish grin over his shoulder.

“Anyway,” he muttered. “The shopping isn’t going to put itself away.”

He hummed as he slid the overfull salad box back into the fridge. There was something deeply satisfying about reorganising the kitchen, making sure everything had its own place and could be reached easily.

He’d wanted to make Val something to remind her of her time with Earnie on the Tibetan border, but unfortunately the supermarket didn’t sell yak meat, and he had zero experience of cooking tripe. Not to mention, the way her false teeth rattled between her jaws made him nervous about cooking sinewy red meat without giving it hours to soften in the slow cooker.

Ultimately, he settled on a creamy fish chowder with soft boiled potatoes. Sure, she’d probably complain about him fussing over her, but something about her creased face and watery eyes made his heart hurt. He wanted to pamper her, give her something to do in the evenings other than having the TV on full blast. The thought of her sitting alone in the dark filled him with a deep sadness.

Then his mind wandered to Blakeagain.How his face hardened when talked about his ex-wife, like he’d slammed up an invisible wall and plastered on a smile. He’d even laughed about it—a cold, joyless sound that’d made Pember feel a bit sick. Obviously, he had no idea what it was like to be bite bound, but he knew the severing of a bond could send some people mad. Omegas especially.

Perhaps the laughter was some kind of coping mechanism, because he’d come to realise that police officers had an uncanny way of laughing about the most horrific things. Suddenly the ‘Laugh Through the Tears’ poster in Oliver’s office made a lot more sense.

Whatever the reason, he couldn’t help but wonder what Blake’s wife might have been like. Attractive, most definitely. Beautiful, even, given that she had beenBlake’swife for ten years. She was probably really nice—despite being a cheater—really successful and absolutelynota walking disaster like Pember.

Did Blake even like men?

Shaking his head, he chased the thoughts away. He had no right to assume how Blake should feel, nor should he have been thinking about his wife. But then there’d been the baby… Pember’s stomach lurched.

Sugar Plum meowed, winding between his legs and leaving white hairs all over his black trousers. A knock at the front door made her hiss. Smoothing his hands down his cheeks, Pember padded to the door, expecting to find Blake, Bailey and George waiting on the mat.

It wasn’t Blake.

The colour drained from Pember’s face as he swallowed, eyes trailing up the form of a huge man standing on his doorstep. He was roughly Blake’s age, wearing a backwards-facing flat cap, black shorts and a dirty red T-shirt. He smelled like cigarettes.

“Hey, hon,” the man said, one arm pressed against the top of the doorframe. A lazy smile stretched across his face, peeling back over his massive canines. “How’re you?”

Pember stepped back, gripping the door handle.

“S-sorry, who’re you?”

The alpha’s smile widened, showing off entirely too many teeth. “Your new window cleaner. Max.”

Max reached for Pember’s hand, but Pember pulled away before he could touch him. “I think you’ve got the wrong address,” he said, starting to shut the door.

Max grinned and pressed his foot to the lip of the frame. “One Bell Lane, right?” he tapped the silver house number above his postbox. “Pretty sure this is the place.”

“I don’t need my windows cleaned, but thanks all the same.” Pember tried to close the door again, but the next thing he knew the alpha was fully leaning into his house.

---