Page 34 of Broken Ice
“Bro, you seriously don’t have to worry about that. For real.”
Freddy’s smile widened, turning…softer somehow. “Yeah?”
“Yeah! Really.”
“Okay. Cool,” Freddy said decisively.
The rest of the meal went a lot smoother. The only weird bit was when they were about to go their separate ways and Freddy stopped him, a little frown on his face.
“I, uh…I do things traditionally. Is that okay?”
“Uh…yeah?” Beau wasn’t sure what he meant, but he wasn’t about to dictate how other people led their lives.
“Okay. Great. I’ll see you at the rink tomorrow.”
Beau nodded, fishing in his jeans pockets for his car keys. “Cool. See ya.”
So, yeah, a little strange…but mostly, Beau took it as a sign that he was settling in. Integrating himself into the Miami ecosystem.
A few months ago, he’d have vomited at the very idea. Now…it just felt good.
***
Emilio didn’t bring up the whole heat thing, and Beau didn’t bring up the whole heat thing, and then the whole heat thing landed on Beau’s head like a ton of bricks.
“Oh, no,” Beau groaned, doubling over. “Why me?Why me?”
He let that first wave of pain pass, finding himself on his living room floor as he recovered his senses. He grabbed his phone and sent Doctor Greg his usual text. He stared at the screen until it went black.
Here he was again.
Beau wanted to not want Emilio. These days, however, the universe wasn’t being considerate of Beau’s extremely reasonable desires, so the very thought of the Alpha made him feel homesick, somehow, as though he were on a train to see his family for the first time in seven years, just at the cusp of the exhilarating but terrifying notion of returning to a place he’d craved for a long time.
A little specific, but whatever.
There was no way Beau would hold off the entirety of his heat without contacting Emilio. He knew himself enough to be aware of that. So what was the point of suffering through hours of pain just to humiliate himself anyway?
He rang Emilio’s number, actually surprised, despite the perfectly reasonable hour of 7:42pm, when Emilio picked up.
“Hello?”
“Heeeey, Emilio. What, uh”—he dug his fist into his abdomen in a useless attempt to get it to fucking calm down a second, Jesus Christ—“what’cha up to?”
There was a long, excruciating pause. “Are you in heat?”
Beau wrinkled his nose. “What gave you that impression?”
“You sound like there’s something crushing your chest.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Beau wheezed. “But as it just so happens, yes. I may be in heat. Is, uh…is your offer still good? Because—”
“I’ll be there in twenty-five minutes. Does your stupid doorman have your keys? How should I get in?”
“I’ll leave the front door open and tell the doorman you’re coming up.”
“Beau, you really shouldn’t…” The rest of Emilio’s words were drowned out by Beau’s organs trying to rip each other to pieces like they were wont to do.
He shook his head, clearing it. Oh, he was curled up on the floor again.
