“Dude, it’s not funny.” I rubbed my beard, less than happy with past-Larry for confiding in Daniel. He was bent over, holding his side as he laughed and laughed at my blue balls.

“Bullshit,” he said when he finally gained control of his laughter. “It’s fucking hilarious. You got cock blocked by an old lady in a housecoat, or at least part of her was. Hi-fucking-larious.”

Like I needed reminding. The date I’d had with the guys almost a week earlier had been awesome. We’d come home after the ice show and had what was our first group conversation about the important shit—not even close to all of it, but we made a start. Then boom, we hear sex noises from his mother of all people. We all tried to ignore it and Ethan went to check on Bella only to run into his mother saying good-bye to her date, or boyfriend, or whatever Big Dick was. Somehow that turned into an invitation for a cup of tea and cookies with her.

And yeah, her boob popped out of her housecoat as she passed out the tea, which was the last thing I wanted to see of the woman who mothered my lover. In hindsight, that was a tidbit I should’ve left out of my over-sharing session with Daniel.

“Assmunch.” I smacked him upside the head.

“You love me,” he taunted, making kissy faces. He was the closest thing I had to a brother growing up and, aside from his time in the military, we’d always seen each other often.

“Your point?” I smacked him again before pointing to the large pile of boxes in the middle of the room. “So, are you going to help me with this or not?” It was the bar’s big monthly delivery, a jackpot for good moving boxes, or in this case, storage boxes.

“Since you asked so nicely.” Daniel picked up as many as he could hold on to without dropping them and started for my office and the staircase to my place. I followed behind with another load, which sadly wasn’t the rest of them.

“Why do you want all the delivery boxes anyway?” He dumped the boxes where I had already collected a few in the living room.

“I’m thinking about doing some work in my place and it is easier for them to do it if I have my shit out of there.” Not that I had that much shit. Not really. Aside from my cooking gear—which would probably take up most of the boxes we’d brought up so far—I only had some clothing, a bookshelf full of books, and some random DVDs.

“Slick.” He smirked before helping himself to one of my root beers.

“What?”

“Well played, my man.” He slapped me on the back before taking a long swig of hi—my soda. “Make a wreck of your place, and then tell one of your guys, ‘Ohh, I need a place to stay, do you think I might stay on your couch?’ ” He spoke in a mocking tone.

“Or I was thinking—let’s get the work done that needs doing and stay in my office on the cot until it is done.”

“But now you’re not.” He headed down the stairs.

“Thanks to you, asshat.” I grumbled, following behind him.

I followed him down the stairs and out of my office to find myself face to face with Ethan, who looked all kinds of green.

“Hey, Daniel. You got this?” I nodded at the pile of boxes as I took Ethan’s hand.

“Yeah, boss. About four more trips solo, though, so you owe me.” He scoffed and headed back to the kitchen.

“Hey,” I said tentatively, rubbing my fingers over Ethan’s knuckles.

“Hey.” He smiled back, but it never reached his eyes.

“You don’t look great.” I started to walk and stopped short when he didn’t come with me. “Come on up?”

“You already have company.”

Was he jealous? At face value that sounded good, because it meant he cared. But it also meant he wasn’t sure he could trust me. “What? Daniel?”

He nodded sheepishly.

“Daniel was helping me carry boxes. Come on up, please. No offense, but you look like shit.” He looked greener than he had even thirty seconds ago.

“I see you’re going for romance today.” His attempt at humor fell flat as he bent over slightly, trying to hide a bad wave of nausea, if my guess was correct.

I led him up the stairs and inside my apartment. “Here,” I pointed to the couch, “or on my bed?”

“What?” He squeaked as if I were propositioning him, which was exactly what would be happening if he wasn’t freaking green.

“Do you want to lay down here or on my bed? Bed is closer to the bathroom.”

“Bathroom. Yeah, there.” And with that, he shot off like he was running the fifty-yard dash in the Olympics.

I hadn’t even taken a step in his direction before the sound of his retching filled the air. Poor guy.

“Your omega sick?” Daniel asked as he deposited a load of boxes. I hadn’t even heard him come in.

“Yeah. Can you stack the rest in my office? I have a feeling he doesn’t want his coworkers to know he’s tossing his cookies.”

“Can’t say I blame him there.” He walked to the door before he stopped to turn and face me. “You must be worried.”

“I am.” Very. I’d been around pregnant omegas before, and never saw one who looked like that when their morning sickness hit. I had a nagging feeling this wasn’t morning sickness.

“Ask me how I know.”

“How do you know?” Sometimes it was easier to play the game with him than to try to make him stop.

“Because I called him your omega and you didn’t smack my head.” He bolted down the stairs before I could smack him for good measure.

Instead, I locked the door behind him, grabbed a washcloth and went to check on Ethan. When I got there he was standing up, looking no better, drops of sweat forming on his forehead. Poor guy.

“I brought you a washcloth. Do you think you have a fever?” I ran cool water over the cloth before handing it to him. I wanted to take over and do it myself, but had no plans to step over his boundaries.

“I kinda think I do. I thought I just had morning sickness kicking back in, but—” He fell back to the toilet just in time to dry heave.

I had some anti-nausea medicine in the cabinet from when I had an inner ear infection and I was itching to give it to him to make it all go away, but the strip of pills was covered in warning stickers including one that said not to use if pregnant. At the time, I had scoffed at it because there was no way I could ever become pregnant. Now? Now I was glad for the information because I might very well have given it to the poor guy.

Yeah, he had definitely caught something. or had food poisoning. Either way, this was not from being pregnant. “Here, use cold water to wipe your face again and I’ll grab you a cup to rinse your mouth.”

He already looked slightly less awful when I returned.

“Better?”

“Not so much.” Fuck, looks were deceiving. I had been hoping he’d feel better after emptying his stomach.

“Ok, off with your pants and shoes and into bed with you.” I pulled back the sheet, glad it had only been used one night. Fresh sheets would’ve been better, but he needed to lay down sooner rather than later.

“I have work.” He formed two fists, settling them on his hips.

“Your boss called me and told me to tell you to keep your sick ass home and get better.” I patted the bed and he at least sat down. That concession alone told me how very horrible he was feeling.

“The mechanic says I need to work to save up for the new catalytic converter for my car to pass inspection.”

“Well your boss said sick days are paid.”

“Bullshit. You can’t pay me for not working just because I’m pregnant with—possibly—your child.”

I whipped out my phone, calling Daniel.

“What are you doing?” Ethan grumbled.

I chose not to answer him, earning me a glare.

“Hey, Daniel. I’m putting you on speaker. Can you hear me?”

“I fucking hate speaker phone.”

That would be a yes.

“I know. Would you be so kind as to tell Ethan what you made last Friday?” Poor Daniel had been knocked on his ass and out for three days.

“Nothing. I was home sick with that stupid upper respiratory thing going around. I think Marc had the kitchen duty.”

Ethan bit his lip, probably holding back his amusement. He and Daniel got along alright, as much as Ethan connected with the others, anyway. He liked to come in, do his work, then go home. At first, I thought it was me, but it was just how he was.

“I meant for your pay.” Dumbass went unsaid in words, but loud and clear in my tone.

“Oh, I used a sick day, so I got minimum wage plus estimated tips. I didn’t look at the check to see what those were. Do you need me to?”

I looked to Ethan, who shook his head no.

I turned my attention back to the phone. “Naw. All's good. Can you tell Marc they’re a man down today? He can call someone in or not depending on how he thinks things are going.”

“Sure thing, boss. Tell your omega I hope he feels better.” Assmunch. I hung up and slipped the phone back into my pocket.

“You hung up on him.” Ethan finally lay down and I loosely covered him, unsure if he would be too hot, but not wanting him to get chills either. I brushed my hand across his forehead. He was burning up.

“I did hang up.” It was how most of our phone calls ended. I sat on the edge of the bed next to Ethan.

“Because he called me your omega?”

I gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. I wasn’t completely sure what made him sad about that, but he needed to know it wasn’t about him without pouring out my heart out to him while he was too sick to be able to fully comprehend anything, much less heavily emotionally charged confessions.

“Because he was doing so to try and get a rise out of me.”

Ethan relaxed slightly, turning onto his side.

“Doesn’t that feed his behavior? Hanging up I mean?”

He wasn’t wrong.

“Absolutely.” I shrugged. “But that’s how we communicate.”

“You freaking act like brothers,” Ethan teased as his eyes struggled to stay open. I needed to let him sleep.

“We kind of are—or close to it. We grew up together.”

His eyes closed a bit longer between blinks and I stood up to give him his space.

“So, you really pay sick days?” he asked without opening his eyes.

“Of course. It’s only right.” Not only did it keep the rest of the staff from getting whatever the latest bug going around was, but it also got them healthier faster because they stayed home when they were sick instead of muscling through.

“I’ve never had a paid sick day before.”

“Because you’ve always worked for assholes.”

He gave a subtle nod, his eyes still shut. I waited, just watching him.

“Am I?” he asked, just as I thought he might have fallen asleep.

“Are you what?”

“Am I your omega?” His eyes opened again. Fuck. Daniel was going to get stuck washing baseboards for that little stunt.

“Not yet.” I was treading lightly. This was not the time for this conversation. “You’re not ready. But you will be.” I needed him to be. That was all there was to it and if it took waiting, then wait I would.

“You have so much confidence in us—all three of us.”

“I do.” I leaned over and kissed his forehead, partly for affection and partly to see if the fever was still raging. He felt slightly cooler, which was probably more indicative of him no longer violently puking more than him getting better in less than half an hour, but I’d take it. “Now sleep. What time do you need to be back for Bella? Ryan or I can go take care of her while you rest if your mom’s not watching her.” I knew he had at least until his scheduled shift ended, but after that I had no idea. Worst case scenario, either Ryan or I could pick her up and bring her here. There was zero chance of me letting him drive before I knew he was well enough. And yeah, that was alpha bullshit right there, but that’s how it was.

“I pick her up at three tomorrow. She’s having a sleepover with Sam. I will be better by then—”

I truly hoped so. “I’m getting you a pot.”

“Not my thing.”

I held in my laugh.

“Not pot. A pot. So you have it by your side in case the bathroom isn’t within reach.”

“Smart,” he mumbled. I left to find said pot and to text Ryan.

What are you doing tonight?

I reached into the back of the cupboard to find my soup pot just as I heard my notification that he’d texted back.

You know me, all party all the time.

Video games? I guessed. Ryan loved all that stuff. I’d never gotten into it. The cost of the machines had been out of reach in my youth when everyone was all into gaming. I kind of wanted to learn now, though. It would be nice to have that with Ryan, or maybe Ryan and Ethan if he was interested. I wondered if three player games might even be a thing.

Pretty much. Why?

Ethan is sick in my bed. Want to come over and help me take care of him?

I took the pot into my bedroom to find a slightly snoring Ethan and placed it beside his head.

He’s that sick?

He’s puking, but I feel like he could use some time being taken care of. Because I had a feeling no one had done that for him in a very long time.

Agreed. I’ll be there in a half an hour. Should I bring soup?

I thought back to his retching. No, food of any kind was going to be out of the question for at least the next little bit.

Most definitely not. Maybe some Gatorade?

On it. he replied instantly.

I left Ethan to his sleep and shut the door most of the way behind me, hoping he was going to be able to get some decent rest.

Ryan arrived within a half an hour, bringing enough Gatorade with him for his entire soccer team—for an entire season. It was fair to say, Ethan was going to feel taken care of. The question was whether he was going to be comforted by that or freaking out again.