"Gid's in labor? Shit, that’s fantastic news! Give me five and I'm on my way." I tucked my phone into the crook of my neck while I stood and patted my pocket for my keys as a thought occurred to me. "Hey, Lukey? Am I good to come to the hospital, or did you call because you need me to watch the kids instead?"

"Fuck that, Austin. Just get your ass here to meet your new niece. Remember Miss Marian? The nice old lady that moved in next door last spring? She's been doing babysitting for us whenever we need. She and her husband have agreed to watch all the Logan spawn while we're at the hospital. Their grandkids live in Vermont, so they're excited to have the varmints underfoot."

"Okay, Lukey," I said, chuckling as I headed out of my office. "In that case, I'll be there as soon as I can. I'm just over at the center, so I shouldn't be long." Ending the call, I stuck my phone in my pocket and grabbed my jacket. The place was quiet, although I knew there were counselors who lived on-site that were around somewhere. Here at the TAB foundation, there was always someone working with all the different people we helped.

As I strode through the silent halls, my shoes squeaked on the linoleum. It had been cleaned so well it shined, but whatever they'd used made the floors squeak. I made a note to mention that to Lukas. Not that it was a big deal, but we did aim for perfection.

Our center was founded to help the widows and children of fallen soldiers. We had job placement programs, an active after-school program for at-risk teens, on-site twenty-four-hour daycare, and dorms for the childless widows who were between homes while they got their feet under them again after the worst happened. Dislocated families were given vouchers for local motels until we could help them find housing.

My brother, Beaumont, had done a wonderful thing here, creating a place to help the families of those who gave their all for our country. While the military took care of its own, those left behind were often left to fall through the cracks. And when they'd been stationed here in San Antonio, far from wherever they'd called home, they often had nowhere else to turn but here.

Yeah, I definitely felt like I'd found my calling when Beau had opened this place and hired me to handle the finances. It probably wasn't the best use of a Harvard MBA, but it's not like I needed money or acclaim. The satisfaction I felt every time I was able to help someone in need was what made my otherwise lonely life worth living.

When I reached the outer door, I plucked a tissue from my pocket to use on the handle. My brothers liked to tease and call me a fastidious nutjob, but just because I wanted to help others didn't mean I wanted their germs. As I stepped outside, I noticed that it was sprinkling and coming down harder by the second. Shit, I didn’t know it was supposed to rain today. Ducking my head, I dashed across the parking lot and nearly fell on my ass when I ran right into someone rushing toward the entrance.

"Oof," a low voice grunted as a small man bounced against me, his large, pregnant belly ramming me right in the nuts. I gasped and jerked back, trying not to wince as I fought to breathe through the pain. Bent over double, I looked up to see the horrified yet slightly amused face of a tiny omega with the prettiest gray eyes I'd ever seen. "Are you okay?" He held a hand over his head, as if it would shield him from the rain. "I'm sorry, I guess I wasn't watching where I was going."

"I'm fine," I wheezed, holding up a finger as if to beg for another moment before I had to talk.

He glanced at the laminated name badge Beau had insisted I wear on the damn lanyard that hung around my neck, then looked around me at the center. "Do you work here? You guys are my last shot, but I doubt you'll be able to help. Shit. I should just go, especially since we’ve already started off on the wrong foot."

As soon as I heard that, I blocked the remaining pain and stood tall. Without hesitating to worry about whether his hands were clean, I held out my hand. "I'm Austin Logan. The TAB foundation is my brother's place. But yeah, I work here. How can I help you?"

He looked worried as he glanced at the keys that hung from my index finger before finally reaching out to shake my hand. "I'm Owen Grant. Um, I don't want to hold you up. Really, it’s okay. You look like you are in a rush to get out of here. Perhaps you could just point me toward someone inside?"

"Nah, you’re good. It's not a problem if I get delayed; I’m not one of those guys who lives by a clock. Besides, it's a ghost town in there right now. I was headed to the hospital because my brother-in-law just went into labor, but as you probably know, that could take all night. Come on inside, let's get out of the rain while we see what I can do to help you, Owen."

He took a deep breath and then started crying. Not just a little whimpering, but full-out nuclear meltdown ugly tears crying like I’d seen my brother Houston do a time or two. I wasn't sure whether to reach out and hug him like I’d do with my brother or step away and give him space, or… well, shit. I should at least get him out of the rain.

"Hey, now. Don’t cry, it's okay. Come on inside, Owen. I want to try to help you." I spoke gently, like I would to a wounded animal. Crying people, especially vulnerable pregnant ones, always made me feel twitchy.

"That's just it, I don't think you can help me." His breath hitched as he began sobbing even harder. "Nobody can, but I didn't know where else to go, and you guys have helped so many people that I thought I'd give it a shot, but it's no use. I’m just wasting both of our time."

Seeing him start to shake, I stepped closer and pulled off my jacket, slipping it around his shivering frame. “At least come in out of the cold and have a cup of tea with me. A problem shared is a problem halved, or so my mom used to say. We don't know if I can help until I know what you need.”

He gave a short nod and allowed me to guide him inside. Using my now-wet tissue to open the door, I held it open to usher him in, not missing the curious glance he gave the tissue as he passed. I quickly tossed the wet mess into the first wastebasket we passed as I led him to my office.

While he took a seat, I turned on my Keurig and selected an orange chamomile pod for him and a different flavor for myself. While our teas brewed, I took a moment to shoot Lukas a text that I'd been held up and would be there when I could.

Owen's tears had been reduced to sniffles by the time I set the tea in front of him and sat down with my own cup of Earl Grey. We sat there quietly for a few minutes while we sipped our drinks.

Despite his puffy eyes and tear-streaked face, I couldn't help but notice how cute he was, now that I could see him in proper lighting. I pushed those thoughts aside though. Perving on a preggo dude, especially one who was probably in mourning, was never a good idea.

"Don’t worry. You’re in a safe place now. It's just two guys shooting the breeze, Owen," I said after I'd gathered my thoughts. "Why don't you go ahead and tell me what's wrong?"

He took a deep breath and began to talk. He motioned to his round belly. "Well, as you can see, I'm pregnant. My best friend was on a tour of duty when he died a few months ago. This was his baby, but we weren't in a relationship or anything." Owen looked up, frowning defensively. "I'm not a slut, so don't go thinking that," he said quickly.

"I'd never judge you like that, Owen. That's not what we do here," I assured him easily, motioning for him to continue. “Tell me about your friend, that seems like a good place to start.”

Owen seemed to breathe a little easier as he relaxed in his chair. "Well, Josh and I were friends for years. Ever since we met our freshman year of college, in fact. Whenever we were both single, our friendship occasionally had extra benefits, but that's all. Anyway, I found out I was pregnant after he was deployed. I’d given up my apartment after a rent increase, and was housesitting until he got back. The plan was to figure things out when his deployment ended.” He paused for a moment to close his eyes and take a deep breath before continuing. “Joshua’s parents showed up a few days ago because the lease was coming due. They cleared out his apartment, kicking me out in the process. Since I wasn't on the lease, I couldn't fight them."

My mouth fell open. "Wait. Didn't you tell them that you're carrying their grandchild? Or did they already know?"

Owen shook his head. "No, Josh had wanted to tell them the news himself when he got back. They've never been the biggest fans of mine in the first place. They didn't understand our friendship and thought I used him, I think. After I told them, they didn't believe the baby was Joshua’s. They said their son wouldn’t have left an omega pregnant and unprotected while he went off across the world. And now I'm low on cash, because I haven't exactly been able to work. Nobody wants to hire a pregnant person, and I'm an artist who can't paint because… well, just because. So yeah, here I am."

I was stunned, not sure where to begin. Tapping my fingers on my desk, my heart raced as I thought about my brothers-in-law, Lukas and Gid, and their past homelessness before they'd met my brother. Now I was getting worried for Owen. "After they kicked you out, where did you stay? You're not staying in your car or anything like that, are you?"

Owen shrugged. "I'm not gonna lie, I was thinking of sleeping in my car tonight. I mean, I stayed with a friend the last couple nights after I wasted money on a motel that first night, but I can’t do it again. She’s an exotic dancer, and the dude she brought home yesterday made me nervous. I need to feel safe, and I didn't there."

I start clicking keys on my computer. Obviously they hadn't been married, but maybe there was something I could do? "What was your friend's full name? Do you have his information?"

As he reeled it off, I typed quickly and brought up the information for one Second Lieutenant Joshua Landon, age twenty-nine. Yeah, he didn't have anyone else listed as beneficiaries on his file other than his parents.

Dammit. I was bummed that Owen had been right, after all. I wouldn't be able to help him, as much as I wanted to do just that. At least, not through the military services. Without him being a spouse of the deceased, my hands were tied. Maybe he’d be able to get some help once the child was born and a posthumous paternity test could be ordered, but that didn’t help him now.

Closing the file, I turned back toward Owen to ask if maybe he'd be willing to accept any private help from me, maybe even a personal loan if nothing else. My heart caught in my throat when I heard a whimper as I looked up just in time to see him go stark white and clutch his belly as he lurched forward, falling out of the chair.