“Thank you.” Branson tucked the card into his pocket.
“You’re welcome. And it’s okay if you are asexual, Branson. You aren’t broken or weird, you just experience the world differently.”
Branson didn’t want to be different. He wanted to be a normal beta who enjoyed sex, to find a guy he was attracted to, date him, marry him, and maybe one day (if his husband wantedto) adopt a kid—just like he’d seen other betas do his entire life. That was the future Branson had grown up admiring and expecting to emulate.
He wanted one single thing about his entire, convoluted life to be fucking normal.
Joke’s on me.
“So, being asexual means being single forever?” Branson grumped.
“Not at all. Check out the forum. Some of the members are married to sexual guys and perfectly happy. They simply had to wait for the right person. Someone who truly understands them.” Something shined in Tarius’s eyes that was both hopeful and sad, and Branson wanted to ask about it.
“Hey, guys!” Aeron Danvers bounced over and plunked into a chair next to Tarius. “What’s up?”
Their private conversation came to a screeching halt with the arrival of Branson’s friend, and he was kind of glad. He wanted to investigate this chat forum before he made any big decisions about who he was. He was also grateful to Tarius for talking to him and giving Branson a clue that maybe he wasn’t just a late bloomer or too picky, or a “frigid little bastard,” as he’d been called in the past.
But wasn’t picky better than different from all his beta friends?
He had no idea.
TWO
Seven Months Later
Branson parked on the street,instead of taking Papa’s empty driveway space. Dad had texted a little while ago, inviting Branson over for a pizza lunch with the family. While this wasn’t unusual on a weekend, Branson wasn’t known for saying yes to last-minute invites. He preferred having a schedule, knowing where he’d be in advance, and if he got a month’s notice? Even better.
But tomorrow, his parents were boarding a train to go on a two-week book tour for Dad’s just-released memoir. Branson hadn’t gone longer than week without seeing his parents in his entire life, so this was going to be…interesting. It would be harder on his younger siblings, for opposing reasons, but Branson still wanted to spend time with his parents this weekend.
The first person he spotted when he walked inside the familiar house was Eriq Lars-Higgs, sprawled on the living room couch, staring blankly at the television. Even after almostseven months, Branson was still getting used to Eriq being in the home, mate to Emory, and the very proud adoptive-papa of Emory’s triplets.
“Taking a break?” Branson asked.
Eriq startled and nearly slid off the couch. “The boys are all napping at the same time for once, so yeah, taking a break.”
“Smart man.” He glanced at the ceiling and smiled. The house was rarely this quiet, and Branson didn’t expect it to last. “Where’s Dad?”
“Right here.” The man in question appeared from the archway to the dining room. Stress lines bracketed both eyes, and even though he was smiling, Branson knew his omegin well. Dad was worried.
Branson hugged him hard. “I’m so jealous of the trip you’re about to take. Two weeks traveling across the province by rail? Take lots of pictures.”
“Papa is picking up extra rolls of film, I promise. He and Emory should be home in about thirty minutes with pizza. They’re doing last-minute errands.”
“Mmm, pizza. Why do you think I’m here?”
Dad laughed. “A son after my own stomach. I wonder if the pizza in other provinces is as good as what we have in Sansbury?”
“You’ll have to do a taste test and report back.”
“I’ll try and do that. You know, I’m proud of you.”
Branson’s chest warmed. “For knowing my way around pizza?”
“For stepping up, like you always do.” Dad slung his arm across Branson’s shoulders, which made Branson hunch a bit, since he was about four inches taller than his omegin. “For promising to keep an eye on things while we’re away.”
“Like I’d say no?” Branson was proud of his lack of sarcasm. He hadn’t said no to any request regarding his little brotherssince the day they were born. No one knew Kell Cross was carrying twins, not until a few hours before Emory and Caden were delivered via Cesarean. Branson had expected one little brother, not two, and he’d promised to protect them both.
He hadn’t done a very good job, so far. Emory had been kidnapped and impregnated against his will, and Caden was a little too comfortable abusing Flax, an addictive substance that was illegal in every province. Branson was definitely going to keep an extra eye on Caden while their parents were away.
