Peter hadn’t had a clue that Carver’s stuff was that expensive. It looked nice, sure, but not eight-thousand-dollar nice.
“I gave you the password, now let me go,” Peter pleaded, pulling on his arm.
His uncle was unmoved. “No. Give me your phone.”
Peter cursed himself. The first thing he should have done when his uncle pushed him into the car was call Tex or Carver. He hadn’t even considered reaching for his phone, and now it was too late.
“Give me your phone or I will break your fucking arm!” his uncle roared, twisting Peter’s arm back and making him cry out.
Peter reached into his pocket, eyes tearing up from the sharp pain in his shoulder, and handed his phone over to his uncle.
His uncle turned it off, putting it in his pocket and letting go of Peter’s arm.
“Put on your seatbelt,” he commanded, the alpha authority in his voice rubbing Peter the wrong way. Only Tex and Carver were allowed to talk to him like that.
Still, he obeyed.
“You’re going to be okay,” his uncle promised, looking at him through the rearview mirror. His expression was resolved. “I just need a few hundred thousand and I’ll be out of your life for good. I promise.”
“You’re the worst,” Peter muttered, trying to remember when his uncle had turned into such a raging asshole.
He’d always been so great when Peter was little.
“For what it’s worth, I’m really sorry,” his uncle said, pulling away from the curb and driving off. “I never meant for any of this to happen.”
“Which part?” Peter asked, voice like acid. “Sending me to prison or kidnapping me?”
His uncle didn’t answer.
53
Tex
“He probably just missed the bus,” Tex said, an hour after Peter was expected to be home. They were in the basement, clearing out years’ worth of junk, trying to distract Carver from his disaster of a day.
“Or maybe he thought about it and decided he hates me,” Carver muttered, kicking away an empty box and staring down at his phone. They’d both tried calling Peter several times, but it just went to voicemail. “He’s not picking up his phone.”
“It’s going right to voicemail,” Tex corrected. “He’s probably out of battery.”
Carver wrung his hands, and Tex sighed. He hated seeing his husband like this.
“I’m sure he’s fine,” Tex said, looking down at a collection of old VHS tapes.Was that something they needed to keep?He decided to add them to the maybe pile. “And even if he needs some time to think, it’s not like he can leave us.”
Carver threw a book at his head, and Tex ducked just in time.
“That’s not fucking funny,” Carver growled, baring his teeth. “What if he thinks we arranged all of this, huh? What do we do then?”
Tex took a deep breath. “First of all, Peter is a reasonable omega. He’s not going to think we’re part of some far-fetched conspiracy theory. Second, Peter likes it here with us. We make him happy.”
“But what if we don’t?” Carver asked, running his hand through his hair. “We should tell him that he can go live with my mother if he wants to.”
Tex looked around the basement, taking in the bare concrete walls, exposed support beams and the incredible mess, and rubbed his chin. He walked over to Carver, pulling him in for a hug.
“Sure, we can do that,” he said, Carver stiffening in surprise.
“That’s not what you said a month ago,” Carver pointed out, pulling away and wiping his eyes.
“Well, a month ago I didn’t love the little fucker, did I?” Tex joked, the depth of his emotion taking him off guard. “And you’re right. We need to give him a way out of this relationship if it’s going to work.” Then, just to be an asshole, he added, “Besides, if he leaves us, we can just get another omega from the delinquency program.”
