Lucas didn’t move right away. He stood there like he had every right to be there—shoulders loose, hands in his pockets, head tilted like he was amused. Like he was catching up with an old friend instead of appearing out of nowhere, in a town Oliver had purposely chosen to disappear into.

"You didn't answer my question last time.” Lucas said, eyes flicking down to Oliver’s bump and back up to his face. “Is it mine?”

Oliver’s fingers curled tighter around the receipt. His first instinct was to protect—shield his stomach, turn away, do anything to put distance between them. But his feet wouldn’t move.

Lucas smiled faintly. “You don’t have to hide it. Naomi let me know about your job change, and I came to check on you and I see you like this. Why did you hide you were a carrier?"

Damn it Naomi!!! 

That pressure in his voice. Familiar. Subtle. Quietly possessive. Lucas never yelled. He never needed to. His words always bent things around them.

“I don’t want to talk,” Oliver said, voice low. Thinking 'I'm glad I didn't find out with you Lucas.'

Lucas’s brows lifted, like he was surprised by that answer. Like he couldn’t imagine a world where Oliver didn’t bend. “Really? Because I’ve got a lot of questions. Like when this happened. Or where are you staying?.”

Oliver flinched, and Lucas noticed. He always noticed. "I thought Naomi told you where I live."

"No, she only mentioned the town...I'm glad I ran into you after a couple of day's staying here, You left without saying a word,” Lucas added, stepping slightly closer. “That wasn’t like you. I thought we were good.”

Good.

Another word Lucas used often, and always wrong.

A breeze moved through the parking lot, and Oliver felt his knees locking to hold himself up. His back throbbed from the weight he was carrying and from the tension creeping up his spine.

He didn’t want a scene. But his pulse was screaming.

“I moved,” Oliver said. “That should’ve been enough of a message.”

Lucas’s jaw tensed for just a moment before he recovered his casual stance. “I just want to talk. You’ve got two—what, three months left? We could figure something out. If it’s mine, I deserve to know.”

“It’s not.”

That came out louder than Oliver meant. A man walking past looked over briefly, then turned away.

Lucas didn’t flinch. He stepped a little closer. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“You always said you wanted a family someday.”

Oliver swallowed, throat dry. “I chose this. You always belittled anything I said or wanted. This is my choice. Not yours.”

Lucas let that hang in the air. A beat of silence passed. Then another.

And then Oliver’s mind slipped back—drawn by that tone, by the way Lucas was looking at him like he already owned the ending to this story.

Flashback

Their old apartment had been neat, clean, filled with muted grays and navy blues—Lucas’s colors. Oliver had brought a plant once. A small one, just to make the space feel warmer. Lucas hadn’t said anything at first, just moved it from the kitchen window to the bathroom.

Said it looked better there.

Later, when Oliver started wearing looser clothes—styles he liked better—Lucas would smile and say, “You used to take care of how you looked.”

He’d meant it like a compliment.

And the job thing… that one had become a quiet war.

“You don’t need it,” Lucas had said, arms crossed in the doorway while Oliver sat at the dining table, laptop open. “I told you. I’m handling everything.”

“You’re not listening,” Oliver had tried, voice shaking even as he typed. “I want this. For me.”

Lucas shrugged. “So you can feel useful? You are useful. To me.”

The conversation had ended there. Like so many did.

Back to the present.

Oliver exhaled through his nose and stepped back. He felt the strain in his lower belly—a slow, stretching pressure that reminded him he couldn’t stand here much longer.

“You need to leave,” he said again.

Lucas’s eyes flicked downward briefly, catching the shift in his posture. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Oliver said quickly. “I can handle myself.”

Lucas hesitated. Then, in a voice just soft enough to be dangerous: “I’ll be around, Oliver. If you change your mind.”

And then he left. Not in a rush. Like he had all the time in the world.

Oliver stood frozen until Lucas’s car turned the corner and disappeared. Only then did his breath catch in his chest. He staggered slightly and leaned against the side of his car, setting the grocery bag down carefully.

His hands trembled. His knees ached.

His babies kicked, a slow thud from within. Reminding him: he wasn’t alone.