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He doesn’t say that when his wolf feels off, he wants to get up in Jay’s grill again about shit, which Rowan knows would be a no-good-very-bad idea.

“Yeah, he’ll be okay.”

“Did you apologize?”

There’s a growl from the other alpha and a clanging of a fork hitting the plate.

“That’s a no, then.”

He can’t keep the disappointment from his tone. It’s weird to have that shoe on the other foot.

Maybe he can get the hang of this Dad thing after all.

“I am terrible at apologies.”

“Is it that you think you don’t do anything worth apologizing for?” Rowan isn’t accusing him—he really isn’t. He’s just genuinely curious.

As a person who apologizes for so many things every day—the hazard of being a growing, clumsy oaf, both physically and emotionally—it’s difficult to see why it would be so hard to say three simple words.

He turns to rest his lower back against the counter so he can see Gideon’s face.

Actor-handsome as always, but his perfect profile reflects his frustration…and sadness.

“No, of course not, Jesus. I’m a fuckup on a regular day.”

Gideon doesn’t turn around when he says it, and it hurts Rowan so much that his mate might really feel this way about himself. A lack of confidence would be the last thing Rowan would attribute to Gideon. It’s as unsettling as it is untrue.

“What? No, you’re not. Seriously, when I grow up, I want to be just like you and Jay. And Leo, too. Probably not Luca, though. I’m not cute enough for that. Maybe Grayson, but lately he’s scary, no?”

Rowan is rambling, his wolf moving from mate to mate in his mind.

“Rowan!”

Gideon throws a strawberry at his head to get his attention. It pings him right between the eyes.

“Stop it already. I get it. And as flattering as that is, do not choose me.”

“What? Oh, come on. An amazing fuck, incredible cook, you are good at anything you set your mind to, and a genius.” He counts them off on his fingers.

“Yeah? Well, that’s nice, but not what counts, you know? Jay is a better choice.”

“You didn’t let me finish. Quiet, now. You always solve our problems, and who else cares about my wolf being a shit? You spend hours making sure I don’t fuck up so bad that I lose you guys, or end up in an enigma holding cell. Sometimes you spend hours and hours teaching me. Not Jay or Grayson, my fellow enigmas. You.

“So if you’re going to talk shit about the guy I hold responsible for me even thinking I can maybe do this Dad-thing, then we’re going to take it outside.”

Spatula in the air, Gideon is staring at him, mouth open and—if Rowan isn’t imagining it—glassy-eyed.

Rowan nods at the slice of French toast on the pan, which has started to smell a bit overdone.

With a cough, Gideon goes back to his pan. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Turning off the stove and removing the pan from the burner, Gideon drops the spatula in the sink before moving into Rowan’s space. He leans in so his lips are almost touching Rowan’s, and he can feel Gideon’s breath.

“What do you think you’re going to do if I do want to ‘take this outside?’”

When Gideon’s hips are pressed up tightly against the front of his shorts, Rowan starts to sweat.