Page 13 of His Best Friend’s Heat

Micah

I reach across the bed without opening my eyes, seeking Nick's warmth, but my hand finds only cool sheets.

My eyes snap open.

The bedroom is empty. The shower isn't running. The apartment holds that particular stillness of complete solitude.

"Nick?" I call, my voice rough from overuse. No answer.

I sit up, wincing at the various aches that make themselves known.

My body feels heavy, pleasantly sore in ways that remind me of everything that happened.

The fever that consumed me for the past two days has broken, leaving behind a bone-deep exhaustion and a clarity I haven't felt since this all began.

Nick's scent surrounds me, embedded in the sheets of his nest—our nest—that we created together. The mark on my neck throbs where Nick's teeth broke skin, creating our bond. Our permanent bond. I touch it gently, feeling the raised edges of healing tissue. It's real. It happened.

We're bonded. And he's gone.

A flutter of panic rises in my chest as I scan the room. Nick's phone charger is gone from the nightstand. His gym bag, which was in the corner, is missing too.

Then I see it—a folded piece of paper on his pillow. My hands shake as I reach for it.

Micah - I'm sorry. I can't think straight. Need some space. I'll call you. - N

Twelve words. After permanently bonding me to him, after marking me as his for life, Nick left me twelve words on a Post-it note.

I press the paper to my nose, seeking some trace of his scent, some reassurance. There's nothing but ink and paper.

"I'm sorry," I whisper to the empty room. Sorry for what? For bonding me? For leaving? For not being able to love me back?

All of the above, probably.

A new ache twists in my chest—not just hurt, but a hollow feeling that I know comes from the bond itself. It stretches between us now, permanent and inescapable, protesting our separation. I read somewhere that new bonds need close contact to work properly.

Nick would know that if he'd asked. If he'd waited to talk to me before fleeing.

I force myself out of bed on shaky legs. My head pounds, my body aches, and there's this hollow feeling in my chest that I know comes from the bond. It stretches between us now, permanent and inescapable, protesting our separation.

Focusing on the practical stuff helps me stay in control as I make my way to the bathroom, but it can't stop the thoughts spiraling in my head. Nick bonded me. Permanently. And then he ran.

What does that say about what the bond means to him? What I mean to him?

Under the hot spray, I finally allow myself to feel the full weight of what's happened. Nick and I had sex. Multiple times. He formed a permanent bond with me. And then he left without saying goodbye because he needed to "think."

Think about what? Whether he regrets it? Whether he can stand being tied to me forever? Whether the bond was a mistake he can't undo?

The thought brings a fresh wave of pain, sharp enough that I have to brace myself against the shower wall. Nine years of friendship. Nine years of secret longing. And now, after everything, I might have lost both and gained a bond he never really wanted.

I finish showering quickly, dry off, and pull on clothes I find in Nick's dresser—a t-shirt that hangs loose on my frame and a pair of sweatpants I have to roll at the waist. His scent clings to the fabric, easing the bond-ache slightly but making the emotional pain worse.

Because this is what I have now, physical comfort from his scent while the man himself can't stand to be in the same room as me.

In the kitchen, I find more evidence of Nick's hasty departure: a half-empty coffee mug in the sink, his lunch bag missing from the refrigerator. But these aren't the normal signs of someone leaving for work. These are the signs of someone fleeing.

I can't do this alone. Not today. Not with everything so uncertain and the bond pulsing in my chest like an open wound.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I grab my phone and call the one person who has always seen me clearly.

Ellie answers on the second ring. "Hey, little brother. Please tell me you're not calling from work."

The sound of my sister's voice breaks what's left of my composure. "El," I manage, my voice cracking. "I need you."

Her tone changes instantly. "What happened? Are you hurt? Where are you?"

"I'm at Nick's," I say, struggling to keep my voice steady. "My heat's over, but...Nick and I bonded. I can't—I don't know what to do."

Silence on the other end. Then, very quietly: "What kind of bonded?"

"The permanent kind," I whisper. "And then he disappeared this morning because he can't think straight."

"I'm on my way," she says without hesitation. "Twenty minutes. Don't move."

The line goes dead, and I sit there holding my phone, relief and dread warring in my chest. Ellie will help. She always helps. But telling her everything means admitting the magnitude of what's happened. That Nick permanently tied himself to me and then ran away from it.

I spend the next twenty minutes cleaning up the apartment on autopilot, gathering sheets for the laundry, washing dishes, trying to erase the obvious signs of what transpired here. But I can't erase the mark on my neck or the bond in my chest or the devastating reality of waking up alone.

By the time Ellie's sharp knock sounds at the door, the bond-ache has intensified into a steady, insistent pull.

I open the door to find my sister holding a cardboard tray with two large coffees and a paper bag that smells like the cinnamon rolls from the bakery near her office.

"You look like shit," she announces, pushing past me into the apartment. She sets her offerings on the counter and turns to face me, arms crossed over her chest. "What happened? And where's Nick?"

"Work," I say, the word sticking in my throat. "He had to go to work. Apparently."

Ellie's eyes narrow. She may be an alpha like Nick, but where his alpha energy is warm and protective, hers has always been sharp and perceptive. She sees too much, understands too quickly.

"He left you alone? After..." She stops, her eyes finding my neck, widening as she takes in the mark I haven't bothered to hide. "Jesus fucking Christ, Micah. He bonded you?"

I can't hold her gaze. "Yes."

"Nick did that?"

"Yes."

"During your heat?"

"Yes."

"And then he panicked and left?" Her voice is getting dangerous now, the way it does when someone has seriously pissed her off.

"He said he couldn't think straight," I say, the words coming out smaller than I intended. "That he needed space."

"Space." She repeats the word like it tastes bad. "He permanently bonded you and then needed space to process it."

When she puts it like that, it sounds even worse.

The simple truth of it, spoken aloud by someone else, breaks the last of my composure. I sink onto Nick's couch, my face in my hands, as tears finally come.

"Oh, Micah." Ellie sits beside me, her arm around my shoulders. "Tell me everything."

So I do. I tell her about the unexpected heat, about Nick's offer to help, about how what started as friendship evolved into physical intimacy.

I tell her about the unspoken feelings between us and how Nick couldn't acknowledge them.

About how he's been trying to compensate with physical care ever since.

I tell her about the bond forming accidentally, about Nick's horror afterward, about waking up alone.

"So let me get this straight," Ellie says when I finish, her voice carefully controlled.

"Nick has known how you feel about him since your first night together.

He couldn't acknowledge it back. But instead of talking about it or figuring out what that meant, he bonded you permanently during heat and then panicked and ran. "

Hearing it laid out like that makes it sound even worse. "He was overwhelmed. The bond...it just happened."

"Did it just happen?" Ellie asks bluntly. "Bonds don't form accidentally, Micah. There's always a choice, even in the heat of the moment. And he made his choice, then immediately freaked out about it."

Each word cuts deeper than she could know. "You think he regrets it."

"I think," Ellie says carefully, "that Nick just permanently tied himself to someone he's afraid to admit he loves, and he's probably terrified about what that means."

The words stop me cold. "What?"

"Come on, Micah. You've been best friends for nine years. He just risked everything to help you through heat, then bonded you in the middle of it. You really think that was just biology?"

I touch the mark on my neck, suddenly uncertain. "But he ran—"

"Because he's scared," Ellie says gently. "Being in love doesn't make people brave. Sometimes it makes them do stupid things out of fear."

"But he did love me," I protest weakly. "In his way. He cared about me."

"Caring about someone and loving them are two different things, sweetie. And bonding someone you care about but can't love? That's not romantic. That's..." She searches for the word. "It's complicated as hell."

The word hits me hard. Complicated. That's what this is, isn't it? Not cruelty, but a mess of good intentions and biology and feelings that don't line up the way they should.

"What if he can't accept it?" I whisper, voicing my deepest fear. "What if he wants to try to break the bond?"

Ellie's arm tightens around my shoulders. "Then he's not ready for what he's done. But Micah...even if he comes back, even if he tries to make this work, you need to think about what that means. Can you be with someone who bonded you but might never be able to love you the way you love him?"

The question cuts to the heart of everything I've been trying not to think about. Because that's what this was, wasn't it? Nick couldn't give me love, so he gave me a bond instead. Not from malice, but from confusion, from wanting to give me something when he couldn't give me everything.

"I don't know," I admit. "I've loved him for so long, I don't know how to stop. And now, with the bond..."