Page 18 of His Best Friend’s Heat

Nick

I 've been sitting in my car outside Micah's apartment building for ten minutes, engine off, trying to work up the courage to go upstairs.

Not because I'm afraid he won't let me in—we agreed to this conversation. But because I'm terrified I'll say the wrong thing and confirm every fear he has about me, about us, about what this bond really means.

The research I've been doing since yesterday fills a notebook on my passenger seat.

Pages of handwritten notes about male omega physiology, bond formation, separation symptoms. Things I should have known before I marked him.

Things I'm learning now because I refuse to keep failing him through ignorance.

Jason's words from this afternoon echo in my head: "Go get your omega, big brother. And this time, don't run."

My omega. The phrase doesn't feel strange anymore. It feels right in a way that terrifies and thrills me equally.

I grab the notebook and finally force myself out of the car. Time to stop being a coward.

Micah answers his door on the first knock, like he was waiting. He looks exhausted—dark circles under his eyes, that pale complexion that comes with bond-separation. Seeing the physical evidence of what my running put him through makes guilt twist in my stomach.

"Hey," I say, suddenly uncertain how to start this conversation that will determine our entire future.

"Come in." He steps back, gesturing me inside. His apartment feels different than usual—smaller, more intimate. Or maybe that's just the weight of what we need to discuss.

We settle on his couch, close enough that I can smell his scent but far enough apart that we're not touching. The distance feels deliberate on his part, and I respect it even though every instinct I have wants to close the gap.

"You said you wanted to talk," Micah says, his voice carefully neutral. "Really talk this time."

I nod, pulling out the notebook. His eyebrows rise when he sees it.

"I've been researching," I begin, the words coming easier than I expected. "Everything I could find about bonds like ours. About what it means, what we can expect, what I should have known before I..." I swallow hard. "Before I marked you without understanding what I was doing."

Micah's expression shifts, surprise replacing wariness. "What kind of research?"

"Male omega physiology. Bond formation during heat.

Separation symptoms." I flip through pages covered in my handwriting.

"Did you know that bonds formed during heat have a sixty percent success rate long-term?

And that the main predictor isn't compatibility or attraction—it's whether both people are willing to do the work. "

I can see I have his attention now. He's leaning forward slightly, his nursing instincts responding to the medical information.

"What else?" he asks.

"That new bonds need consistent contact for the first few weeks to stabilize. That separation can cause actual physical illness." The guilt hits fresh as I say it. "That leaving you alone the morning after was probably the worst thing I could have done."

"It was," he agrees quietly, but there's less anger in it than I expected.

"I also learned that male omegas need different support than female omegas during bond formation.

That the emotional component is more fragile because society doesn't prepare us for it.

" I meet his eyes. "That alphas who've never been with men sometimes panic and run instead of working through their confusion. "

"Is that what happened? You panicked because I'm male?"

The question cuts straight to the heart of my fears.

"Partly. But not the way you think." I set the notebook aside, needing him to see my face when I say this.

"I didn't panic because you're a man. I panicked because marking you, wanting you the way I did—it meant everything I thought I knew about myself was wrong. "

Micah studies my face carefully. "And now?"

"Now I know that what I thought I knew was incomplete." The words feel heavy, significant. "I've been in love with you for years, Micah. I just didn't have the right context to understand what I was feeling."

His breath catches. "Years?"

"Since college, probably. Maybe longer." The admission feels like stepping off a cliff. "Every relationship I had with women felt like I was going through the motions. None of them ever felt as important as our friendship. None of them ever made me feel the way you do."

I pause, struggling to find words for what I've only recently understood myself. "I kept trying to make those relationships work because I thought I was supposed to want what they offered. But they never felt right. They never felt like coming home the way being with you does."

"You always seemed happy with them," Micah says quietly.

"I convinced myself I was. But happy and content aren't the same thing." I meet his eyes. "I was never content until I was back here, with you. That should have told me everything I needed to know, but I was too scared to examine it too closely."

"Scared of what?"

"Scared of wanting someone I thought I couldn't have. Scared of what it meant about who I am." I swallow hard. "I spent so many years building this identity around being the straight alpha who dated omega women. Admitting I wanted you meant tearing all of that down."

Micah processes this slowly. "So this isn't about you suddenly realizing you're attracted to men?"

"No," I say immediately. "This is about realizing I'm attracted to you. Specifically you. I don't look at other men and feel what I feel when I look at you. I don't think I ever will."

Relief flickers across his features, so quick I almost miss it.

I can see him processing this, trying to reconcile it with the Nick who dated women and insisted he was straight.

"Then why did you run?" The question is quiet but pointed. "If you've felt this way for years, why did bonding me make you panic?"

This is the hardest part to explain. "Because I was terrified of becoming like my father."

Micah's expression softens slightly. "What do you mean?"

"My dad left us for an omega he barely knew.

Just followed his biology, destroyed his family for what turned out to be a temporary obsession.

" I run a hand through my hair. "When I felt those possessive instincts during your heat, when I lost control enough to mark you—it felt like proof that I was just another alpha who takes what he wants without thinking about consequences. "

"You're nothing like your father," Micah says immediately.

"I know that now. Jason helped me see the difference." I lean forward, needing him to understand. "My father ran away from responsibility. I ran because I was afraid of hurting you. Those aren't the same thing, even though the result felt similar."

"What did Jason say?"

The memory of our conversation this afternoon brings a bitter smile to my lips.

"That Dad never would have spent three days researching how to be better for someone else.

That he never would have put anyone's needs before his own.

" I pause. "Jason also pointed out that I've been prioritizing you above everyone else for nine years.

That maybe my feelings weren't as hidden as I thought they were. "

"What do you mean?"

"He said I treat you like you're already mine. That I've always been protective of you in ways that go beyond friendship." Heat rises in my cheeks. "Apparently it was obvious to everyone except me."

Micah's eyes widen slightly. "Your family knows? About your feelings?"

"Jason figured it out years ago. My mom's been dropping hints since sophomore year of college." The admission makes me want to crawl under his couch. "She keeps asking when I'm going to 'stop being stubborn and ask that sweet boy out already.'"

"Your mother said that?"

"Last Christmas. And the Christmas before that. And probably every family gathering since we graduated." I scrub a hand over my face. "I told myself she was just being matchmaker-y. But looking back..."

"She saw what you couldn't see in yourself."

"Apparently. Jason said the whole family's been waiting for me to figure it out." I meet his eyes. "Even my siblings like you better than they like me most days."

A small smile tugs at Micah's lips. "They do not."

"They absolutely do. Sarah asks about you more than she asks about me when we talk. And Danny always wants to know if you're coming to family stuff." I pause. "They're going to be thrilled when they find out about the bond. Assuming we..."

I trail off, not wanting to assume anything about our future.

We sit in silence for a moment, the weight of these admissions settling between us.

"I have conditions," Micah says finally.

Relief floods through me. Conditions mean he's considering this, considering us. "Okay."

"You don't get to run when things get difficult. You don't get to shut down or disappear or decide you need space without talking to me first."

"Agreed." The word comes without hesitation. I never want to feel the way I felt these past two days—cut off from him, drowning in guilt and separation pain.

"I need honesty. Not just about the big things, but about how you're feeling day to day. If you're struggling with this, with us, I need to know."

"I can do that." It'll be harder than the first condition, but necessary. I've been carrying too much alone for too long.

"And we go slow." His cheeks color slightly as he says it. "I know we're bonded, I know that makes things intense. But I need to know this can work outside of biological imperatives. I need to know you want me, not just the bond."

This one hits me like a physical blow. Not because I disagree, but because denying what every instinct screams for will be torture. But if that's what he needs...

"How slow?" I ask, my voice rougher than intended.

"Slow enough that I can tell the difference between what's real and what's just chemistry." He meets my eyes. "Can you handle that?"