Page 24 of His Best Friend’s Heat

Micah

" I f you put one more medical textbook in that box, it's going to break through the floor and crush Mrs. Hendricks downstairs," Nick warns, eyeing the sagging cardboard with genuine concern.

I snort, but set the heavy pathophysiology reference aside. "Mrs. Hendricks is eighty-seven and plays death metal at three in the morning. She deserves what's coming to her."

Nick's laugh fills the apartment as he wraps his arms around me from behind, his chin resting on my shoulder. One week since the pregnancy test, and I still get a little flutter every time he touches me casually like this, as if it's the most natural thing in the world.

"You're terrible," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to my neck right over the bond mark. "And I love it."

Our connection hums contentedly, no longer the raw, painful awareness that sent us both reeling in those first days. Amara says that's normal—that bonds mature and stabilize, especially with regular contact.

And contact has been very regular since I started moving in yesterday.

"We should take a break," I suggest, leaning back into his solid warmth. "I've been unpacking for three hours, and if I have to decide where one more book goes while fighting off nausea, I might have an existential crisis."

"Can't have that." Nick turns me in his arms, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners the way they do when he's happy. "The baby needs a crisis-free environment."

My hand drifts unconsciously to my stomach—still flat, though Amara says that will change soon enough. Two weeks pregnant. It still doesn't feel quite real, even with the morning sickness that's been my faithful companion for the past few days.

"The baby needs lunch," I correct him, my stomach choosing that moment to rumble loudly. "Growing a human is hungry work."

"On it." Nick presses a quick kiss to my lips before releasing me. "Grilled cheese? With the fancy cheese you like?"

"God, yes. And pickles."

Nick's nose wrinkles. "Already with the weird cravings?"

"Pickles and cheese is a perfectly normal combination," I defend, following him to the kitchen. "Pregnant or not."

"If you say so." He pulls ingredients from the refrigerator with practiced ease. This kitchen dance is familiar—we've cooked together hundreds of times as friends—but there's a new domesticity to it now, a sense of permanence that still catches me off guard.

I watch him move around the kitchen, this alpha who is somehow mine now, and marvel at how naturally we've slipped from friendship into this deeper thing. As if the border between the two was always permeable, just waiting for us to step across.

"What?" Nick asks, catching me staring.

"Nothing." I shake my head, smiling. "Just...happy."

His answering smile is brilliant, lighting up his entire face. Through our bond, I feel an echo of his contentment, his certainty. There's none of the doubt or regret I keep expecting to find—just warmth, affection, and that steady pulse of protectiveness that's become his emotional signature.

We're halfway through lunch when the doorbell rings. Nick frowns, checking his phone.

"Were you expecting someone?" I ask, wiping crumbs from my mouth.

"No. Jason said he might stop by later with Ryan, but not until dinner." He rises, moving to the door with that easy athletic grace that still makes my heart skip. "Mom?"

Diana Keller stands in the doorway, a large gift basket in her arms and a warm smile on her face. She's as elegant as always in tailored slacks and a blue sweater that matches Nick's eyes exactly, her dark hair streaked with dignified silver.

"Surprise!" she says, stepping inside to kiss Nick's cheek before turning her attention to me. "Micah, sweetheart. Look at you."

I stand awkwardly, suddenly aware of my rumpled t-shirt and the fact that I'm very obviously in the middle of moving into her son's apartment. "Hi, Mrs. Keller. This is unexpected."

"Diana, please." She sets the basket down and pulls me into a hug that smells like expensive perfume and home-baked cookies. "We're family now, officially. Though if I'm being honest, I've considered you part of the family for years."

The simple acceptance in her voice eases tension I didn't realize I was carrying.

I'd been bracing for...well, not disapproval exactly, but perhaps confusion or concern.

Nick had assured me his mother would be supportive, but there's a difference between accepting your son's relationship in theory and finding your son's male omega friend obviously moving into his apartment.

"Thank you," I manage, returning her hug with genuine warmth. "That means a lot."

"I brought a housewarming gift," she says, gesturing to the enormous basket. "Just some essentials. Good coffee, bath salts—the kind you like with the lavender, Micah—some of those fancy jams Nick loves, a few books..."

Nick peers into the basket, his expression softening. "Mom, this is too much."

"Nonsense. My only son is finally settling down with his mate. I'm allowed to go overboard." She pats his cheek affectionately before turning back to me, her eyes bright with emotion. "Nick told me about the baby. Congratulations, sweetheart. I couldn't be happier."

And she means it. I can see it in her face, hear it in her voice. There's no reservation, no hint that she might have preferred a different path for her son. Just genuine joy.

"Would you like some tea?" I offer, finding my footing in the familiar ritual of hospitality. "We were just having lunch, but I can put the kettle on."

"That would be lovely." She follows me to the kitchen, settling at the counter while Nick excuses himself to answer a text from Jason. Once we're alone, Diana watches me prepare the tea with a thoughtful expression.

"He's happy," she says simply. "Happier than I've ever seen him."

I glance up, caught off guard by her directness. "I hope so."

"I know so." Her smile is gentle but knowing. "A mother can tell these things. And I've watched him orbit around you for nine years, Micah. Always finding reasons to bring you up in conversation, always prioritizing your time together over everything else."

The kettle whistles, giving me a moment to collect myself as I pour water into the teapot. "I never thought he saw me that way," I admit, setting out cups. "As more than a friend."

"He didn't know what he was feeling," Diana says with the wisdom of someone who's known Nick his entire life.

"My son has always had a very fixed idea of who he's supposed to be.

Just like his father." Her expression clouds briefly before clearing.

"But unlike his father, Nick has always had the capacity to grow beyond those limitations.

He just needed the right person to show him how. "

"And you really don't mind?" The question slips out before I can stop it. "That I'm not...that we're..."

"That you're a man?" Diana's laugh is warm and genuine.

"Sweetheart, all I've ever wanted is for Nick to find someone who loves him for exactly who he is, not for what he can provide as an alpha.

Someone who challenges him, supports him, makes him laugh.

" She reaches across the counter to squeeze my hand.

"You've been doing that for nine years. The rest is just details. "

Relief floods through me so suddenly it makes me dizzy. "Thank you," I say quietly.

"Nothing to thank me for." She accepts the tea I offer with a smile. "Now, tell me about the baby. How are you feeling? Morning sickness yet? I was sick as a dog with all three of mine, but my sister sailed through her pregnancies without a single queasy day..."

By the time Nick returns, Diana and I are deep in conversation about pregnancy symptoms and nursery colors, the easy rapport between us as natural as if we'd been family for years.

In a way, I suppose we have been. I've spent holidays with the Kellers, celebrated birthdays and graduations.

I was there when Nick's younger sister got married last year, helping his mother with the arrangements as if it were my own family event.

We've been building this connection all along, I realize. The only thing that's changed is that now we're acknowledging it.

When Diana leaves an hour later, promising to bring over some of Nick's baby things from storage "just to see if anything's worth keeping," Nick wraps his arms around me from behind, watching his mother's car pull away.

"That went well," he observes, his chin resting on my shoulder.

"She's amazing," I agree, leaning back into him. "I was worried she might be...I don't know. Confused? Concerned? But she seems genuinely happy."

"Told you." Nick's lips brush my temple. "She's always loved you. Probably saw this coming before either of us did."

"Apparently everyone did," I say with a rueful laugh. "Except us."

"Better late than never." His hand drifts to my stomach, warm and protective. "Ready to tackle more unpacking?"

I groan dramatically. "Do we have to? I've hit my box-opening quota for the day."

"Nope. We can leave the rest for tomorrow." He guides me to the couch, pulling me down beside him. "Jason texted. He and Ryan are bringing dinner around six. That gives us a solid two hours to do absolutely nothing productive."

"I like the way you think, Keller." I settle against him, my head finding that perfect spot on his shoulder that seems made for me. Our bond pulses contentedly, a constant low hum of connection.

For a moment, I let myself believe that this is real, that this happiness isn't temporary.

The small, doubting voice in the back of my mind has grown quieter since our talk with Amara, since Nick showed me his unconscious nesting.

But old habits die hard, and nine years of loving someone who doesn't see you that way leaves marks that aren't easily healed.

"What are you thinking about?" Nick asks, his fingers absently stroking my arm.

"You," I answer honestly. "Us. How different everything is now."

"Good different or scary different?"