Chapter 21: The Thursday Night Class
The community center smelled of lemon polish and warm rubber, a combination that Julian had decided, before they were even through the door, was personally offensive. He walked ahead of Theo with his arms crossed over the swell of his belly, jaw set so tight his molars ached. The evening light slanted through the tall windows, painting long amber rectangles across the rows of exercise balls and foam mats.
Theo hovered at his elbow, close enough to catch him, far enough not to crowd. "You know we don't have to stay the whole hour."
"Don't be ridiculous." Julian didn't slow down. "I made a commitment. I keep my commitments."
"Of course you do." Theo's voice was warm, and Julian could feel the smile in it without looking.
Brenda met them at the far end of the room, her clipboard clutched to her chest like a shield. She wore sensible sneakers and a cardigan the color of oatmeal. Her hair was escaping its ponytail in frizzy wisps. She gave Julian a small, careful smile.
"Mr. Cross. I'm glad you came."
"I said I would." Julian's tone could have frosted glass.
"That you did." Brenda's dry wit flickered beneath the professional veneer. She gestured to a corner where a low mat had been laid out, pillows stacked beside it. "I thought we'd start with something different from the class. A side-lying release. It's gentle, but it can be powerful. It gives the pup room to shift and helps you practice surrendering your weight."
Julian's eyes narrowed. "I've done the inversion. With Elise."
"Different tool," Brenda said. "Same goal." She settled onto the mat and patted the space beside her. "Come. Both of you."
Julian didn't move. Theo stepped forward, his broad shoulders relaxed, and knelt on the mat with the easy grace of a man who had spent months learning how to arrange himself around his omega. He reached up, palm open, an invitation rather than a demand.
"Julian." The single word carried everything.
Julian let out a breath through his nose and took Theo's hand. He lowered himself down slowly, the ache in his pelvis flaring as he shifted onto his side. Brenda arranged the pillows with crisp efficiency, tucking one between his knees and another beneath his top leg, which she bent and draped forward until his hip opened. Then she guided his upper body, rotating it gently toward the floor until his shoulder pressed into the mat and his belly rested heavy against the surface.
"Breathe into your back," Brenda murmured. "Let your ribs widen. Give the pup room to find a better home."
Julian's jaw was still tight, but the position had an inexorable pull. The weight of his belly settled against the mat, and the pressure in his pelvis eased, just barely. He heard Theo settle on the floor behind him, felt a warm palm rest on his hip.
"Good," Brenda said. "Now. Six-count exhale."
Julian bristled at being instructed on his own breathing, then clamped down on the instinct. This was why he was here. To surrender. He breathed in through his nose for four, out through his mouth for six, the rhythm steady and deliberate.
It happened somewhere during the fourth cycle.
A shift. Not a kick, not a roll. A realignment, deep and subtle, like a door swinging open in his body. Julian felt the pup turn, felt the pressure in his ribs release and something settle low and new. His belly moved under his own skin, and he could picture it: the pup's head dropping into place, the position correcting itself after weeks of stubborn resistance.
Julian's eyes welled up.
He didn't make a sound. He was Julian Cross. He did not cry in birthing classes, private or otherwise, for beta women with oatmeal cardigans. But the tears came anyway, hot and sudden, sliding down his nose to pool on the mat beneath his cheek.
"Oh." Brenda's voice went soft. "That's it. That's the release."
Theo's hand tightened on Julian's hip. "Julian? Are you okay?"
Julian tried to speak and failed. The word came out cracked. "She moved. Theo, she moved. She turned."
"I know, baby. I felt it." Theo lowered himself until his forehead brushed Julian's temple. His lips found Julian's brow, pressing a kiss there, warm and unhurried.
"I've never," Julian whispered, and his voice broke on the second word. "I've never let anyone see me like this. All my life, I've never let anyone see the pieces. No one has ever watched me fall apart and stayed."
Theo pulled back just enough to meet his eyes. The amber in Julian's gaze was blurred with tears, and he hated that, hated that Theo was seeing him like this, exposed and undone on a foam mat in a community center while a stranger watched.
"I see every part of you," Theo said. His voice was low, meant only for Julian. "Every flawed, beautiful, devastating part. And I love it all."
Julian closed his eyes and let the tears fall.
The silence stretched, thick and warm, and for once Julian didn't feel the need to fill it with words. Theo's thumb traced circles on his hip, grounding him. The pup had settled into her new position, and the quiet was a homecoming.
Brenda shifted on the mat, giving them a moment before she spoke. "Mr. Cross, there's something I'd like to offer you. Beyond the classes."
Julian opened his eyes, wary. "I don't need more instruction."
"No. Not instruction." Brenda tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "A doula. She's experienced with omegas who want to maintain control during labor. Who need to feel like they've got a hand on the wheel, even when their bodies are doing something wild and untamed." She paused. "Her name is Patricia. She's been a birth doula for fifteen years. She's steady. She doesn't flinch. And she specializes in clients who are, shall we say, particular."
Julian's lips twitched. "Particular. Is that the clinical term?"
"It's the polite one." Brenda smiled, and her dry humor had softened into something kinder. "I've watched you twice now. You're not difficult. You're terrified. And that's a reasonable response to the most uncontrollable experience a body can have."
Julian pressed his cheek into the mat, letting the cool surface soothe his flushed skin. "I don't want to be handled."
"Nobody's going to handle you." Brenda's voice was firm. "Patricia will ask what you need, and then she'll do it. Nothing more. She works for you, Mr. Cross. She doesn't manage your birth. She supports it. There's a difference."
Theo's hand slid up Julian's arm, his fingers threading through Julian's and squeezing. "It could be good," Theo murmured. "Someone else who knows what to do. Someone who isn't me, so I can just be there. With you. Holding your hand."
Julian turned his head, studying Theo's face. His alpha's eyes were earnest, open, full of the same quiet devotion that had carried them through months of chaos and love and fear. Julian could feel the pup move again, a soft flutter, as if she were listening.
He looked back at Brenda. "Her number."
Brenda reached into her cardigan pocket and produced a business card, worn at the edges, offered like a gift. Julian took it. The paper was warm from her body heat.
"Thank you," he said quietly, and the words felt strange in his mouth, but they didn't break him.