Chapter 34 The Cold That Follows

Chapter 34 The Cold That Follows
Clara’s boots clicked softly against the wooden floor as she stepped into the living room, dragging her two bags beside her.

Her eyes swept over the space like she was appraising something that had once belonged to her.

She clocked the kids’ sneakers by the door, a folded blanket thrown across the couch, and the faint, homey scent of cinnamon cocoa and lavender still hanging warm in the air. Her nostrils flared slightly.

She knew that scent—his scent.

Her smile curled like silk hiding a blade.

“Well, well,” she said, stopping in the center of the room like she owned it. “Ezra Anderson with a cozy little pack. And your husband is adorable, by the way.”

Sebastian stood frozen just inside the door behind her, his back still pressed to it, one hand gripping the knob. His chest moved too fast. The scent of fresh lavender clung to him—sharp, rattled—cut with something richer: Alpha. Ezra’s scent. Still faintly slick-sweet around the edges. Claimed.

Ezra didn’t move from where he stood in the living room. His arms were crossed over his chest, shoulders tense, the air around him simmering with low, dominant warning. He was trying to stay in control. Failing.

“He’s not my husband,” Ezra said stiffly.

Clara turned her head slightly, eyes dragging slowly up Sebastian’s frame. His sweatshirt—Ezra’s, she realized now hung lopsided on his slim shoulders. His neck bore fading marks and fresh, dark blooms, partially hidden under cotton but unmistakable. Her expression brightened with something almost delighted.

“Boyfriend, then?”

“No.” Ezra’s voice cracked like a lash—too sharp, too quick. “He’s not my boyfriend either. We’re just—co-parenting. There’s nothing between us.”

That word rang out like a slap. Nothing.

Sebastian flinched so subtly it could have been mistaken for a breath. But his hand dropped from the doorknob, and the flush in his cheeks dulled to ash. His scent changed. It cooled. Receded like a tide.

Mia, sitting on the stairs, gave a scoff sharp enough to cut air. “Seriously?”

Ezra gave her a warning glance, tight and clipped—Not now.

But Mia didn’t back down. She never did when something smelled wrong.

Clara’s gaze turned fully to Sebastian now, and her expression was gleaming, hungry.

She walked closer, casually, as if testing the air. Her nose twitched once. Then she smiled. “I beg to differ. Unless hickeys and reeking of Alpha rut are part of the new parenting package.”

Sebastian didn’t move. His expression stayed calm, but his pupils were wide now—dilated. He was still riding the remnants of his last release, barely cooled down. Her words were gasoline on embers.

The scent of Ezra’s arousal was faint but still present. Buried under soap and coffee and cocoa—but it clung to Sebastian like a signature. Ezra had marked him thoroughly. She could smell it. Everyone could.

Ezra stepped forward, voice tight. “What are you doing here, Clara?”

“I’ve been calling,” she said, gliding to the couch like it belonged to her. She sank down with a hand brushing over her stomach, almost casually.

"Texting. You’ve been ignoring me, so I figured I’d come by. You made it clear you didn’t want to talk. But this?” Her eyes dragged around the room again, lingering on Sebastian. “This is adorable.”

Ezra opened his mouth, but Sebastian spoke first—quiet, controlled. “Mia, why don’t you bring Clara a cup of cocoa?”

There was a tense beat of silence.

“You’ve got to be joking,” Mia snapped.

“Mia.” Sebastian didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to. His scent shifted again, firmer now—an Omega’s request cloaked in calm authority. Beneath it, the bitterness of humiliation lingered like ash.

Mia clenched her jaw but turned and stomped into the kitchen.

Clara’s hand wandered lazily over her stomach again. Ezra’s gaze dropped to it, involuntarily.

“Don’t look so shocked, Ezra,” she said sweetly. “I’m pregnant. You didn’t give me a chance to say it—you were too busy ghosting me. But yes. I found out after we broke up.”

Ezra’s jaw locked. “We broke up three months ago.”

Clara gave a serene nod. “Exactly. A few weeks later, I realized I was late. Took three tests. Positive, positive, positive.”

In the kitchen, the spoon stirring cocoa clinked hard against ceramic. Sebastian still hadn’t moved from the doorway.

Clara’s eyes slid to him again. “I see you didn’t waste time finding a replacement.”

Ezra’s voice was low. Defensive. “You’re the reason I went to that club in the first place. You dumped me that night. I was drinking just to forget.”

“To forget me?” Her brows arched. “Or to find something that reminds you of me?”

Sebastian’s scent flared, sharp and crushed, like wilted lavender. Ezra’s scent pulsed in response—instinctive, possessive, hot with suppressed heat.

Mia reentered and dropped the cocoa onto the table. It sloshed over the rim, puddling beneath the mug.

Clara smiled. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

Mia’s nostrils flared. “Don’t call me that.”

Ezra gave her a warning look, but she didn’t flinch. Sebastian finally moved, peeling away from the door, his steps cautious. He stayed near the wall, as far from Clara as he could be.

Clara took a sip of the cocoa. “So tell me—do the boys call you both Dad? Or did you divvy it up? Daddy and Papa, maybe?”

Sebastian blinked. Just once. But Ezra felt it—that flicker of something dark behind his Omega’s eyes.

Ezra stepped forward, voice low. “That’s enough.”

Clara waved her hand dismissively. “Relax. I’m just curious. Since I’m part of this circus now.”

Ezra stiffened.

Sebastian’s lips parted. A soft, barely audible breath.

Then he turned to the children. “Come on, kids. Let’s go upstairs. Clara needs a room.”

Mia hesitated, staring Ezra down as Sebastian walked up the stairs with the twins. “You’re just gonna let her stay?”

Ezra didn’t answer. The silence reeked of hesitation.

Upstairs, the air was quieter, but not lighter. Heavy, muffled silence filled the guest room as Sebastian pulled back the sheets.

Mia leaned against the wall, arms crossed. The twins hovered beside her.

“You okay?” Mia asked quietly, arms crossed.

Sebastian nodded once. “Of course.”

Camden tugged his sleeve. “Why’s Daddy not talking?”

Sebastian’s smile was paper-thin. “He’s tired, baby. That’s all.”

The door flung open.

Ezra stood there, wild-eyed, his scent storming in behind him—spicy and sharp, like he’d sprinted through a heatwave. “Seb,” he said, hoarse. “Clara—she’s just an ex, and—”

“I know,” Sebastian said, not turning.

Ezra came closer. “We were over when she got pregnant. I swear to you.”

Sebastian turned then. His face was unreadable. His eyes dull and hollow like something inside had quietly folded in on itself. “She’s staying, right?”

Ezra hesitated.

Sebastian gave a soft laugh. No sound in it. “Thought so.”

He brushed past Ezra. Their bodies touched—barely—but the heat of Ezra’s skin soaked through Sebastian’s clothes, a reminder of what they'd done less than an hour ago. The lavender of Sebastian’s scent trailed after him, muted and bruised.

He called gently to the twins. They followed him without hesitation.

Mia stood a moment longer, her expression torn.

“You just gonna let her waltz in like she didn’t leave you broken?”

Ezra’s mouth parted, but he had no words.

Mia shook her head. “You’re gonna lose him, you know.”

Ezra didn’t speak.

She left him standing there,
alone again. Wrapped in the echo of nothing.

And the house fell silent—but the air was still charged. Like heat lightning waiting to strike.