— VOICENOTE —

8:45 am: Hey, Wade. How's everything up at the ranch? Listen... there's somethin' I been meanin' to talk to you 'bout. I want you to hear it from me before anyone else's mouth. I was thinkin' of meetin' you in Texas, but I got too much on my plate. With the two races comin' up—been practicing a lot lately. Anyway... can you fly down here next weekend and leave the farm work for Tyler and Danny to take care of?

From Landon McCoy to Wade Cooper | ✓Delivered | unread

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

The sound of Landon's heart beating, racing, from within his chest seemed stranger by the day, and every day it got more noticeable. Right now in the early morning hours, for instance, in the quiet kitchen, shirtless, as he chopped up carrots, kale, cucumbers, and avocados to make a green smoothie, the echo of his speeding heart appeared more noticeable, more worrying. He swallowed down the lump in his throat, trying to stir his thoughts elsewhere before dumping all the chopped vegetables into the blender and turning it on to drown out his growing dilemma.

It had been exactly seven days since his life changed. The thought alone of everything that happened—and how quickly it happened, was still baffling to him. One minute he was practicing with his friends, and then the next everything blew out of proportion. He blamed Jackson for this: not only had the younger man outed them to all of Landon's friends, but he had also beaten Ethan up, announced that they were dating, and bit him afterward. They weren't even dating, goddamnit! Yet, he had agreed to be with Jackson when the youngster begged him for a chance; too bloody lost in getting his cock sucked to think right.

They were now together, him and Jackson.

He still couldn't believe it; he had a boyfriend now. He never had a boyfriend. The age gap still felt wrong too, damnit. And although he admitted that he liked Jackson a lot, never in a million years would he imagine he'd be with a man, much less an Alpha like himself. All his life he'd been attracted to women, Omega women to be more precise.

They weren't even anything alike. Hell, they were complete opposites if he were honest. There were many times during this week he came up with ways of how Jackson was just using him—messing with his mind for clout. Yet, there was no denying that Jackson had shown a side of himself that Landon knew none had known about; especially when they were up in Texas. A kinder side, a considerate side, a genuine side, a mature side... despite his obvious obnoxious, pompous, and alarming attitude.

Landon rubbed his temples and sighed before turning the blender off and pouring himself a glass full of the green smoothie.

Jackson had been awfully calm about this whole ordeal, of course, he was.

The youngster had been acting like... like they were deeply in love. Was he genuinely in love with Landon, though? Wasn't it too soon? They had only known each other for a year. It was strange, yet this past week Landon found himself oddly engrossed in Jackson's affectionate antics—always indulging in it like he genuinely enjoyed it. Maybe to an extent, he did.

Jackson wanted them to go public, but Landon shut the idea down. He knew deep down some day, if they wanted to be together, he would need to announce it, though—that was if one of the boys from the track that day didn't out them before. Ethan was pretty pissed; he even stopped talking to him, and Landon didn't know how to feel about it. Sweet niblets, everything was moving too fast. Still, he needed to gear up to hear what the press would say when the news got out—they would have a field day. He just hoped no one would call him some sick and twisted name because it wasn't him who came onto Jackson, it was Jackson who came onto him.

Ah, gotta love the consequences of his own actions.

Bing!

9:15 am: Appointment Reminder: We look forward to seeing Landon for an appointment at 4:30 PM tomorrow at 7300 Medical Center Dr, West Hills, CA 91307, with Dr. Lauran Dawson, MD. If you need to cancel or reschedule this appointment, respond to this message, or call our office as soon as possible at (818) 676-4000. REPLY WITH "YES" TO CONFIRM.

From UCLA West Valley Medical Center to Landon McCoy | ✓Delivered | read

8:56 am: YES.

From Landon McCoy to UCLA West Valley Medical Center | ✓Delivered | read

"Morning, baby."

Landon jerked at Jackson's unexpected voice; however, he quickly calmed down when the youngster pressed his shirtless, sweaty chest up against Landon's back, wrapped his big strong arms around his waist, and smiled into his neck. Dang, he was still trying to wrap his head around Jackson's comfortable usage of sweet talk. It had only been a week, couldn't he wait at least a month more?

"How in tarnination did you get past the front door?" Landon muttered, his face heating up when he looked over his shoulder at Jackson, who just got back from the gym. "I thought I locked the door."

"You gave me a key, remember?" Jackson mumbled into his neck.

"I did? I ain't remember—"

"That's because you're like half a century, old man. Old people forget things."

"Wow, thanks for remindin' me," Landon rolled his eyes before chugging the last of the smoothie and shrugging Jackson away from him. "What you doin' here so early anyway?"

Jackson shrugged before pressing his face deeper into Landon's neck, scenting him like they were wild animals. "Have no plans, so thought I'd spend the day with my boyfriend."

A smile crept on Landon's face. It was nice to know the younger man would rather spend time with him than spend it playing video games at home all day because he damn well knew how obsessed Jackson was over those games. He never understood why, though. What was so fun 'bout runnin' 'round and shootin' people in a warzone?

It would be nice to stay home, too. Unfortunately, he had things to do—business to take care of. "I got things to do," he said. "I ain't need you here with me today botherin' me."

Jackson faked a gasp and touched his chest as if the words somehow hurt him. "Ouch. Is that how you talk to your boyfriend, McCoy? Be more nicer and I'll suck you off until your legs tremble in the shower—" he winked. "Mm? What you say?"

Landon sighed and faced the younger man with a disinterested look on his face. "As much as I'd love to get my cock sucked on this fine Wednesday mornin', I got a heap of things that need tendin' to today."

"We really need to start thinking about our future. We should live together."

Landon went for the kitchen door to step out. "It's only been a week."

Jackson followed and groaned. "But I loved you for so much longer."

"Jackson, go home."

"Can I come with you? Where you even going? We're boyfriends now—so you gotta tell me."

Landon paused, his mouth compressed as he bit down a curse. "If you're hell-bent on knowin', I'm meetin' with Brandon to talk 'bout the All-Star Race comin' up in three months. So no, you ain't comin' with me. Or... you can't come—strictly business."

Jackson's face dropped. "Fine. I'm leaving. But I'll come over tonight."

"Thank you."

He was ready for Jackson to leave; however, the younger came up to him and entwined their fingers; gentleness gleaming in his eyes. To Landon, the simple act of Jackson's hand in his felt so comforting, so subtle, so calm; it brought joy as no one had ever held him the way Jackson—

"Just call me when you get there," Jackson muttered. "And... I love you."

Jackson had been saying he loved him at least five times a day for the past week.

Landon cleared his throat. "Mhm."

"Can you say it back?"

"Say what back?"

"I love you. I wanna hear it."

Landon bit the inside of his cheek, his eyes went downward. Why did Jackson have to push so damn hard? Why couldn't he just let things be as is? The words "I love you" clung to the back of Landon's throat like a weight he wasn't ready to swallow.

"Jackson, it's been a hot week," he said, sighing because he knew the next words he was about to say would stifle the mood. "You can't jus' throw those words 'round like it's nothin'. I ain't ready for that. Hell, I don't even know what this is yet."

Jackson's playful demeanor faltered, and his features turned dark before he removed his hands away from Landon's.

"I see..."

It was shocking to see him go from happy-go-lucky to a strange coldness. Landon didn't get enough time to ponder on what it might've been—of what could've caused this, because it vanished as quickly as it appeared; but by heavens, it seemed like the devil just appeared out of nowhere and possessed Jackson. He knew he should've gotten used to Jackson's odd behavior by now—he kept tellin' himself he should, but he simply couldn't get it past him.

He still liked him, though.

Damnit.

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

The next day: UCLA West Valley Medical Center.

At this point, Landon regretted not visiting the hospital earlier. What was he thinking? He should've never listened to Jackson; the youngster didn't know what he was talking about, and that was why he didn't tell Jackson about today either. He wouldn't understand that at Landon's age, the minute something goes South, the hospital should've been the first place to be. Now there he was, sitting in the doctor's office, staring at the four white walls, fiddling with his sweaty palms in the quiet room. He could feel bile rising in his throat and souring his tongue.

What if something was really wrong with him?

What if he was dying?

He didn't want to die, goddamnit! He was still too young, and he just got into a relationship. He was planning on traveling to Europe sometime in the distant future, just like Brandon suggested. Oh no, Spirit. She would think he abandoned her. What would happen to his ranch? If he didn't do something, the State would take it. Wade would miss him, and so would Vanessa, surely Jackson cared for him—and his fans. His car. His career. Would he be remembered? Maybe he would be plastered on the Hall of Fame wall? Bloody hell...

He didn't want to die. He didn't want to die. He didn't want to die.

"Long time no see, Mr. McCoy."

Landon jerked in his seat; his eyes doubling—all thoughts quickly left, but his heart rate picked up speed. It was Dr. Lauren Dawson who entered into the room; a Beta woman with blond hair and blue eyes, and wrinkled creaces at the corners of her mouth when she smiled.

He quickly covered a hand over his heart and sighed, catching his breath before he smiled and chuckled before replying with a simple, "Hey, Doc."

Dr. Dawson took a seat in front of Landon, her eyes on the clipboard in her hands. "How you've been?"

Landon shifted in his seat and rubbed the back of his neck. His eyes flicked to the floor for a moment, debating whether to lie or tell the truth. In the end, lying wouldn't do any good. He sighed, and answered, "Been great until recently." He hesitated before quickly adding, "What 'bout you?"

"Oh, just trying," she answered, a soft smile on her face. "How's the racing coming along? Saw you won in that last race... Daytona? Right?"

"Correct," he replied with a tight smile.

Dr. Dawson had been his doctor for the past five years. At this point, she knew him well enough, and he knew her well enough for them both to consider each other friends.

"Alright," she sighed. "So... you've got some concerns. Nausea, vomiting, a general feeling of unwell, and..." Her eyes flickered to the clipboard one more time before she looked back at Landon. "Weight gain?"

Suddenly, Landon's throat felt dry. "Yup... and recently I've been noticing my heart rate been goin' up. I ain't know what's going on." After a beat, he looked straight at her and added, "It's really worrying me."

"Since when has this been happening?"

Landon nodded, trying to recall the exact date when this all started. "I ain't too sure. Maybe a month—five, six weeks tops. It all started at that damn restaurant. I ate somethin'—some octopus, and it gave me food poisonin'."

He watched Dr. Dawson scribble something onto her clipboard before returning his gaze. "Why didn't you come to me earlier?"

Because he was stupid and listened to someone equally stupid, he didn't say.

"I ain't think much of it, and I was in Texas," he muttered. "I'm an idiot, I should've gone to the hospital. Been vomiting for a couple days straight since then, mostly in the mornings. And I've been feeling an awful lot of nausea ever since—it ain't goin' 'way. And, I don't know... I jus' don't feel right. You know what I mean? Something ain't feelin' right. Plus, I've been gainin' weight. I've been eatin' healthy, so I ain't know."

Dr. Dawson nodded in understanding. "And your heart rate?"

"It's been pretty bad."

Dr. Dawson didn't respond right away. The silence in the room stretched for a few seconds, broken only by the sound of paper rustling as she flipped a page on the clipboard, and scribbled more words. Finally, she looked up and said, "How about we start by checking your heart rate first, and then we'll do a blood and urine test—work our way around from there. How does that sound?"

Landon shrugged. "Well, you're the Doc. I reckon you know best."

"Perfect," she smiled and got up. "Please come with me, Mr. McCoy."

Landon had completed all the tests Dr. Dawson issued him, and now he found himself back inside the white waiting room with other patients, the scent of antiseptic clinging to the air, along with hushed whispers from other patients and their families.

Every so often he needed to swallow, the taste of bile thicker than ever on his throat. God, he hated hospitals. He glanced at the clock on the wall—thirty minutes had passed, but it felt like hours. A moment later, he stared at the closed door across from him, waiting for it to open and reveal Dr. Dawson. Damnit, he chewed on his lower lip.

He needed to distract himself, he needed—

He quickly shuffled for his phone in his pocket, readying to turn it on; however, on the blank screen where he could see his reflection, something caught his attention and his thoughts wandered elsewhere...

The bite mark that Jackson left on his neck.

It was hidden underneath his shirt collar; however, his position made the fabric wonky, revealing the disturbing sight. Suddenly, a cold shiver raced down his back. The bite mark appeared almost as fresh as a week ago. It was unsettling, and bruised and damaged to look at; like a rabid animal had bit into his neck and ripped out a chunk of his flesh. It still hurt; still tender to the touch.

Landon didn't understand; it was supposed to heal completely by now—they were both Alphas, yet it showed no signs of healing the way it should, instead, it seemed to heal slowly with signs of a lingering, permanent scar. Permanent as in, a permanent mate mark that Alphas and Omegas leave on each other, or Alphas and Betas—or even Betas and Omegas, but never the same sub-genders... never an Alpha and Alpha. Why was this happening? Maybe he should confide in Dr. Dawson about it since he was already at the hospital.

"Mr. McCoy?" A nurse snapped Landon out of his growing dilemma. "Dr. Dawson is waiting for you; you may go in."

Landon sighed.

Everything blurred together in a series of flashes, and before Landon knew it, he was back in Dr. Dawson's office, sitting in the same chair as before. His eyes were fixed on the doctor as she studied her clipboard, her face unreadable. Normally, Dr. Dawson was warm, her expressions easy to read, but now her stoic demeanor sent a wave of unease through him. Something wasn't right. Landon could feel it in the pit of his stomach, and he braced himself for whatever bad news was about to come.

Finally, Dr. Dawson cleared her throat and began, "Um... yeah, okay. We've got a lot to unpack here, Mr. McCoy."

Landon didn't like the tone of that. He nodded and swallowed hard, anxiety creeping back in. "Just give it to me, Doc. Am I dyin'?"

"What?" Dr. Dawson seemed gobsmacked for a second before she regained her composure and laughed anxiously. "No. No—of course not, don't be silly. You're not dying."

Oh.

Oh.

Then it couldn't be too bad. Suddenly, Landon sighed in relief, releasing a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. He chuckled softly, the tension easing a bit as he wiped the creeping sweat from his forehead. "Then what is it? Just spit it out, I can take it."

"Uh..." Dr. Dawson hesitated; her eyes flickering to the clipboard and then back to Landon. "Have you been using any protection lately? When you're having sexual intercourse? Have you been protecting yourself?"

Landon's eyes doubled at the implication. "Oh my god, I got STD," he said before he could stop himself. "Is that what this is 'bout? I know I shouldn't trust that little shit when he said he was clean—"

"No!" Dr. Dawson quickly interrupted; her hands flaring to stop Landon from stressing further. "No... you don't have STD. Have you been using condoms? Contraceptives?"

Huh?

"Now Lauren, you know I'm an Alpha. Why would I need—"

"You're pregnant."

As Landon felt the weight of the words crash down on him, he didn't know if he should laugh or be worried. However, Dr. Dawson's serious expression made him stop the smile threatening to creep up. "Come on, let's not joke 'round," he said, not knowing where this sudden alarm in his stomach came from. "I'm really not in the mood for games—"

Dr. Dawson's expression remained serious, unwavering. "I'm not joking, you really are pregnant. And you're seven weeks in already. It's why you've been gaining weight and feeling the way you've been feeling. You're perfectly healthy, I can assure you—"

What in tarnination?

"No." Landon's mind reeled, desperately clinging for answers. Pregnant? Him? Impossible. It was laughable and ridiculous to think an Alpha couldn't get pregnant. "Have you even been listenin' to yourself?" Just the very idea felt foreign, alien—something that happened to others, not to him. He was an Alpha, damnit. This wasn't how it worked. Then why was he starting to believe her? He could feel the blood rushing in his ears and his heart thundering in his chest. Unthinkingly, he raised his voice in panic, "I'm not some fruity Omega twink walkin' 'round with a belly full of kids. I'm an Alpha, Lauren. Alphas can't get... pregnant."

Dr. Dawson seemed genuinely taken aback by his words; however, he didn't care.

"Okay, so that's wildly inappropriate," the doctor said sternly. "Please refrain from any misogynistic comments. I understand how it sounds, but I promise you, the test results don't lie. This is a possibility, especially with who you've been sleeping with. You have to consider that there are also En—"

"I know who I've been sleepin' with—and he's a bloody Alpha jus' like me."

"Landon—"

"No way!" Landon shot up from his seat; sweat soaking through his shirt while he paced back and forth in the office; Dr. Dawson's pitiful eyes were on him the entire time. "This is some kinda mistake. You gotta to double-check those results or somethin'. There's gotta be an explanation for this!"

"Landon, I know this is shocking, but your results are clear."

"I can't believe this," he whispered under his breath; his fingers now trembling.

"Is it possible you've been sleeping with an Enigma and not an Alpha?"

The word came out breathlessly, "An Enigma?"

An Enigma: the apex of dominance within the sub-genders hierarchy. They were more powerful than Alphas—much more powerful. Not only could they dominate, but they could also impregnate an Alpha. Landon's hand instinctively moved to his neck, brushing against the spot where Jackson had bitten him, where it wouldn't heal properly.

His lips moved before he could think, "I ain't never seen one of those in my life, Lauren. Shouldn't I know what they look like?"

She nodded. "Not necessarily... look, maybe you didn't know. But only an Enigma can get an Alpha pregnant. That's a fact."

"No..." A knot twisted in his stomach as the weight of her words settled over him. "He... he would've told me if he was an Enigma," he whispered to himself. Yet, Jackson was clearly stronger than him, overpowering many times with ease—had a strange shift of moods than anyone he knew. He nodded in disbelief. "Everyone knows him as an Alpha." Jackson had a bigger build underneath his clothes than any other Alphas, though. Suddenly, Landon's widened eyes met Dr. Dawson's. The realization hit like a thunderbolt, sending shockwaves through his mind. "What the hell he done to me?" It felt as if the pieces of a twisted puzzle were falling into place, yet he couldn't bring himself to accept it—he refused to believe it. But he must... "No—no—no, this can't be happenin'."

"Landon? Are you alright?" Seeing his distress, Dr. Dawson got up with caution. "Do you want a glass of water?"

In an instant, Landon found himself moving—rushing out of the office with an angry scold on his face. "I gotta go."

Panic surged through Dr. Dawson's face. "Where are you going? Wait—Landon!"

Landon gritted his teeth and paid her no mind; his thoughts occupied with images of Jackson—and all the ways he planned on feeding his boyfriend his fist for dinner tonight.

Who gave a flyin' fuck if he was an Enigma? 

A/N: Does anyone want to add their ideas on what to write next? 👀💀 I have a few, but more is appreciated.