"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 feltas 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.