Chris closed the phone and let it fall on the coffee table near him. His latte was cold by now, skin temperature at best, but he lifted it anyway and sipped. It didn't help. He set it back down beside the phone.
His thoughts felt like they were moving too fast and too far in every direction. Less than a year ago, his world had been difficult but predictable. Now it was sharp edges, political detonations, chemical experiments, attempted kidnappings, Ethan possibly becoming an omega, and a nation's fury balanced entirely on the mood of his husband. He knew with absolute clarity that none of this happened because of him. He also knew that logic had very little influence over the treacherous part of the human brain that specialized in guilt.
