Omega's Stepbrother

by Anna Wineheart

  And Wyatt’s parents acted like Hazel’s birth was some damn miracle.

  Raph looked at the roast chicken on the table, the fluffy mashed potatoes. His appetite had vanished. Wyatt’s story wasn’t his to tell. He wasn’t going to mention it in front of Grandma; she didn’t have the right to gloat over Wyatt’s trauma.

  He should correct his Mom and Dad, tell them the sort of shit Wyatt had been through. But Raph was the one who had driven him to that point; if he’d never kissed Wyatt, Grandma would never have found them. Raph was older. He should’ve known better. And yet... he hadn’t.

  “Penny’s a right example of a proper omega,” Grandma said. Penny blushed more.

  Raph stood, his stomach twisting, his pulse hammering in his ears. No such thing as proper or improper. Don’t you fucking dare judge Wy for that.

  “Raph?” Mom asked.

  Grandma looked at him shrewdly. Raph forced his lips into a smile; he was still paying the loans on his education. He owed Grandma so damn much, and he was tired of it. Tired of playing as her pawn.

  “I just remembered I had some unfinished work,” he said, glancing at his phone. “Sorry. I’ll be back next week.”

  “But the auditions,” Penny said.

  Raph paused at the doorway, glancing between Penny, and Dad’s hopeful face. “Fine,” he said, relenting. “Pick a song.”

  Then he left, and the night air had never felt so sweet on his face.

  12

  Raph

  Waitresses skated out of the drive-in’s side door, arms full of loaded trays. Raph drove slowly through the parking lot, parked behind the diner, and stepped out of the car.

  At the glass door, he paused, finding Wyatt easily at a table. His brother wore an easy smile on his lips, memorizing an order without writing it down. Raph slipped in, headed to the other side of the diner, where Hazel frowned at her math assignment. He slid into the booth across from her, and she looked up.

  “Hey,” Raph said. “Busy night?”

  “Yeah.” She peered over her shoulder, the tip of her pencil trailing across her homework. “Looks like it’s a full house. I told Dad I don’t mind going home, but he said it’s okay that I stay.”

  Raph cracked a smile. She really was a sweet child. “You can concentrate with this noise?”

  “What noise?” Hazel smiled back, her small teeth neat and white, like her dad’s. She’d grown used to the crowd’s murmur over the years, it seemed. And Raph understood why Wyatt would keep Hazel close—he’d be able to watch over her, even if it meant sacrificing a table’s worth of profits, night after night. Even if Hazel was Max’s daughter.

  He leaned back in his seat, glancing at his phone. At the lack of his attention, Hazel returned to her homework. Raph studied her discreetly, wondering how Wyatt had managed not to think about his ex, with his daughter so present in his life.

  But maybe Wyatt was haunted by Max, just like he sometimes drifted off, thinking about his grandmother.

  Raph swallowed, turning his phone around in his hands. He’d screwed up so badly with his stepbrother. It had been fear—he’d let Wyatt run off the first few days, trying to call him in private, unwilling to disrupt the rest of the family.

  All it had taken was a look from Grandma, and one line: Bring him back, and all of you will be living on the streets. Their parents had worried. Over the next few days, Wyatt had sent Mom some messages. Don’t worry about me. I’m staying with a friend.

  Raph should’ve done things differently. Should’ve stayed in Meadowfall, instead of leaving to enroll in Highton’s college. Should’ve come back to look for Wyatt, instead of hanging his head in shame. What good did apologizing do? Raph had failed to protect his brother. Wyatt had recovered, rebuilt his life.

  Watching Hazel, Raph realized that his guilt still lingered. And he’d put a baby in Wyatt’s belly, thrown Wyatt’s life into more upheaval.

  What kind of a sick alpha am I? Wy doesn’t deserve to be hurt again. If he stayed... would he disappoint Wyatt a second time?

  Disgusted, Raph slid out of the booth. Hazel glanced up at him.

  “I’m leaving,” Raph said. “Say hi to your dad for me.”

  “But you haven’t talked to him.” Hazel chewed on the end of her pencil. “He’ll be here in a bit—you just have to be patient. Uncle Sam will get you a drink if you ask.”

  “Maybe next time.”

  It occurred to Raph that Wyatt wasn’t earning anything from Hazel’s table tonight. So he pulled out his wallet, stopping by the register to tuck two twenties into the tip jar. Budget’s gonna kick my ass again.

  “That’s generous,” a low, lilting voice said to his side.

  Raph couldn’t smell the magnolia past the heavy scent of broth, but his heart quickened anyway. He turned.

  Wyatt smiled, hands tucked behind his back. Unlike the other servers with their yellow aprons, he was dressed like a manager, with a sleek white shirt and dark pants, and leather shoes that gleamed in the soft lamplight.

  “I pass the inspection?” Wyatt murmured.

  “Yeah.” Hard to say more when his throat was suddenly dry.

  Up close, Raph realized that there were faint shadows under Wyatt’s eyes. His expression was bright, dulled slightly by fatigue. Why are you working today? Raph wanted to pull him close, make him sit and rest. But Wyatt stood straight, determined to leave a good impression, and Raph’s heart swelled for him.

  “I didn’t think you were leaving so soon,” Wyatt said. “When did you arrive?”

  “Couple minutes ago.”

  “Only?” Wyatt licked his lips. Raph dragged his eyes away from Wyatt’s tongue. And was promptly distracted by the silvery mark on his neck, a hint of the new scar just by his collar. My omega.

  Over the past weeks, Wyatt had been picking at the scab. Raph had been nudging his hand away so the bite mark could heal. Looking at Wyatt, Raph’s shame and anger faded away. Wyatt wanted him here. Maybe he’d forgive Raph at some point, if Raph made it up to him enough.

  “You might want to stop staring,” Wyatt murmured. “I have patrons to see to.”

  And maybe leaving right now wasn’t the greatest idea. Not when Raph wanted to pull Wyatt close, kiss him on the lips.

  “When do you get off?” he asked.

  Wyatt sighed. “Closing shift. Maybe 1:30.”

  “I can send Hazel back.”

  “I don’t want to trouble you.”

  Raph rolled his eyes. “She’s my niece—it’s no big deal.”

  Wyatt’s eyes crinkled when he smiled. Weariness lingered in the lines of his face, though. Was it because of the pregnancy? “If you are, drop by the kitchen and tell Sam. He’s still pretty suspicious of you.”

  Yeah, Wyatt’s best friend had been giving him dubious looks, ever since Raph began asking to take Hazel home. But if Raph got to wait in Wyatt’s apartment after that, and wrap Wy in his arms when he got home, then Raph didn’t mind.

  Someone waved from one of the tables. Wyatt waved back, grinning. He turned back to Raph. “I’d love to talk more, but I don’t have time right now.”

  Raph shrugged. “I’ll wait.”

  “See you around.”

  Their hands brushed as Wyatt strode off. They couldn’t touch in public, and certainly not at the diner. But the skin contact sent a thrill down Raph’s nerves—a quiet whisper of I want to see you again. Raph hid his smile, ducking into the kitchen.

  He found Sam by the industrial fridges, pulling out a tray of thinly-sliced beef. Like Wyatt, Sam was omega—slender, pretty, his scent a faint dahlia. He was one of the Brentwood brothers—Raph had seen him in school years back.

  Sam turned when Raph approached, his eyes narrowing.

  “I spoke to Wyatt,” Raph said. “I’ll send Hazel home tonight. Tomorrow, too.”

  “Penny has the night shift tomorrow,” Sam said. “You’d have to talk to her about that.”

  Raph tried not to wince. For the past two weeks, he’d been
relieving Sam of his babysitting duties—he’d forgotten that Penny was involved. Penny didn’t even know that Raph had been meeting their brother. If she found out... well. She’d flip out. “I’ll do that.”

  “Look, I know this isn’t exactly my business,” Sam said, his expression guarded. “But Wy’s told me some of your history. I’d hate for you to hurt him and Hazel.”

  It rankled, because Raph had hurt Wyatt. How much did Sam know? “Of course I wouldn’t,” Raph muttered, wanting to growl. “I care for them. They’re my family.”

  Sam looked as though he wanted to say more, but held back. “Fine.”

  “Sorry,” Raph said. “I didn’t mean to deprive you of your time with them.”

  Sam shrugged, turning away. “I see them around.”

  It was as good as any conversation between them would go. Raph breathed a sigh, returning to Hazel’s booth.

  She blinked owlishly at him. “You’re back?”

  “Looks like I am.” Raph slid onto a cushioned seat, looking up at the accent lighting on the ceiling. The conversation with Sam bothered him—of course he knew he’d hurt Wyatt. Maybe everyone would know he’d hurt Wyatt. How did he prove that he wouldn’t again?

  Hazel wriggled, drawing a squiggly line down the side of her homework. “You look angry.”

  “Just thinking,” Raph said.

  “I don’t want to be an adult. It seems difficult.” She added leaves at the bottom of the line, and a daisy head at the top.

  Raph froze, wondering what she’d seen Wyatt do. “Does your dad say it’s difficult?”

  “It’s not so bad now,” she said, setting her pencil down. “But it used to be. I fell sick once and Dad cried when he saw the hospital bill. He tried to hide it.”

  His heart sank. Why didn’t you talk to me, Wy? It wasn’t like Raph was in far better financial straits, himself, but the thought of Wyatt crying... Raph should’ve been there. “Did he talk to your grandma about it?”

  Hazel pursed her lips, frowning. “I don’t think so.”

  Gods, Wyatt. How much crap have you gone through by yourself? “If your dad is ever that upset again, tell me, okay?”

  “Okay. Aunt Penny and Uncle Sam are on that list, too.”

  “Good.” Raph relaxed. So maybe Wyatt was in a better place now. He’d found a support group for himself, people who cared about him. He wouldn’t get to the point where he cried over bills anymore. Raph was proud of him for that. “Thanks.”

  Hazel smiled. “Lots of people love Dad, you know.”

  “I can see that.” Raph reached over the table, ruffling her hair. Over the past three weeks, he’d thought about raising a baby with Wyatt. Taking turns to change the baby’s diapers, taking turns to feed the baby, keep it company.

  Before he got together with Wyatt, he’d expected to have an omega at some point, maybe have kids. After he’d paid off his debt.

  Instead, Raph had an omega now. They were going to have a baby. And Raph still had a shitload of debt—six figures. He needed another two years with this job. He’d been crunching the numbers, sliding some savings into higher-risk investments.

  Most nights, he tried not to think about it, so he could catch some sleep.

  Yet as he met Hazel’s bright eyes, he thought he wouldn’t mind adopting her as his own, too.

  “What’s something that’ll get your dad really mad?” Raph asked.

  “Lying.” Hazel looked over her shoulder, but she couldn’t see Wyatt from where she sat. “Don’t ever lie to Dad.”

  Raph held his breath. He could see why—he’d heard about the lies Max had told Wyatt. Same lies that got Wy pregnant.

  But if Raph didn’t tell Wyatt about the debt, that didn’t count as a lie... right? Raph didn’t want to tell Wyatt about the hundred grand he had to pay, that was still sitting on his shoulders. They’d grown up around enough debt for Wy to be free of that.

  That’s my own crap to deal with, not Wy’s.

  On the other side of the aisle, a man stood from his table, a bundled infant in his arms.

  “I like his hair,” Hazel whispered.

  Discreetly, Raph glanced over. The man was an omega, maybe in his forties, his long auburn hair weaved into intricate French braids. With the narrow glasses perched on his nose, he looked serious, like a professor—not the sort of person who had time to do his hair.

  “Need help, Dale?” his companion—an alpha—asked, tucking some bills under a plate. He lifted a baby carrier from his seat, reaching over to straighten the paper crane clips in his omega’s hair.

  “Set the carrier on the table,” Dale said. “I don’t want to shake Phil up too much. He’s asleep.”

  The alpha was young, maybe twenty years younger than his omega. Not a common relationship in Meadowfall at all. They moved around each other with ease, Dale setting his baby in the carrier, his alpha lifting the carrier from the table when he was done.

  “Thanks, Greg,” Dale said, kissing his alpha on the lips. Greg smiled, and they shared a soft look.

  Raph wondered if that would ever happen with him and Wyatt, when their child was born. Would they go out together in public? Would Wyatt want to be seen with him? In Highton, no one would know who they were, and maybe they could relax around each other like this couple did.

  “I think his alpha did his hair,” Hazel whispered.

  Raph glanced at her, so they wouldn’t catch him staring. “Yeah?”

  But it made sense, when Dale looked down at their baby, and Greg tucked Dale’s hair behind his ear. They looked over and smiled at Hazel and Raph, and as they left the diner, Greg slipped his arm around Dale’s waist.

  “Aww,” Hazel said. She turned with a bright smile. “Dad helps me with my braids sometimes—I can’t do the French ones. Will you help?”

  “How...?” Raph had never done braids. He’d watched Penny tie them, but she’d always done them herself.

  Hazel squirmed out of the booth, pulling the hair tie from her ponytail. Then she plunked herself on the edge of Raph’s seat, turning her back to him.

  “I don’t even know how to tie braids,” Raph said.

  “There’s videos on YouTube. Here.” Hazel grabbed her phone from across the table, pulling up the YouTube app. In seconds, she had a how-to video playing. “This one is a basic braid. Try it first.”

  While Hazel separated her hair into three segments, Raph watched the video. He gathered her hair into his hands, crossed two bunches together, and fitted the third in the middle. When he reached the end of the basic braid, he tied it again. “Guess it’s not so bad.”

  “Yay! I really want a French braid,” Hazel said, tapping on her phone again. “Here’s my favorite French braid video. I want it around my head in a line like that.”

  She pointed to a spot somewhere behind her temple, and trailed a sloping line around the side of her head. Kind of like those elf omegas in the movies, with the twigs and leaves woven into their hair. Raph nodded solemnly, hoping he wouldn’t screw up. He managed people for a living, not tied braids.

  It turned out that French braids were the most fiddly, complex things ever. Raph had thought he’d do okay, since he’d tied the basic braids. But the French braids required him to add tiny segments of hair to each bundle. And Hazel’s hair was soft, silky, slipping out of his fingers like water.

  He messed up thrice. On the fourth attempt, Wyatt stopped by the table, an amused smile on his lips. “You look like you need help, Raph.”

  Raph’s face heated. “I’ve never done braids before, okay.”

  He thought Wyatt might laugh at him, or feed him some line about Hazel tying better braids. Instead, Wyatt said, “You’re doing really well for a beginner.”

  Raph chanced a look up at him. Wyatt’s eyes were honest, his smile fond.

  Hazel beamed. “I like Uncle Raph. He practiced with the normal braids first, like you taught me. I think he’ll get really good at tying my hair.”

  Raph couldn’t help snorting.
“You want me to braid your hair forever?”

  Hazel looked at him sideways, her hair slipping through his fingers again. “Yes.”

  And Raph didn’t know what this was, with Hazel so comfortable with him, and Wyatt looking down at them both, his eyes shining.

  He was moving slower than usual, though. Raph saw how drained he was. “You need to rest for a bit. You look dead on your feet.”

  “Surely I don’t.” Wyatt rubbed his face on his sleeve, but he was slow doing that, too.

  “You’re tired. Can you take a break?” Raph asked. “You’ve got a seat here.”

  And Wyatt smiled, warm and soft.

  “I’m fine, Raph. You’ll make such a great dad, you know,” he said, his hand drifting up to his flat belly. Raph realized Wyatt was also talking about their unborn child. Someday soon, they’d raise that baby together, and Hazel along with it.

  “I try,” Raph said when he found his voice. Hazel’s braid had gone loose again, and he tried to tug the different strands gently back into place. “But I doubt braids will be my thing.”

  “You can teach Hazel to play the violin,” Wyatt said. “I’ve been teaching her the piano.”

  Between them, Hazel perked up. None of the other patrons looked over, or stared.

  This should’ve been wrong, all of them being so close. But both Wyatt and Hazel welcomed him, and he fitted in with them. They felt like a family he hadn’t known he was missing.

  The thought left him breathless. “I’ll try,” Raph said. “It’s been a while since I played.”

  And the dinner at the mansion crashed back into his mind.

  “Shit,” Raph said. “The charity audition.”

  Wyatt frowned. “Language, Raph.”

  Hazel made a face. “I know what ‘shit’ is, Dad. Censorship is bad.”

  “You do need to be polite, hon.”

  “I know,” Hazel said. “But I can say ‘shit’ in front of you.”

  Raph bit down his smile. Wyatt groaned, exasperated. But his eyes glowed with love, and Raph knew Hazel would always be Wyatt’s most important person. That was fine.