Wyatt pulled his phone from his back pocket. Then he snapped a picture of Raph, with Hazel’s braid half-undone in his hands. “This has to be the picture of the year.”
“Seriously?” Raph said. A picture of him tying braids?
“Yeah.” Wyatt tucked the phone back, the fatigue from his face melting away. “A photo of my two favorite people.”
Since when did I become your favorite person?
“Don’t let Uncle Sam hear that,” Hazel whispered. “Or he’ll get pissy.”
Wyatt glanced at the kitchen, then back at Hazel and Raph. Had there ever been something between Wyatt and Sam? Wyatt had said he didn’t have an alpha, but Sam was omega.
With some hesitation, Raph nodded at the kitchen entrance. “Were you and him...?”
Wyatt saw through him anyway, smiling. “He’s my best friend, Raph. That’s all there is to it.”
Hazel nodded. “Yeah.” In a whisper, she added, “Dad doesn’t kiss Uncle Sam.”
Wyatt’s cheeks darkened. “Hazel!”
He’d only kiss Raph, not Sam. And that killed the uncertainty in Raph’s gut. Wyatt was bonded to him. Very much interested in him. Raph wanted to pull him close, feel Wyatt’s body flush against his.
“Just saying the truth.” Hazel smiled, all innocent.
Wyatt sighed. “Right. What’s this about an audition?”
“Dad signed us up for one. I told Penny to pick a song.”
“Damn it, Raph.” Wyatt grimaced, flopping down on Hazel’s abandoned seat. “They don’t even know I’ve met you.”
“Think I don’t know that?” Raph winced. “On hindsight, I shouldn’t have agreed to it. When did you last play the piano?”
“Two weeks back, maybe.” Wyatt peered at him. “When did you last play the violin?”
“Maybe a year or two. I’ve just been maintaining mine, but no real playing.”
“That’s a pity,” Wyatt said, something flickering through his face. Pity? “I loved hearing you play.”
Years ago, on sunny afternoons, Wyatt had sat cross-legged on Raph’s bed, watching as Raph played their favorite songs. It had been bittersweet; Wyatt had made it plenty clear that he was interested in Raph. And Raph had always pushed him away.
“I want to hear, too,” Hazel said, bouncing. The French braid slipped completely out of Raph’s fingers. Raph sighed, combing her hair out. It was impossible for him to tie that braid.
“Think you can bring your violin over sometime?” Wyatt grinned. “I’ll treat you to dinner if you do.”
Raph swallowed, his stomach growling. He hadn’t eaten. And Wyatt’s enthusiasm was difficult to refuse. “Yeah, I guess I could. But I’m rusty. It’ll sound godawful when I start practicing.”
“That’s okay,” Wyatt said. “I just wanted to hear you play again.”
He looked all warm and soft in the diner’s lights, his eyes bright, his hair golden. And Raph breathed in deep, unable to look away. Wyatt was beautiful. Precious. Raph wanted to make him smile, wanted Wyatt to nestle into his chest. If he had to play his violin again, well. That wasn’t the end of the world.
13
Wyatt
The pregnancy was progressing, as certainly as the sun rose and set. Wyatt sighed as he keyed in the latest orders, his limbs heavy. The fatigue had begun in the last few days; he was tired every time he woke, and he’d been struggling not to fall asleep before he returned home.
All things considered, this pregnancy was a lot easier than his previous—he wasn’t working two jobs a day now, and he had a warm bed to sleep in at night.
When the kitchen bell tinkled, Wyatt picked up the order, serving it up to Raph and Hazel’s table. Hazel was back at the braids again. Raph craned his neck, his nostrils flaring.
“Want the smaller bowl?” Wyatt teased, setting Hazel’s half-filled bowl in front of him.
Hazel leaned over the table. “Is that mine? Or does Uncle Raph not like the seaweed, too?”
Ten minutes ago, Wyatt had promised him the house special. Raph had nodded, barely glancing at the menu. And Wyatt hadn’t known if Raph wasn’t interested in the noodles, or if he trusted that the food would be good, no matter what he had.
“No seaweed in both these bowls,” Wyatt said, sliding Hazel’s bowl in front of her. Then he set Raph’s noodles down, watching as Raph took in the sprinkle of chopped green onion, the slices of slow-cooked pork, the hard-boiled egg cut in half. “Unless you developed an appetite for seaweed while you were gone.”
Raph glanced up at him, his eyes unreadable. “You remembered?”
“Of course I do. How can I forget?”
They’d shared afternoons at the mansion, where Mom would bring home bags of expiring food from the grocery store. Wyatt had torn into the packets of crispy roasted seaweed, salty, paper-thin layers that would stick to his tongue. Raph had never liked them. He’d nibbled on the crackers instead, offering to share, but Wyatt had never been a cracker fan.
We’re two halves of a whole, he’d told Raph. You eat the food I don’t like, and I eat the food you don’t like.
Until Wyatt made noodles with broth, and Raph had asked for a second serving, then a third. The same noodles that Wyatt now sold at the drive-in.
Wyatt blinked away those memories, watching as Raph grabbed a pair of chopsticks. Hazel was already slurping down her noodles.
“Hazel’s faster than you,” he said, chuckling. “Are you losing to her?”
Raph grinned. “Nah. I want to savor your food.”
And maybe that sounded dirty, with the way Raph’s tongue flicked over his lips.
“I skipped dinner at Mom and Dad’s,” Raph said. “Wasn’t keen on staying there with Grandma.”
Wyatt grimaced. Grandma was always a sore subject; there wasn’t any way he could talk about her and smile. “Well, you’ve found yourself some good company.”
He wanted to run his fingers through Raph’s unruly black hair. Instead, Wyatt kept his hands to himself, watching as Raph folded a thin slice of braised pork into his mouth, his eyelids fluttering shut. “Mm.”
Wyatt knew the taste of that pork—the mellow salt of the soy sauce, the sweet hint of mirin, the fragrance of ginger and garlic, simmered for hours until the flavors married. “Like it?”
“Gods, yeah,” Raph groaned, and maybe Wyatt shouldn’t be watching him eat, because it sounded like sex.
Raph pushed another slice of pork into his mouth, chewing, his throat working, his lips glistening with broth. Wyatt gulped. This was why he hadn’t fed Raph any of the drive-in’s regular food. Because he’d known Raph would love it, and appreciate it, and maybe Wyatt was enjoying the way he ate far too much.
“I’ll be back later,” Wyatt said, so he had an excuse not to look at Raph.
“I’ll check in with you before I bring Hazel home,” Raph said, meeting his eyes. Wyatt’s heart skipped a beat.
Maybe he was falling in love with Raph. He shouldn’t.
If they’d only been bondmates, tied together by a baby, it wouldn’t have felt quite as wrong. But Wyatt had just watched Raph with Hazel, tying uneven, unpracticed braids into her hair.
Raph would pick up a new skill for Wyatt’s daughter, just because she asked. If that wasn’t generous of him, Wyatt didn’t know what it was. And his heart answered with an intense flutter. Was this a different sort of love?
He busied himself with the rest of the tables, taking some of the load off his other servers. Time dragged.
It was only when Raph came up to him, Hazel by his side, her backpack on her shoulders, that the crawling minutes began to fly again. Wyatt left a table of newly-settled patrons, meeting them by the glass doors.
“I’ll pick up my violin after I’ve dropped Hazel off,” Raph said, hands in his pockets.
Wyatt’s breath caught. “It’s a two-hour trip to and from Highton.”
“Not like I’ve got anything else to do.”
Wyatt’s breath caught. Raph would grab his
violin and play again, just because Wyatt asked. And maybe he really did love this man, whatever sort of love that was. “Oh,” he said. “I’ll look forward to that.”
“Try not to miss us too much,” Hazel said, nudging Raph with her elbow. She grinned; Wyatt realized he hadn’t been looking at her at all. Shame on him as a dad.
“You’re getting sassy on me, aren’t you?” he said, pulling her into a hug. “Night, hon. See you in the morning.”
“I’m always sassy.” Hazel’s arms tightened around him, small but firm. “Night, Dad. Love you.”
“See you later,” Raph said. His gaze dropped to Wyatt’s lips, then drifted back to his eyes. Wyatt wished they weren’t in the middle of a crowded diner, so he could lean into Raph, breathe his scent off his skin.
“See you,” he said instead.
Hazel led the way out. Raph glanced at Wyatt a last time. Despite his weariness, Wyatt’s body hummed. He wanted to be home with his family, with Raph. But the drive-in was short-staffed tonight—all he had to do was get through the next few hours.
He watched until they rounded the corner, out of sight. Then he turned, wishing the remaining hours would speed by somehow.
By 2 AM, the fatigue had drained most of the strength from Wyatt’s limbs. With a momentous effort, he hauled himself out of his car. Then he staggered up the stairs, dragging his arm up to press the doorbell. It felt like he was lifting a boulder.
In moments, the door opened. Raph frowned, stepping out to gather Wyatt into his arms. “You don’t look okay.”
“‘M so tired,” Wyatt mumbled, leaning into Raph’s chest.
Raph had changed out of his button-down shirt and pants, into a loose T-shirt and shorts. Wyatt nosed into his shoulder, breathing in soap and teak. Raph smelled like home, like comfort, and Wyatt sagged against his chest, letting his exhaustion take over. He was home now.
“Fuck, I was gonna ask if you could leave early.”
Raph shut the door. He bent, swept Wyatt’s knees out from under him, and carried him to his bedroom. Wyatt closed his eyes, barely aware of anything else, save for Raph, and Raph’s warmth soaking through his clothes.
“I could’ve gone and picked you up.”
“You don’t have to bother,” Wyatt said.
Raph set him gently on the bed, flicked the lights on, and fitted himself against Wyatt’s side. He pulled off Wyatt’s shoes, then started on his shirt. “You can’t even stand, Wy. Can’t you take a few days off work?”
Wyatt snuggled into him, his shirt now gaping open. “The drive-in needs me.”
“You’ve got good staff there.” Raph started on Wyatt’s belt, tugging it open, then unzipping his pants. “Trust them to take over for a few days.”
Wyatt sighed. Right now, it seemed like a good idea to succumb to sleep, and let everything else fall into place. Raph eased the shirt off Wyatt’s shoulders, then laid him back on the bed. He pulled off Wyatt’s socks, then his pants and underwear. Wyatt let him. He’d slept with Raph a few times by now; he trusted Raph with his body.
From his crouch, Raph pressed a kiss to Wyatt’s belly. He left the bed for a bit; Wyatt closed his eyes.
When he opened them again, Raph was cradling him in the bathroom, and the shower was running, water vapor clinging heavy on his skin.
“I fell asleep?” Wyatt mumbled.
“Yeah, no sex for you tonight.” Raph knelt, then sat Wyatt in the tub, leaning him against a folded towel. “No need to stay awake. I’m gonna get you clean, and we’ll go to sleep.”
“Mm.” Sleep sounded good.
“This hot enough?” Raph angled the shower stream on Wyatt’s foot, a warm, soothing patter of water.
“Gods, yeah.” The heat seeped into his body, warmer than the cold tub, and Wyatt shivered.
Raph shrugged out of his shirt and shorts, climbing into the tub. He closed the shower curtain, sealing them into dim light and humid air. Wyatt watched him muzzily, admiring Raph’s expanse of tanned, smooth skin.
In silence, Raph knelt in front of Wyatt. He leaned Wyatt forward, wetting Wyatt’s hair with the gentle spray. Then the water shut off, and a bottle cap snapped open. Raph lathered his hands, then began to work the shampoo into Wyatt’s hair, strong fingers massaging his scalp. Wyatt moaned.
The pressure smoothed from his hairline up his head, then down the back, swirling up the sides. And Wyatt couldn’t remember the last time anyone had washed him. It felt good in Raph’s arms, safe.
“You don’t have to,” he mumbled.
“I want to,” Raph said.
The shower started up again. Raph pressed the edge of his hand against Wyatt’s forehead, shielding Wyatt’s face as he rinsed his hair. Then he wet Wyatt’s body again, and Wyatt relaxed further, running his fingers along Raph’s thigh, savoring the hard muscles of his body.
Raph leaned him back against the wall. “Close your eyes. Gonna wash your face.”
Wyatt closed his eyes. Raph’s hands settled on his cheeks first, warm and firm, brushing down his nose, his mouth. His thumbs swept over Wyatt’s forehead, feathered over his eyes, and swirled across his lips, leaving them tingling.
“You’re so damn beautiful,” Raph whispered.
“I said that to you when I was eighteen.”
“Never thought I could say it back. But I’ve always liked how you look.” Raph kissed his soapy forehead. “But I’m gonna say it all the time now.”
“I’m not beautiful.”
Raph paused, his hands drifting to a stop along Wyatt’s jaw. “I don’t care what Grandma said, okay? And you shouldn’t care what that bastard said, either.”
But Wyatt remembered You should be happy that you’re with me. No one else would tolerate an omega like you. And he was still twisted, wasn’t he, having a baby with his stepbrother. No matter how often he tried to think Max was wrong, Max’s words always came back to haunt him, his cruel eyes glinting in Wyatt’s mind, his rough hands a phantom touch on Wyatt’s skin.
“Wy, no. Stop that.” Raph cradled his cheeks, his breath falling on Wyatt’s lips. Then his mouth pressed against Wyatt’s, insistent, his teeth nipping. “He’s not your damn alpha.”
“But I...” They still risked Hazel catching the public’s disgrace. She was too young for that. And Dad’s reputation, too. There were so many other people involved in this, not just the two of them. “If this gets out... I don’t want Dad to be embarrassed about us.”
Raph pressed their foreheads together, his knees on either side of Wyatt’s hips, his hands trailing down Wyatt’s neck. “We’ll have to talk to them at some point. Him and Mom.”
Through the years, Mom had yelled at them several times, Don’t get your brother into trouble! Play nice, you guys. You’re siblings now. She had made sure to give them presents of equal value, and if Wyatt was in the wrong, he wouldn’t get a lenient punishment just because he was her biological son.
Their parents had put so much emphasis on them being family, and family... did not have sex with each other.
Wyatt shuddered. The news would get out, somehow. Grandma would hear. He couldn’t bear to imagine his parents’ faces, especially when Grandma evicted them. She owned the Alpha Associates Bank. She could fire Raph any time.
“We shouldn’t be doing this,” Wyatt murmured. “I wish... I don’t know. That none of this happened.”
“Even me?”
He couldn’t regret Raph, or Hazel. “No, not you.”
And Raph tilted his head, kissing Wyatt full on the lips. “Then remember I’m your alpha. We’re bonded now.”
His fingers slipped down to the crook of Wyatt’s neck, where the two scars sat over the scent gland, each equally incriminating.
“I’m your alpha,” Raph murmured, “and I will protect you. Hazel, too, and our baby.”
Raph’s soapy hand fell lower, past Wyatt’s chest, to his belly. Then he brushed his knuckles over where the baby was, and kissed Wyatt on the lips. Wyatt’s heart staggered. Raph
accepted all of them, wanted them to be his family.
“Gods, I think I love you,” Wyatt whispered, his chest tight. “I don’t... don’t know what kind of love this is.”
“Does it matter?” Raph tipped Wyatt’s head back, kissed him hard, his tongue slipping into Wyatt’s mouth.
Wyatt groaned, his fingers scrabbling along Raph’s drenched thighs. He hadn’t the strength to do anything, but the kiss left him weak-limbed, even with the trace of bitter soap in his mouth.
“I fucking love you,” Raph whispered, scooping Wyatt up against himself, his thick thighs pressed against Wyatt’s hips, his breath falling on Wyatt’s mouth. Then he kissed Wyatt again, his tongue tangling with Wyatt’s, a hot, slick presence that Wyatt welcomed. He pulled Raph closer to himself, slipped into Raph’s mouth, and Raph groaned, parting his lips wider, letting Wyatt claim him.
The pregnancy had left him little energy, but Wyatt hung on, kissed Raph with everything he had. Because Raph was important to him. Had always been. And Raph needed to know that.
He lost track of how long they kissed. When they pulled away, the suds had dried from their skin, and maybe the air behind the shower curtain was warmer than before, more humid. Raph leaned back, his lips glistening, his eyes dark.
“You’re really my omega, then?” he whispered. “You accept me as your alpha?”
“We’re bonded anyway,” Wyatt said. “The mark proves it.”
“I’m asking if you want me as your alpha, Wy. Not what the bonding mark says.”
Wyatt’s throat tightened. Raph was handsome, smart, and so very kind. “You could’ve had anyone else.”
“I want you,” Raph whispered, his hands cradling Wyatt’s cheeks. “I want to know if you feel the same way.”
And something unfurled in Wyatt’s chest, light and freeing. “Yes,” he murmured. “I want to be your omega.”
Raph pressed a soft kiss to his lips, his shoulders relaxing. “Thank you.”
“I—I don’t understand. Why would you thank me?”
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