So Wyatt had hidden himself away from his parents, sending them cards so they wouldn’t try to search him out. Then he’d worked part-time jobs while Sam and Penny babysat Hazel, borrowing money, moving from room to rented room when his landlords grew tired of a baby’s cries.
Mom had tried to coax him home when Hazel was one. When she was three, Wyatt had finally yielded, and Grandma had been there his very first visit. She’d curled her lip and looked down her nose at them, and Wyatt had resolved never to let Grandma hurt his daughter.
“I didn’t want to ruin Dad’s reputation,” Wyatt said. “No one will question a three-year-old, but everyone will want to know about a single dad and an infant.”
Raph hugged him tight, his teak scent enveloping Wyatt. “Gods, I should’ve been there. I won’t abandon you.”
Wyatt leaned into him, knowing that Raph would never hurt him, not like Max had.
It had been almost ten years. Wyatt still remembered those cold green eyes, so light that their pupils were pinpricks against their irises.
At eighteen, Wyatt had met Max at a bar downtown, and moved in with him. He hadn’t known better then, not when Max had shoved him around, told him to cook, to clean the floors with rags. Wyatt had stayed only two months. But in those months, Max had grabbed him by the hair, slapped him, told him he was worth nothing.
After Grandma’s fury, and with the disgust he felt at himself, Wyatt hadn’t thought he deserved better. Still didn’t. Especially not when he would cause his parents shame, maybe cause their lives to come apart. He’d broken his and Raph’s relationship with Penny, and he was keeping the baby, even if it meant Hazel might be caught in the backlash.
He was a terrible person, and maybe Grandma had been right all along.
Raph cupped his cheeks, tipping his face up to kiss him again.
“What if you slapped me?” Wyatt asked, Raph’s breath falling on his lips.
“What?”
“Slap me.”
Raph stared. “Are you serious?”
Raph’s eyes were blue-gray in the lamplight. He watched Wyatt uncertainly, as though he wasn’t sure he’d heard right. And maybe he was the exact kind of person Wyatt needed. Not someone who truly wanted to hurt him, but someone who would try just because Wyatt asked.
“I never feel worthy, Raph,” he said, looking at the worn couches, the color pencil marks on the coffee table. “I think I need some kind of punishment. For all the things I’ve done.”
Raph glared. “You don’t need punishment.”
Wyatt sighed. “That’s what my brain tells me. My heart still wants it.”
“You know I can’t hit you.”
“Which means you’re the person I’m looking for,” Wyatt said. His smile probably came out lopsided. “Will you think about it?”
Raph looked at him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. “I don’t know what it does for you,” he said at length. “But I’ll think about it.”
“Thank you.”
Raph sighed, nodding at the carrier Wyatt was still holding. “The ice cream’s probably melting.”
“Oh! Damn it.”
Wyatt glanced down at the plastic bag, his mouth watering. He’d left the drive-in at 9 PM, like he’d promised Raph. Then he’d gotten an insatiable craving for sardines on mint ice cream, that he’d only forgotten because Raph had dropped the bombshell on him—Mom knew about them, and the pregnancy.
He shoved that thought aside, making his way to the kitchen. “I can’t believe I’ve never tried this before.”
“Sardines on ice cream?” Raph made a face. “Are we back to gross food?”
“We’ve eaten worse in the past,” Wyatt said. “Remember the time Mom brought home fig preserves and tuna? And I mixed them up with condensed milk.”
“Gods, Wyatt. You ate that? I thought you threw it away!”
“No, I ate it. You can’t know what something tastes like unless you try it.” Wyatt grinned, setting the bag on the kitchen counter. Raph grimaced, caught him by the waist, and pulled him close.
“I’m not kissing you if you taste like ice cream and sardines,” Raph murmured against his lips.
Wyatt grinned, tilting his head so their mouths meshed sweetly together. Raph’s tongue tangled with his, soft and damp. In that moment, Wyatt thought about Raph, and only him. And Raph brushed his wrist along Wyatt’s neck, marking Wyatt with his own scent. Wyatt’s heart skipped. Raph wants me.
“What if I taste only like ice cream?” he whispered.
“That’s fine.” Raph kissed him again. “But don’t throw sardines in there, eat them, and then kiss me.”
Wyatt chuckled, easing away from his alpha. In the warm August evening, the ice cream had softened. He scooped some into a bowl, popping a spoonful of sweet, minty ice cream into his mouth. “Mm. This is good.”
“Yeah?” Raph poured himself a shot of wine—one of the bottles of port that Wyatt had opened months ago, but hadn’t a chance to drink.
When he returned to Wyatt’s side, Wyatt slid his hands into Raph’s hair, pulling him close.
“You’re only after the wine,” Raph murmured against his lips.
“Just tasting.” He slipped into Raph’s mouth, finding traces of mellow port between his lip and teeth. Then he explored deeper, licking at Raph’s tongue, trying to find the elusive hints of liquor.
Raph growled, pushing past Wyatt’s lips. And Wyatt sucked the fruity, tart notes off his tongue.
“Best way to taste wine,” Wyatt said. “Short of drinking it myself.”
Raph chuckled. When he pulled away from Wyatt, he nodded at the melting ice cream. “You’re gonna eat sardines with that? Seriously?”
“When do I ever kid?”
Raph grinned. Wyatt popped the lid of the tin, peeling it back.
Inside, the fillets were packed in olive oil, their dark skins glistening under the kitchen lamp. Wyatt picked a fillet out, pushed it into his bowl of ice cream, and mashed the fish up. His stomach squeezed; he’d been waiting for this all day. “Gods, this looks so good.”
“The next time you say I look good, remind me that I share the honor with mashed sardines and ice cream.”
Wyatt laughed. “I’ll eat you too. Just saying.”
Raph rolled his eyes. “Hopefully not at the same time.”
“Can you imagine? If I set tasteful dollops of fish and ice cream on your chest, and ate it off?”
“Sick bastard.” But Raph grinned, and Wyatt popped the lumpy mixture into his mouth. Raph winced. “How is it?”
Wyatt chewed, rolling the oozing cream over his tongue. “The fillets are salty, but paired with the fruitiness of the olive oil, it complements the sweetness of the ice cream. And whereas the ice cream oozes, the fillets flake off—the mouth-feel is great. All it’s missing is a bit of crunch. I should’ve added some chips in here. 9 out of 10.”
Raph rolled his eyes. “That’s the sort of bullshit they say on the cooking shows.”
“Those are respected judges, okay.” Wyatt grinned, picked up the sardine tin, and drizzled some oil into his bowl. Then he scooped the mixture into his spoon, and extended it to Raph. “Want some?”
Raph gave the mint-green glob a disgusted stare. “Hell, no.”
Wyatt popped it into his own mouth, purring. It really did taste good. Raph was missing out.
Instead of commenting on the ice cream, Raph stepped over to Wyatt’s back, sliding his arms around Wyatt’s hips. Then he rested his palm against Wyatt’s belly, where there was a baby bump, now.
“I’ve missed you all week.” Raph murmured in his ear. “How’s the baby?”
“Good.” Wyatt snuggled into his chest. “I can’t believe it’s been almost twelve weeks.”
Raph peeled up Wyatt’s shirt to expose his belly. Then he ran his wrist over Wyatt’s skin, marking their baby, too. Wyatt’s face warmed.
Sometimes, it felt surreal, carrying Raph’s baby. It felt as though the heavens would strike
him down, or the patrons at the drive-in would stare. But no one did.
As he leaned into Raph’s embrace, Wyatt thought that maybe... all of this was too good to last.
19
Raph
Hazel colored the leaves on the calendar, her lips pursed in concentration. Across the booth, Raph leaned back. “Your dad ever told you what he thinks of me?”
She paused in her coloring, glancing up. “He said you’re too nice.”
Raph snorted. “I’m too nice?”
She nodded. “Yeah. Kind of like Uncle Sam and Aunt Penny. Where’s Aunt Penny? I haven’t seen her in ages. She said she’d make me a cheesy toast.”
Two months had passed since Raph told his mom the news. They’d missed the charity audition; neither Wyatt nor Raph had heard from Penny, and Raph didn’t want to put Wyatt in front of the cameras. Not with his belly growing ever bigger, and no alpha to publicly claim him.
The Friday night drive-in crowd was always loud. Raph craned his neck, looking up over the polished lattice dividers. On the other side of the diner, Wyatt took orders at a table, while his waitresses skated out with full trays of food. Mina had grown more confident in her time here, and the drive-in ran smoothly.
Raph was proud of his omega, happy that the restaurant could run itself with minimal help from Wyatt. In the near future, Wyatt would be busy with their baby; these were all good signs.
Except Raph still hadn’t made the decision to move back to Meadowfall. He would have to, when the baby was born. And that involved the rest of their family finding out. He swallowed his unease, focusing on his bondmate instead.
Wyatt strode across the restaurant, tapping food orders into a screen. Then he turned, caught Raph’s eye, and headed over.
Raph’s heart quickened; he hadn’t seen Wyatt for five whole days. Video calls and texts only went so far.
Under the warm lighting, Wyatt looked radiant. His cheeks were flushed, his golden hair gleamed, and there was a noticeable bump behind his black vest. At twenty weeks, Wyatt could no longer hide the pregnancy from his staff.
Wyatt paused next to their table, smiling down at Raph, then Hazel. Raph almost reached out for him. He shouldn’t; there were people here who recognized them both.
So he held his hand down, admiring Wyatt in his starched white shirt and fitting pants, the way his lips pulled into a smile.
“How’s your day going?” Wyatt asked.
“I’m almost done with the April page!” Hazel said, bouncing in her seat. “I skipped ahead because this page has a well. Isn’t it pretty?”
“It looks great!” Wyatt ruffled her hair and grinned. “Have you done your homework?”
“I did English and Math.” Hazel smiled sheepishly. “I promise I’ll do the rest tomorrow.”
“Sounds good,” Wyatt said. “What about you, Raph?”
“I’m here. Doing better now.” He meant Better with you around. Over the months, they’d learned to read between the words they said in public.
Wyatt smiled, his eyes filling with delight. “Just two more hours, and I’ll be ready to leave.”
“Good,” Raph said. He had plans for them tonight, after they’d gotten Hazel to sleep. Wyatt’s fatigue had worn off two months ago; he’d resumed his regular hours at the drive-in. But on the weekends, he left at 9, and spent time with Raph and Hazel. Raph appreciated it—Wyatt kept later hours than he did, and they hardly had time for calls during the weekdays.
Tonight, he had plans to tuck them both in bed, and snuggle in front of the TV. Maybe share some ice cream, and maybe there’d be a massage involved. Maybe he’d cradle Wyatt close, and fuck him good and hard. Wyatt loved that.
“Um, sorry,” someone said behind Wyatt. The voice was familiar.
When they looked up, they found Penny, a grimace on her face. “Sorry,” she said again. “I’ve been busy.”
Wyatt blinked. His expression was the look of someone who could be hurt, and hurt easily. And a surge of protectiveness roared through Raph’s chest. If Penny hurt him, Raph would get even.
“I wasn’t expecting you,” Wyatt said.
“Aunt Penny!” Hazel beamed. “I haven’t seen you in ages!”
Penny winced, her fingers curling into her purse. “Things came up in the lab. I’m sorry. It’s been hectic on my end.”
“We haven’t seen you for four months,” Raph said, narrowing his eyes. Sure, she might’ve been upset. But he’d tried leaving her messages, and so had Wyatt. In the end, they’d both given up. “You could’ve called.”
“I...” Penny breathed in and sighed, pushing her glasses up her nose. The drive-in wasn’t the best place for a discussion, not with townsfolk chatting and staff bustling around. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have stalked off that day.”
“Good that you realize it,” Raph said. Penny flinched.
“Raph.” Wyatt frowned. “Be nice.”
“And forget how hurt you’ve been?” Raph glared. “I understand this isn’t your cup of tea, Pen. But Wyatt’s made his choice. Respect him for that.”
Penny gulped, meeting his eyes. “Yeah. That’s what I dropped by for. I’m really sorry about that day.”
“What day?” Hazel asked, glancing between all of them, her eyes wide.
“The day I was supposed to stay for breakfast,” Penny said, cringing.
“Don’t forget the cheesy toast.” Hazel wagged her color pencil. “You owe me a cheesy toast. With chocolate sprinkles and icing sugar!”
Wyatt eased into a smile. Raph sighed. The kid really was great, diffusing situations without even meaning to. He’d had to take courses on managing people, and here Hazel was, a natural at it.
“I promise,” Penny said. She reached out toward Wyatt, before pausing. “I’m really sorry, Wy. I’d meant to drop by sooner, but I had to deal with my own doubts first. I’ve been thinking about it. In the end... it’s really your choice. I’d thought that maybe Raph felt the same way about me; we’re both omega. I was kind of creeped out.”
“Huh.” Raph hadn’t considered it from that angle. It would’ve been awkward if the situations were reversed, and Penny had a crush on him. So maybe he could understand why she’d reacted the way she did, and maybe he could forgive her for taking off. “No, it’s never been you.”
“Well, good.” Penny cracked a smile. “Either way, I’m really sorry about things. And for losing touch.”
Raph glanced at Wyatt. Wyatt had relaxed through Penny’s speech; he had always been soft with people, and he was the better person of them both. He looked like he’d already forgiven Penny for her absence.
Penny glanced between them. “I’ll leave if you want me to.”
“No,” Wyatt said. He reached out, pulling Penny into a hug. “Thanks for coming back, sis. I missed you.”
She hugged Wyatt. Over his shoulder, Penny met Raph’s eyes, smiling with some trepidation.
“You’re good,” he said, shrugging. “Just don’t pull that again.”
Relief darted through her face. “Thank you. I really am sorry.”
“Have a seat,” Wyatt said, perking up. “I’ll get you drinks.”
“I’ll ask Sam myself. It’s fine.” Penny smiled. Hazel scooted over to make space for her, and she settled into the booth across from Raph, her cheeks pink.
“I’ve got to return to the tables,” Wyatt said, squeezing Raph’s shoulder. “Be back later.”
“Sure,” Raph said.
Wyatt hurried back to his customers. Raph watched until his blond hair disappeared behind the polished lattice dividers. And Penny watched Raph.
“Can I have two cheesy toasts?” Hazel asked Penny. “I miss the ones you make. Dad makes them too, but they taste different.”
You little bugger. Raph snorted. All you care about is your dad, and food.
Penny pulled Hazel into a hug. “I could drop by sometime soon—we’ll see what your dad says, okay?”
“Okay.” Hazel hummed, colo
ring the roof of her stone well.
Raph didn’t know what he had to say to his sister; so many months had passed since they’d last talked, and so many things had happened. Penny looked down at the table, fiddling with her purse.
“Mom knows,” Raph said.
Penny jerked her gaze up. “She—she knows?”
“Yeah, I told her. She wasn’t surprised at all.”
“Oh.” Penny frowned, digesting the news. “Was I the only one who didn’t know?”
“No, Dad and Grandma still don’t know. I’d rather keep it that way,” Raph said. “Can you do that?”
She nodded quickly, a crease on her forehead. “Yeah. I promise not to tell.”
She looked so eager to please, right then, that Raph softened. Maybe he could trust her. Maybe she deserved a second chance, just like Wyatt did with his entire life. “Thanks.”
They fell into silence, watching as Hazel colored the crank on the well, then the flowers growing at its base. Around, cutlery clinked, and the murmur of conversation washed over them.
Penny squirmed. “Are you always here during the weekends?”
“Yeah. I head here from Highton—traffic’s pretty light coming in this direction.”
She nodded, her gaze sliding toward Hazel. Raph felt a little sorry for her; it wasn’t her fault that her brothers had hooked up. But she could’ve at least answered a damn text message.
He stood, thinking he’d drop by the kitchen for more water, maybe get Penny a glass of something to drink.
Just beyond the front doors of the diner, someone moved. Raph glanced over. He wouldn’t have spared the new patron a second look, except something about the man caught his attention. Sandy hair, ice-green eyes, broad shoulders.
He hadn’t seen that alpha in person before. But he remembered that face from the photos on Facebook, had glared and gritted his teeth at that bastard. Wyatt had his back turned, and Raph’s heart kicked. Don’t look over.
“Hazel,” he said. “Climb up on the seat for a sec, keep your head down. Tell me who that is.”
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