Raph stacked the drink glasses together, gathered a handful of spoons, and set them on Mina’s tray. Then he leaned over the soup spills to grab the ceramic shards.
Warm fondness welled up in Wyatt’s chest. He stepped around Raph and Mina, swept up the shards and solid food remnants, and brought the dripping dustpan back into the kitchen. By the time he returned with paper towels and a mop, Raph was on his feet, surveying the floor.
Mina grimaced, looking apologetically at Raph. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to inconvenience you—”
“It’s fine,” Raph said. “It’s no big deal. You hurt?”
Mina shook her head, wincing when Wyatt stepped over. “I’m really sorry about this, Mr. Fleming,” she said. “I promise it won’t happen again.”
Wyatt remembered another time, when glittering shards of maroon glass had scattered across a dining room, and he’d cut his fingers trying to pick them up. Grandma had been there, her eyes bulging. Raph had held his hand and pulled him away, to go find his mom.
Useless child, Grandma had shouted down the hallways. You ruin everything you touch!
He blinked himself back to the diner, squeezing Mina’s shoulder. “Try not to let it happen again, Mina. I’ll clean the spills, but I’ll need you to get back to the tables. Can you do that?”
She flushed, nodding furiously. Wyatt watched as she hurried back to the kitchen with her tray, the tips of her ears red. When he turned, he found Raph watching him, a tiny smile on his lips.
“Something on my face? Wyatt asked, his heart missing a beat.
“You do good,” Raph said. “Need more help?”
Wyatt couldn’t help grinning, then. “No, I’ve got this—go clean up. Thanks for helping.”
Raph smiled and skirted the spill, heading for the washroom. Wyatt tried not to watch him leave. Instead, he mopped the mess from the floor, the memory of Raph picking up the dishes playing over and over in his mind.
Raph didn’t have to help. It wasn’t his restaurant. And maybe he was exactly the sort of alpha that Wyatt had subconsciously been looking for, after he’d left Max. Because he’d grown up with the best alpha there ever was, and no one could replace Raph.
He hid his smile, keeping his face down.
When the floor was mopped and Wyatt had placed a Wet Floor sign in the middle of the gleaming floorboards, he checked in on Mina again. She was shaken, but otherwise fine. Wyatt left her to the patrons, stopping by at the booth next to the kitchen.
“What do you do at the bank?” Hazel asked, her pencil poised above her homework, her eyes glued to Raph.
“I manage people,” Raph said. “It’s a mix of checking reports, approving them, making sure my branches are doing what they’re supposed to.”
Hazel blinked. “Say that in normal people English.”
Wyatt snorted. Raph turned incredulously. “This is your kid?”
“She very much is,” Wyatt said, leaning over to give her a quick hug. “Hazel’s brilliant, isn’t she?”
Raph pressed his lips together, but their corners curled into a smile. “She’s fine. Don’t want her head to grow too big.”
“You’re such a grumpy dog,” Wyatt said. Hazel was halfway through her homework, but it was clear she’d gotten distracted when Raph joined her. And Raph looked good, too. Wyatt had barely noticed earlier, but Raph was dressed in a crisp cotton shirt and dark jeans, his sleeves clinging to his biceps.
“He’s giving you the eyeball,” Hazel said, looking at Raph. “Maybe you did something wrong.”
Wyatt’s cheeks flared hot. “Hazel!”
She looked innocently at him. “You have that look in your eyes,” she said, pointing her pencil at him. “Like when you can’t decide if you want to bite someone’s head off.”
Raph coughed into his fist, but he was smirking. “Really? He bites heads off? This I gotta see.”
“You have so much to see.” Hazel leaned forward conspiratorially. “Dad sometimes has his moods.”
Wyatt froze. Surely she wasn’t telling Raph about the meltdowns. “Hazel.”
She glanced at him, and he shook his head slightly. Hazel pouted. “He needs to know about the Aunt Penny snowlady cookies,” she said. “You gave them to her and she said she didn’t look like two balls.”
Raph snorted.
“Oh. Well, fine,” Wyatt said, relief whispering through his shoulders. “But you need to do your homework, young lady, or there’ll be no Super Alpha for you tomorrow.”
Hazel pouted, looking back at her worksheets.
Raph was watching Wyatt, though, his gaze solemn, as though he’d caught Wyatt trying to keep his secrets.
“Moods, huh?” he murmured. Wyatt’s heart sank. “I’d help you get into a good mood.”
Well, that wasn’t appropriate, either. Wyatt frowned, pointing at the scatter of Hazel’s worksheets on the table. “Help Hazel, or there’ll be no dinner for you.”
“I can do my homework myself,” Hazel said. “Uncle Raph has his own homework.”
“I do.” Raph shook his phone. “I’ll help if Hazel needs it.”
“Fine.” But Wyatt was smiling when he stepped into the kitchen, more relaxed than he was before. Raph and Hazel seemed to get along. That was fine. It just meant he’d have a third babysitter for his daughter, and that was it.
Certainly it couldn’t mean that Hazel might get a second dad.
Wyatt’s heart fluttered. He’s my stepbrother, he told himself. Except he looked over his shoulder again, and Raph was watching Hazel, a soft look in his eyes.
Raph had promised to be around for Wyatt’s new baby.
Wyatt was okay with that. What wasn’t... was that he might fall in love with Raph. And in no universe would that ever be okay.
When Wyatt unlocked his apartment door that night, he found the living room lights turned off. Instead, a golden glow streamed from the kitchen doorway, lighting the couches. The space under Hazel’s bedroom door was dark; she was asleep.
Glass clinked, and something solid—a bottle?—thumped against the kitchen counter.
Quietly, Wyatt shut the door behind himself, locking it. Until now, he hadn’t glimpsed Raph alone—they’d met all of twice, and each
