“Fine,” he said.
They followed the nurse through the doorway, pausing so she could take Wyatt’s blood pressure and weight. Then she led them to the next room, knocking on the door.
Like it had years ago, Dr. Smith’s office smelled like hay—she was a beta. Raph held the door open, and stepped in after Wyatt.
With graying blond hair and wrinkles around her eyes, Dr. Smith was old enough to have met a number of Meadowfall townsfolk—not in the least, their father. Nine years ago, Wyatt had asked her to keep silent about his visits, when Chief Fleming had started search attempts to track his son down.
Seemed like every time he met her, he was in some kind of trouble.
“Hello, Wyatt,” Dr. Smith said, extending her hand. Wyatt shook it. She glanced at Raph next, and recognition flickered in her eyes. Wyatt held his breath. The doctor didn’t speak to Raph. Instead, she smiled kindly at Wyatt. “How is Hazel?”
“She’s doing well, thank you. She’s nine now, and she loves coloring and cooking.”
“Cooking? That’s advanced for a nine-year-old.”
Wyatt suppressed his wince. Maybe he shouldn’t have mentioned that. Most nine-year-olds didn’t know how to cook. “I’ve been supervising her in the kitchen.”
“Hazel’s great,” Raph said. “Very intelligent. Wyatt’s taught her well.”
Dr. Smith held out her hand. “I believe you’re Raphael? I’ve seen you around in Meadowfall.”
So she knew they were brothers, then. Wyatt tried to keep smiling.
“How is Chief Fleming doing? I’ve seen a couple of his interviews on TV.”
“He’s doing great. I think he’s been busy at the station.” Wyatt took one of the seats by the doctor’s desk, avoiding Raph. Maybe Raph coming along was a bad idea. Maybe Raph should leave.
Raph settled into the next seat, tucking his thumbs in his pockets.
“That’s fantastic. Now, I’ll need you to tell me about your pregnancy.” Dr. Smith clicked through the tabs on her computer. “Do you remember when you conceived?”
Wyatt didn’t remember it offhand. He froze, wishing he’d written it down. “It was a weekend in May. Um. I know I’m at twenty weeks.”
“The second weekend,” Raph said.
Relief and despair twisted through Wyatt’s gut. Raph, shut up. “The Saturday of that week,” he said. “I didn’t.... think you remembered.”
Dr. Smith clicked on her calendar, then glanced between them.
Wyatt’s cheeks burned. Raph shrugged. “You told me some time back.”
And Wyatt realized that Raph was right. That if they acted as though they were ordinary brothers, maybe they’d leave with Smith none the wiser. He breathed in deep, then breathed out. Things will be okay.
Behind the desk, Raph caught Wyatt’s hand, holding on to him.
The next few questions went smoothly. Wyatt told the doctor about his diet, exercise, and work, and declined a refresher course on pregnancy.
“Very good,” Dr. Smith said. “We’ll save the bloodwork for last. Now, I’ll need you to lie on the exam bed, Wyatt. Would you prefer if Mr. Fleming stayed with you?”
They exchanged a glance. Raph’s expression was keen, hopeful, and Wyatt... didn’t have the heart to send him away. “Yes, I’d prefer if Raph could stay.”
Dr. Smith locked the door, settling at the computer next to the exam bed. As she tapped on the keyboard, Wyatt made himself comfortable, pulling his shirt up over his belly. Raph’s gaze roved over him, dark, appreciative. And Wyatt knew that, despite hiding the debt from him, Raph still cared.
Smith dimmed the lights, hooking her stethoscope to her ears. “I’ll be listening to the fetal heartbeat first.”
The end of the stethoscope pressed cool against Wyatt’s belly. He held his breath, hoping his own heartbeat didn’t betray him. The doctor set the stethoscope a little lower, and listened again.
“Heartbeat normal for Week 20,” she said, tapping into the computer. “Now, I’ll be starting the ultrasound.”
They were silent as she pulled a tube from the warmer, uncapping it. Clear gel oozed onto Wyatt’s abdomen, wet and warm. Then the doctor pressed the ultrasound wand to the gel, and watched the screen.
It was familiar, doing this again. Back when Wyatt had carried Hazel, he’d visited the clinic, alone, scared, without an alpha. Now... Raph was here. They weren’t holding hands, but Wyatt felt the warm touch of Raph’s gaze on his skin.
Raph stepped closer, his eyes on the screen. “Is that the baby?”
“It is.” Dr. Smith tapped on some keys, so the mess of specks on the screen magnified. “The fetus is this shape over here. At twenty weeks, it’s about ten inches in total length, but curled up into six.”
Six inches was a little smaller than his hand. Wyatt glimpsed Raph looking at his own fingers, then at Wyatt’s belly, wonder on his face.
Gods, I love him.
Dr. Smith moved the wand, taking screen captures of their baby from different angles. “Would you like to know the baby’s sex?”
It didn’t matter, either way. Wyatt glanced at Raph, who shrugged. “No, we’ll wait until birth to find out.”
“All right.”
When the doctor was done, she turned to Wyatt, smiling warmly. “It looks like you’re carrying a healthy fetus. Would you like to hold the wand and see for yourself?”
“Yes, please.” Wyatt took the wand gingerly. He hadn’t dared the previous time, when he’d done Hazel’s ultrasound. With Raph around, he felt braver.
The image on the screen moved when he adjusted the wand. Dr. Smith zoomed out when he changed the angle, then zoomed in again, so they could see the curled shape of their baby. It was tiny, and amazing, and Wyatt was still awed by the life he carried.
“Can I...” Raph paused, his hand half-raised. Wyatt looked at him. So did the doctor. Raph’s throat worked, his cheeks darkening.
And as fond of him as Wyatt was, he didn’t know what he could say. Can my brother look at our baby, too?
The silence stretched between them. Dr. Smith raised her eyebrows. “Sure,” she said after a pause. “If Wyatt agrees.”
“Yeah,” Wyatt said. “Go ahead.” His joints felt wooden
