His throat grew tight. He focused on the shine of Hazel’s hair, the lines of blond converging into her red hair tie. Don’t cry in the store. Max isn’t worth your time. Don’t let him get to you.
But what if Max was right, and Wyatt was worthless? Grandma had whispered You’re a sick little child countless times in Wyatt’s ears. Even after two decades, Wyatt still remembered.
Hazel turned them to the left, and glanced down the aisle. She froze. Then she shoved the cart forward, faster than before. “C’mon, Dad. We gotta go.”
From the corner of his eye, Wyatt glimpsed Max’s sandy hair. Maybe Max turned, but he couldn’t be sure. They stepped behind the end cap, the cart trundling across the linoleum floor. Wyatt’s heart pounded. He’s going to find us. He’s going to tell Hazel how much of a failure I am.
Two aisles later, Hazel stopped the cart. Wyatt crashed into her back. “Hon!”
She slipped out from between his arms, creeping to the edge of the end cap. Hazel peered past a shelf of bread. “He’s coming!”
Wyatt’s ears rang. Max couldn’t. He had to get Hazel out of here. But his hands shook, and his palms began to sweat. His heart hammered against his ribs. I need to be stronger. I can’t just break down here.
Hazel turned, grabbed his hands off the cart handle. “We’re going. C’mon, Dad!”
She yanked him back in the direction they’d come from, her grasp insistent. They stumbled past the refrigerated meat section, toward the black supply doors with their little plastic windows.
They barreled through the doors. Wyatt gasped, struggling to breathe. Pallets of cardboard boxes surrounded them. An industrial fan turned high up on a wall. Somewhere behind, Max was coming. He would hurt Wyatt, rip his dignity to shreds. And Hazel...
Wyatt wished he were strong enough to protect his daughter. Except he was so damn scared. His pulse thundered in his ears, and he could barely stand.
Hazel dragged him down a hallway, grabbed a plain door, and yanked it open. Then she pulled Wyatt through, shut the door, and locked it.
“We’re safe here,” she whispered. “It’s the employee bathroom.”
Wyatt sank into a crouch, buried his face in his hands, and shook.
Ten seconds passed, then twenty. Then the door handle rattled, loud in the silence.
Wyatt jumped. His palms sweated. Hazel met his gaze, her eyes wide.
If it was a regular store staff, that was fine. But if it was Max... Wyatt swallowed hard, unfurling shakily from his knees. He would put himself between Max and his daughter, if it came to that.
“Excuse me,” someone said outside the door. The voice was higher than Raph’s, oily, and it set the hair on Wyatt’s neck standing on end. Max.
Dad? Hazel mouthed.
Wyatt’s heart lodged in his throat. He shook his head, hugging himself as he straightened. I should be stronger than this. I shouldn’t let Max get to me. But he felt so weak right now, like anything he did against Max would be useless.
He stood between Hazel and the door, trembling, expecting pain.
The door handle rattled again, and then stopped.
For a long moment, they both stared at the door, Wyatt half-expecting it to break on its hinges. But it stayed intact, shut, and he heard no more voices from the outside.
Minutes passed. Wyatt didn’t know how long he stood, stock-still, his nails biting into his arms. Then, slowly, he curled back down, wrapping his arms around his knees. He shook harder than before.
Why is Max still in Meadowfall? Why can’t I be stronger?
He should be better than this. He should have taken Hazel away, walked out the doors with his head held high. Except right then, all he could think about was Max’s rough hands on him, and the pain, the humiliation, the injuries he had carried for days after.
He couldn’t even care for himself. Hazel had to guide him to safety. What kind of omega was he, failing as a father? Why would Raph want him, when Wyatt was this broken? To think he’d snapped at Raph because of the secret debt—Wyatt didn’t deserve someone like Raph at all.
He kept silent, tears tracking itchy paths down his face. Hazel was quiet. Outside, a forklift beeped.
Hazel set one hand on his shoulder, crouching next to him. “Are you okay now?” she whispered.
He shook his head. “Not—not yet.”
“Okay.” She pulled her phone out. “Should I text Uncle Raph?”
Wyatt’s stomach flipped. What would Raph say, if he saw Wyatt like this? Wyatt wasn’t functioning right now. If Raph knew how messed-up Wyatt was... he’d probably leave.
He blinked hard, his chest squeezing tight. He was a father. He had to be strong for Hazel, and the new baby.
With a great effort, Wyatt pushed himself to his feet. He wobbled, then leaned against the whitewashed wall. “I... I can’t drive home right now. Could you text Sam?”
Hazel frowned. “Uncle Raph says I should text him before I text Uncle Sam for help.”
“Why?”
“Because he wants to marry you, and he also wants to be my dad.”
Wyatt bit his lip hard, his throat closing. I didn’t know you told her that. He swallowed, tried to speak, and swallowed again. “Text them both, I guess. Say ‘Dad needs your help right now.’”
Hazel tapped on her phone. “I told them where we are.”
Moments later, her phone buzzed. Wyatt’s heart leaped.
“Uncle Sam replied,” Hazel said. “He’ll be here in ten minutes.”
“Raph?” Wyatt croaked, his heart sinking.
“He didn’t answer.”
Raph had promised to be around for Wyatt. But he was gone, far away and uncontactable, like Wyatt didn’t mean anything to him.
Wyatt closed his eyes, holding the swell of his belly. “That’s—that’s fine. We’ll wait for Sam.”
Hazel stepped up, hugging him from the side. Wyatt pulled her close, and focused on breathing. Things would be okay. Maybe Raph was just busy, and he’d be back at some point. Hopefully sooner than later.
26
Wyatt
Sam knocked on the door some minutes later. Wyatt jumped.
