He missed Wyatt. Missed his easy smile, the warmth of his eyes. He missed touching Wyatt’s belly, feeling their baby kick against his palm.
“It’s not yours,” Raph muttered. “Stop acting it like it is.”
But he remembered Wyatt’s smile when Raph caressed his belly. Hazel had beamed when Raph made her mac and cheese. He’d been hoping to start a new life with Wyatt, build their family, meet the baby Wyatt carried.
For someone who hadn’t even wanted a kid... He wanted those two now, and he’d royally fucked up.
Raph dragged his finger across Wyatt’s Call button, squinting at his phone. He needed to get ready for work; he’d missed his other commitments three days in a row, and Grandma had gotten her original chauffeur back. There was no avoiding her at the office.
Before the breakup, work had been tolerable. Raph had trudged through each day, looking forward to Wyatt’s voicemails, and then the weekend visit. He’d play Wyatt’s voice messages on the drive to Meadowfall, and sit with Hazel at the drive-in, chat with her about school while he waited.
For the last three days, his phone had been silent. Raph hadn’t realized how much he’d anticipated hearing from his omega.
His omega? Wyatt wasn’t his, not anymore.
He groaned, rubbing the scent glands at his wrists. Wyatt had never marked him. And that was telling, wasn’t it? Wyatt had never wanted the relationship to last.
Raph swallowed, his throat tight. For as long as he carried his debt, he couldn’t return to his omega. Couldn’t possibly allow the debt to fall on Wyatt, and his parents. Wyatt didn’t need an extra thing to worry about.
His phone buzzed in his hand.
Heart leaping, Raph tapped on the message.
Hey, Raph, bud. You didn’t show up at the consult last night. Our client’s damn angry. Last night was the third strike. We’ve got to let you go. Sorry.
His stomach dropped. He read the message again, painfully aware that he’d been shitfaced last night. He’d bought a couple bottles of whiskey, and looked at old selfies of Wyatt and Hazel. That one photo of him braiding Hazel’s hair.
Funny thing was, he’d never been fired. Raph had hired and fired people—he handled the staff at his office. But being told he could fuck off? That was unusual. Shameful. He couldn’t even hold up a part-time job.
He pulled his pillow against himself, wishing it was Wyatt. Wishing he could bury his face in Wyatt’s chest, hold Wy for a while. How the hell was he paying off a hundred and fifty grand? By taking out another loan? Grandma had placed restrictions on his credit. He could only take loans at 50% interest, from shady back alley shops in the slums of Highton.
It was enough to make him consider drinking again.
If he could just hold Wyatt... if he could forget everything for a while... that would be nice. He wanted to touch Wyatt’s belly, see how he and the baby were doing. Wyatt might not even forgive him. Hell, he probably hated Raph now, because Raph had kept the true horror of the debt from him. But Raph needed to smell the magnolia of his skin, hug him, hold him close.
Raph wanted to feel like he had an omega again.
It was a Wednesday, and he was due to show up at work in thirty minutes.
If he showed up an hour late... If he showed up a day late... Grandma might throw a fit. And Raph found that he didn’t care, not anymore. He had pills for his hangover. He had a working car. Meadowfall was an hour away.
He swung his legs off the bed, excitement coiling in his gut. He didn’t deserve to see Wyatt again. But if he could hold Wyatt for a minute... it would be worth it.
29
Wyatt
The doorbell rang.
Wyatt groaned, pulling the covers over his head. It was far too early; he’d just dropped Hazel off at school and returned to bed. He hadn’t even been asleep for an hour.
The bed smelled like magnolia and honey, and faintly like teak. Wyatt burrowed into the spot where Raph used to sleep, pressing his nose into the pillow. Everything was fine. Raph would be here soon, and they’d snuggle in bed, Raph spooning him, stroking his belly.
It wasn’t as though he’d broken up with Raph, or anything like that.
Wyatt whimpered, huddling into himself. He still regretted that. Regretted telling Raph that the baby wasn’t his. Of course it was Raph’s, but it would also chain Raph down, make him believe he needed to stay with Wyatt.
He’ll move on and find someone better for him.
It had only been four days. Wyatt still hadn’t gotten over him. Last night, Hazel had come into his room, frowning. I asked Uncle Raph why you and him broke up, she’d said. Wyatt had almost tripped over himself, trying to see what Raph’s reply was.
Except Raph had said, I think your dad will have a better answer, and the conversation had ended at that.
The doorbell rang again, twice this time.
Wyatt groaned. It couldn’t be Penny or Max, or even Hazel—all of them had keys to this place. And Raph was probably at work in Highton, an hour’s drive away.
What if it’s Max?
Wyatt stopped breathing. Max couldn’t have found him here. His address wasn’t publicly listed. Or was it a delivery of some sort, or...
The bell rang, and Wyatt slid out of bed, his limbs trembling. He was fully alert now, his veins coursing with adrenaline. If it was Max... he’d hide. Pretend he wasn’t home.
Silently, he tiptoed down the hallway to the front door, looking through the peephole.
The person behind the door was tanned, with sea-blue eyes and dark hair, his face so familiar that Wyatt would recognize him with his
