Wyatt winced. “Max doesn’t deserve to be your dad, hon. As far as I’m concerned, Raph and I are your dads. I didn’t want you to imagine Max to be a great person, because he wasn’t. And I didn’t want you to think I love you any less, just because Max was your other biological father.”
She nodded slowly, still frowning. Wyatt wasn’t sure she understood it all, but as the adrenaline from the day faded, Hazel’s eyelids began to droop.
“Raph and I love you, Hazel. I think that’s the most important thing.”
“Love you too,” Hazel mumbled, yawning.
When she nodded off, Wyatt sagged into the car seat, tipping his head back. It probably wasn’t the end of the conversation. But they’d started it, and hopefully, Hazel would come to understand the decisions he’d made.
“You did great,” Raph said.
Wyatt chuckled. “I did?”
“Yeah. Hazel’s fine. You told her everything she needed to know.”
“I shouldn’t have gotten her riled up about the skating.” Wyatt groaned, rubbing his face. “But you’re right—it’s better if she stays inside the drive-in, so we can all keep an eye on her.”
“Maybe give her something safer to work on,” Raph said. “Like the accounting.”
“Ha! That girl hates math.”
“She’ll take over the business someday, won’t she?”
Wyatt paused with his mouth open. He hadn’t thought that far. At first, all he’d imagined was himself and Hazel, making a living through the drive-in. At some point, Hazel might enroll in college, and she might leave for the big cities. But Wyatt had a second child now, and he also had Raph.
And he and Raph had only just made up this morning.
He sagged into his seat, suddenly tired. “I don’t know. It’s been such a long day.”
“We still have to visit Mom.”
“I know.”
Raph looked tired, too. There were bruises starting to form on his face, from when Max had somehow punched him. The blood on his hands had dried, and there was an edge of weariness in his eyes.
Raph had skipped work, had accompanied Wyatt to talk to Dad, had beaten Max, and gotten rid of him permanently. He’d done all of that for Wyatt, and Wyatt realized he needn’t have doubted Raph at all. Raph might have a debt, and he might have kept his secrets. But he’d promised to move to Meadowfall, and be part of Wyatt’s family.
“I love you,” Wyatt said.
Raph slanted a look at him, the corners of his lips quirking up. “Yeah?”
“Yes.” Wyatt rested his hand on Raph’s thigh. Penny’s Mini Cooper was narrower than he was used to; there was barely a center console, and he could touch Raph without reaching far, let his nails scrape the rough fabric of Raph’s jeans. “I love you like I love no one else, Raph Fleming.”
“What about Hazel? And the baby?” Raph’s eyes gleamed.
“That’s a different sort of love.” Wyatt squeezed Raph’s thigh, leaning into his shoulder. “I’m just glad this all worked out. And that you’re not in jail.”
Gods, having Raph in jail would have been a terrible end to tonight. Wyatt pressed his nose to Raph’s bicep, breathing in teak and old sweat. “Are you staying with us tonight?”
Raph winced. “I’ll probably have to return to work tomorrow.”
And Grandma’s shadow hung over them, all over again. “I’ll ask around,” Wyatt said. “Maybe someone knows how I can get rid of debt.”
“Would be nice if we could use Grandma’s inheritance for it.” Raph smiled wryly.
“You did not just say that.”
“It’s not like you haven’t thought about it.”
Wyatt had. He blushed, looking away. In the back, Hazel had fallen asleep, her head tipped forward.
Raph rested his hand on Wyatt’s belly. And the baby kicked.
The grin that spread across Raph’s face was bright, like he’d been lit up from inside. “The baby kicked!”
“Sure did,” Wyatt said, cradling Raph’s hand in his own. “I kind of think it’ll be a boy.”
Raph glanced at him. “How’d you know?”
Wyatt shrugged. “I just do.”
“Girl or boy, or in-between, I’d love them anyway,” Raph said, stroking Wyatt’s fingers. “Both the baby and Hazel.”
Wyatt lifted Raph’s hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to broken skin. Then he pressed a kiss to Raph’s wrist, right over his scent gland, and Raph smiled.
The rest of the drive passed in companionable silence, until they pulled into Meadowfall, and up the winding driveway of Grandma’s mansion.
In the evening light, the mansion stood imposingly before them, its dark windows staring down, its lawns perfectly tended. Wyatt had never liked looking at the place—it reminded him too much of Grandma, and the way she forced everyone to bow to her will.
She might be home, this time of day. And Wyatt couldn’t find the strength in him to care, not right now.
In the backseat, Hazel stirred. “Where’re we going?” she mumbled.
“To your grandma’s place,” Wyatt said. “She wants to know if you’re fine.”
Hazel made a face. “Is Great-Grandma there? She’s a witch.”
“Don’t let her hear you say that. She might threaten you with her magic,” Wyatt said.
Hazel leaned forward. “Does she really have magic?”
Wyatt shuddered. “Gods, I hope not.”
“She better not,” Raph said. “She’s enough of a bitch.”
“Raph, language,” Wyatt said. “Not in front of Hazel.”
“I bet she was a scheming, poisonous hag when she was younger,” Hazel said. “Maybe she ate all the schoolkids’ bones.”
Wyatt laughed, and Raph smirked. They drove up the driveway with the silence a lot lighter, and parked at the base of the front steps.
The door flew open. Mom hurried out, her eyes bright. She waved. And stumbled forward, flailing on the topmost step. Wyatt held his breath. Don’t slip down the stairs!
Then Grandma stepped around Mom in her evening finery, all glittering gold rings, and Wyatt’s stomach sank. “She pushed Mom.”
“Bitch,” Raph said.
Wyatt didn’t have the energy to deal with this. He turned, handing Hazel a fresh bottle of water. “Drink up, hon, You’ve been dehydrated today.”
Hazel brightened, clicking off her seat belt.
On the front steps, Grandma beamed down at the car. Then she met Wyatt’s eyes, and her face twisted into a scowl.
Raph sighed. “I’ve
