Through his waking hours, the uncertainty of not knowing had bothered him—had he gotten his stepbrother pregnant? Did Wyatt resent Raph for taking advantage of his heat? Should Raph contact him again?
Whatever he did, Raph hoped it wouldn’t fail Wyatt as badly as he’d done nine years ago.
When the cheerful yellow signboard of Wy’s Drive-In peeked over the birch trees, Raph breathed a sigh, pulling into the drive-in’s parking lot. He wanted to catch Wyatt by surprise, see what Wyatt looked like off-guard.
Can’t believe I didn’t realize his tat was his restaurant logo. Raph’s cheeks burned.
The signboard looked exactly like the one on Wyatt’s back—down to its rolling parchment and cursive letters. Except the thought of Wyatt’s back led to thoughts of his ass, its pale, soft curves, the way his cheeks had pressed against Raph’s palm. His pulse quickened.
Despite the possibility of Wyatt getting pregnant, Raph had jerked off thinking about him, more than a few times this week.
Grandma would say, Shame on you, putting your hands on your brother like that! Think of how disappointed your father will be, boy. He’ll disown the both of you!
In fact, she had said that, nine years ago. Only Raph had been around to hear it; Wyatt had fled from the piano room, and Raph had tried to tell her it was his own fault.
The tingling at his groin faded. Raph cut the engine, tipped his head back, and exhaled.
He shouldn’t be this torn up over Wyatt Fleming. Wyatt was family. When Dad had married Raph’s new mom, Wyatt had been three, and Penny, barely one. Take care of them both, Dad had said. Their father left, so we’re their family now. Treat Penny and Wyatt like your own siblings, okay?
It had gone well, too. Raph liked to think he’d been a great brother to them both, looking out for them at school, keeping the bullies away from Wyatt and Penny. He’d helped Wyatt with his homework, and Penny with her craft projects. Then Wyatt had turned fourteen, and his behavior around Raph had changed.
It wasn’t like Raph had turned him away. He’d still held hands when Wyatt wanted to. He’d accompanied Wyatt through his piano lessons. When he’d stayed up late to study for his exams, Wyatt had sneaked down to the kitchen to make him sandwiches.
When Wyatt turned seventeen, he’d started to sidle up to Raph. At eighteen, he’d taken to burying his face in Raph’s chest, his breath tickling Raph’s skin through his shirt. Raph had breathed in Wyatt’s scent, familiar and warm and good.
He’d never felt the same way about Penny, even though she was omega, too. Just Wyatt. Which had made it more confusing, because they were all supposed to be siblings.
Last week, Raph had discovered that Wyatt’s scent was more than good. It had smelled delicious. The sex had been mind-blowing, and Wyatt had pressed up close against him, trusting, even though they hadn’t spoken in years. Raph hadn’t shared that kind of intimacy with any other omega he’d slept with.
He sighed, pulling his key from the ignition. No sense in counting his regrets.
He was about to step out of the car when the front door of the diner crashed open. A girl flew out in roller skates, wearing elbow and shin guards, and an egg-yellow apron. She looked nine, maybe ten. Raph recognized her blond ponytail from the pictures on Facebook.
She skated up to the driver’s side window, notebook and pen in hand, and a bright smile on her face. Hazel, her name tag read. Wyatt’s daughter.
Wyatt had a daughter from someone else, other than Raph. Raph knew that. But it still made the possessive instincts in him growl. Wasn’t the kid’s fault, though, and it wasn’t Wy’s, either.
Wyatt wasn’t his. Could never be.
Raph cracked the car door open, waiting for her to move out of the way. With deft turns of her feet, Hazel skated backward, beaming when he climbed out of the car. “Would you prefer a seat inside? You were out here a while—I thought you wanted a drive-in meal.”
“I’m here to see Wy. Wyatt.” The girl looked like her omega father—Raph liked that. Didn’t take a genius to figure out why.
“Oh! Are you Uncle Raph?” Hazel studied him, tucking her notebook into her apron pocket. “Aunt Penny told Dad you were coming to visit.”
Penny, you loudmouth.
“You shouldn’t make assumptions about who I am, kid,” Raph said. But he couldn’t help smiling when she grinned and beckoned for him to follow. “Don’t trust people you don’t know!”
“Dad tells me that all the time,” Hazel said, glancing around the parking lot. There were a few parked cars with their windows rolled down and trays clipped on the doors—their occupants ate from bowls of hot soup, dark strands of vegetables a contrast against the pale noodles.
Hazel skated across the road, waiting for him to catch up.
“Your dad’s right,” Raph said. “I’m surprised he lets you work at the diner.”
“I’m just helping out.” She beamed, so damn innocent that Raph wanted to usher her back into the diner, and tell Wyatt to hire an actual waitress to tend to the patrons. “If I’m good, Dad lets me cook in the kitchen.”
“What?” Raph said. Seriously?
“Just eggs.” Hazel pouted. “But he’s been letting me help with the stewed pork.”
“Doesn’t seem appropriate for you to be working in a commercial kitchen,” Raph said as they reached the diner’s front doors.
“I’m learning for my future. Dad says it’s important to have a good one.” Hazel looked up at him with serious eyes, and part of Raph melted.
He was about to say, You’re a good kid, when Hazel pulled the door open, sucked in a deep breath, and hollered, “Dad!”
Not the entrance Raph had planned.
A handful of patrons looked over. Raph grimaced. “I
