Raph
Penny stopped talking to Raph for two entire months. At first, Raph had thought he’d let her calm down, see if he could convince her that his relationship with Wyatt wouldn’t send them both to hell.
Then she’d stopped attending dinner with their parents, and Mom and Dad had begun asking Raph questions, whether she’d had a falling-out with him and Wyatt. She hadn’t been showing up at Wyatt’s dinners, either.
At the third dinner, when there were just his parents and Grandma at the table, Raph squirmed.
“I’m concerned about all of you,” Dad said, his blue eyes piercing. Raph didn’t know how much of his own discomfort showed. “Penny was so excited about the auditions—but it’s been months, and she says she hasn’t practiced with either of you. What’s going on, Raph?”
She found out about me and Wyatt. Wrong answer. Not with Grandma sitting at the head of the table, her shrewd eyes pinning Raph, her knife and fork poised above her steak, as though she’d cut into him like she did the beef.
“Penny’s busy,” he said. “I’m not sure about Wyatt.”
Which was an outright lie, and maybe Grandma had sniffed him out anyway. Hazel had sworn that the pharmacy’s scent suppressant took Wyatt’s scent off his skin.
“That’s a pity. I wish we were all together, for once,” Dad said, his eyes dulling. “I’d wanted to see you kids put on a performance, invite all the neighbors to come watch.”
Chief Fleming might have been in control at the police station, but in this moment, his shoulders sagged, and the wrinkles around his mouth deepened. He was broad-shouldered like Raph, with a bit of belly betraying his age.
Two decades ago, Raph had compared report cards with Wyatt, excited to show them to Dad at the end of his school semester. Dad would grin, ruffle his hair, and say, That’s my son. That was all Raph had wanted—for his dad to be proud of him.
With how he’d bonded with Wyatt, though... Raph had realized that he could no longer aspire to rank as high as his dad did. And maybe when Dad found out, Raph would bear the brunt of his disappointment. Some son I am.
And yet he wouldn’t give up on Wyatt, not for anything.
“We might all get together at some point,” Raph said. Dad perked up.
Grandma looked sharply at Raph, rubbing her chest. “We’ll do better without that boy around,” she said, her lips curled in disdain. “Seeing him here gives me some mighty pains.”
“He’s our son, Elizabeth,” Mom said, her lips thinning. “He has done no wrong.”
Grandma narrowed her eyes. Raph remembered the piano room, all over again. In a low, scratchy voice, Grandma said, “I have a weak heart, Tanya. Do you wish me to die?”
“No, no, of course not,” Mom hurried to say, grimacing. “I did not mean anything like that. Stan and I appreciate all you’ve done for us.”
But deep down, Raph wondered how many of them wished Grandma would die. Maybe of a heart attack, maybe of old age. If she were gone, Wyatt wouldn’t balk at visiting Mom and Dad so much. Dad would lose the years on his face, and Mom would smile more.
“Have you found an omega yet, son?” Dad asked, peering at him. “You’re getting on in years. I thought I’d see you settle down.”
“I’ve been looking,” Raph said.
Mom’s eyes lit up, as though she were glad for the change in topic. “Really? You’ve refused to commit for a while.”
Because I’ve never found anyone like Wyatt. Raph shrugged. “I thought I’d be more selective.”
“If you’d like to bring an omega home for dinner, you’re very welcome to,” Mom said, smiling warmly. “I know you’re all busy with your lives, but having the right mate makes everything so much better—you’ll have someone to rely on, and share your joys and sorrows with.”
I know that, Mom.
She looked at him, her expression accepting. And Raph wanted to tell her, at least.
Whereas his dad had always been busy with work, looking out for the rest of the town, Mom had tried to spend time with her children. Raph had been wary of her at first, when she’d married his dad; Grandma had been feeding him stories about cruel stepmothers, and wicked witches and crying children.
But Tanya Fleming had taught Raph to dance, had looked out for Raph the same way she did for her own biological kids. She had patched Raph’s injuries when he fell, or speak up for him when he got into trouble with Grandma.
Years ago, while Dad had been busy at the police station, Mom had brought Raph and his new siblings to the zoo, the park, the basketball arena.
Then they’d get home, and Dad would ask each of them about their days—sometimes he’d ask Raph first, and sometimes he’d ask Penny first. Or sometimes he’d ask Wyatt to play the piano for them, and Wyatt would perk up, smiling even with Grandma’s presence.
At seven, Raph had been slightly resentful when Dad spent hours at a time with Wyatt and Penny. Over the years, he’d grown to respect his father for the decisions he’d made. Mom and Dad had built a family from two fractured halves.
With his relationship with Wyatt, Raph was afraid that he’d break them apart, all over again.
Dinner crawled by. Raph skirted the conversations that touched on his life, instead asking about Dad’s interviews, and Grandma’s plans for the garden. When the plates for the last course were cleared, Raph breathed a sigh.
“Mom, could you show me your violas?” he asked, trying to smile. “I’ve been thinking of switching away from my violin.”
“Of course,” she said, beaming.
Raph grinned at Dad, kissed Grandma on the cheek. When he stepped out of the dining room, out of Grandma’s sight, he allowed himself to relax.
Mom looked over her shoulder at him, her smile fading. “You’ve been bothered by something.”
He huffed, amused. “You can tell?”
“I’ve watched you grow up, Raph. You, Penny, and Wyatt.” And Mom held his gaze for a
