“Mom knows,” Raph said.
Penny jerked her gaze up. “She—she knows?”
“Yeah, I told her. She wasn’t surprised at all.”
“Oh.” Penny frowned, digesting the news. “Was I the only one who didn’t know?”
“No, Dad and Grandma still don’t know. I’d rather keep it that way,” Raph said. “Can you do that?”
She nodded quickly, a crease on her forehead. “Yeah. I promise not to tell.”
She looked so eager to please, right then, that Raph softened. Maybe he could trust her. Maybe she deserved a second chance, just like Wyatt did with his entire life. “Thanks.”
They fell into silence, watching as Hazel colored the crank on the well, then the flowers growing at its base. Around, cutlery clinked, and the murmur of conversation washed over them.
Penny squirmed. “Are you always here during the weekends?”
“Yeah. I head here from Highton—traffic’s pretty light coming in this direction.”
She nodded, her gaze sliding toward Hazel. Raph felt a little sorry for her; it wasn’t her fault that her brothers had hooked up. But she could’ve at least answered a damn text message.
He stood, thinking he’d drop by the kitchen for more water, maybe get Penny a glass of something to drink.
Just beyond the front doors of the diner, someone moved. Raph glanced over. He wouldn’t have spared the new patron a second look, except something about the man caught his attention. Sandy hair, ice-green eyes, broad shoulders.
He hadn’t seen that alpha in person before. But he remembered that face from the photos on Facebook, had glared and gritted his teeth at that bastard. Wyatt had his back turned, and Raph’s heart kicked. Don’t look over.
“Hazel,” he said. “Climb up on the seat for a sec, keep your head down. Tell me who that is.”
Penny turned, but the dividers obstructed her view. Hazel pulled her legs up, scooted carefully over Penny’s lap, and peered over the dividers. She gasped. “That’s Max. Dad says if I ever see him, I need to walk away like nothing happened.”
Violence snarled through Raph’s veins. “Good. Get back down and stay there.”
“But Dad—Uncle Raph, Dad will have a mood if he sees Max.”
Was this one of the moods Wyatt had stopped Hazel from talking about?
Max pushed the doors open, stepping in.
Raph’s heart pounded. He tucked his hands in his pockets and strolled toward the register, glancing between Wyatt and Max. He’d thought about it countless times before, what he’d do if he found Wyatt’s ex. Punch him, beat him up. Something equal to all the hurt Max had unleashed on Wyatt.
Raph slowed when he approached the register. Up close, Max looked like an ordinary alpha—average looks, clean shirt, fitting pants. Maybe five years older than Raph. Max should’ve known better than to abuse an eighteen-year-old.
Max looked around the diner. Caught sight of Wyatt, his lips twisting into a grin. “Ah,” he murmured, looking Wyatt over. “What a surprise.”
He had to have seen the bump of Wyatt’s belly behind his vest. Hot fury tore through Raph’s gut. Everyone else looking at Wyatt? That was fine. But this bastard? No. He deserved to have his eyeballs ripped out.
Raph pulled his hands from his pockets, so he could curl them into fists. Calm down. Don’t wreck the drive-in. Wy doesn’t need a lawsuit. From the corner of his eye, he watched as Wyatt turned away from his table, a smile on his lips.
His gaze caught on Max. And Wyatt froze, his smile growing brittle.
Raph wanted to go up to him, whisk him away from the diner. But what did Wyatt want? Did he have a plan for situations like this?
Wyatt’s eyes darted to the register, finding Raph. His chest heaved. His gaze held a hint of desperation.
Wyatt looked like he wanted to flee.
And Raph was striding toward him, the public be damned. Anyone could find out about their relationship. In that moment, Raph wouldn’t have cared. But if that bastard laid one finger on Wyatt, he was going to pay.
20
Wyatt
Wyatt couldn’t breathe. The sight of Max had sent a jolt of ice down his spine, and frozen all his limbs.
Why are you here now?
He’d been certain that Max had moved out of California. On Wyatt’s behalf, Sam checked Max’s Facebook profile regularly; Max’s statuses had been logged from Drakestown, Arizona, over the past seven years. It was the reason Wyatt had felt comfortable naming his diner after himself. Except Max was back in Meadowfall, and Wyatt wished he were somewhere across the world.
Nine years later, Max hadn’t changed much. There was gray in his hair, and wrinkles lined his skin. But his eyes were still cruel, and that smile—Wyatt’s stomach wrenched; his body still anticipated the blows that would hurt for days.
Max had seen him, like a predator sighting prey. His mouth pulled into a satisfied smile.
You know how worthless you are, Max had said once. Or should I remind you?
Nine years ago, Wyatt had bowed his head, thinking he needed punishment for trying to seduce Raph. And Max had whipped him, had yanked on his hair, slapped him until his face was swollen. Wyatt had cried, wishing it would stop, yet knowing he needed to suffer for how twisted he’d been.
Looking at Max now, in his diner, Wyatt couldn’t help the terrible dread that flooded through his veins, the urge to hide his face and cry. He’d glimpsed Max once, when he’d taken Hazel east on a road trip, and stopped by a grocery store. Wyatt had pulled Hazel into an aisle, shaking, pretending to dig through the clearance rack so no one would see the tears on his face.
Raph is here, his mind whispered. You will be okay.
But he couldn’t help the fear, the little bubble of panic that threatened to explode in his chest. Wyatt looked at Raph instead, trying to keep his smile on, trying to hold himself together so he could
