“Then who will you do the sex thing with?”
“No one!”
Hazel blinked. “Will you be sad, then?”
How was she even coming up with these questions? “No, I won’t be sad,” Wyatt said. “It’s okay to not want to do the sex thing, too.”
“Oh.”
“Anyway.” Wyatt breathed out, listening to the silent phone. “I’ve got to be going. We’re running out of groceries. If you’re heading down today, give me a call. Miss you.”
He hit the End Call button, and spread his arms. Hazel leaped into his hug, grinning. “Are we going to the store now? Super Cocoa cereal is on sale. Can we get three boxes?”
“Sure. Let me get dressed first, and we’ll head out.” Wyatt rubbed her back fondly. How was it that his daughter was the one scanning the grocery store ads? That was something a parent should do. Hazel had learned how to cook, and compare food at the grocery store, and pick out sale items at good prices, and she wasn’t even ten yet.
Dr. Smith had looked oddly at him, back at the prenatal clinic. What does this say about me as a dad?
Hazel skipped out of the room. Wyatt looked down at his belly, and his empty hands. His phone stayed quiet—no calls from an absent alpha.
It wasn’t as though Wyatt was new to this. He could do things by himself. He’d done it before. He’d just thought... with Raph around, he wouldn’t be quite as lonely.
He pulled himself to his feet, and got dressed.
They were halfway through the store, the cart a quarter full, when Hazel grabbed his arm. Wyatt fumbled with his box of linguine. “Hazel!”
“We’ve gotta go, Dad,” she hissed, glancing over her shoulder. “Max is here.”
Max? Wyatt’s stomach swooped. “What?”
“Hurry! Don’t look.” Hazel grabbed Wyatt’s hands, setting them on the handle of the shopping cart. Then she stepped between Wyatt’s arms, pushing the cart down the pasta aisle. Wyatt followed awkwardly, trying not to step on her shoes. The boxes of angel hair, soup mixes, and canned tomato blurred.
Panic slithered through Wyatt’s nerves. Max couldn’t be here, could he? He didn’t live in Meadowfall. But he’d dropped by the drive-in the other day. He’d seen Wyatt.
Wyatt remembered the sharp sting of Max’s hand, his cool, sneering eyes.
Why bother to run? Max had asked. You’re too worthless for any other alpha. I’m the only person who tolerates crap like you.
His throat grew tight. He focused on the shine of Hazel’s hair, the lines of blond converging into her red hair tie. Don’t cry in the store. Max isn’t worth your time. Don’t let him get to you.
But what if Max was right, and Wyatt was worthless? Grandma had whispered You’re a sick little child countless times in Wyatt’s ears. Even after two decades, Wyatt still remembered.
Hazel turned them to the left, and glanced down the aisle. She froze. Then she shoved the cart forward, faster than before. “C’mon, Dad. We gotta go.”
From the corner of his eye, Wyatt glimpsed Max’s sandy hair. Maybe Max turned, but he couldn’t be sure. They stepped behind the end cap, the cart trundling across the linoleum floor. Wyatt’s heart pounded. He’s going to find us. He’s going to tell Hazel how much of a failure I am.
Two aisles later, Hazel stopped the cart. Wyatt crashed into her back. “Hon!”
She slipped out from between his arms, creeping to the edge of the end cap. Hazel peered past a shelf of bread. “He’s coming!”
Wyatt’s ears rang. Max couldn’t. He had to get Hazel out of here. But his hands shook, and his palms began to sweat. His heart hammered against his ribs. I need to be stronger. I can’t just break down here.
Hazel turned, grabbed his hands off the cart handle. “We’re going. C’mon, Dad!”
She yanked him back in the direction they’d come from, her grasp insistent. They stumbled past the refrigerated meat section, toward the black supply doors with their little plastic windows.
They barreled through the doors. Wyatt gasped, struggling to breathe. Pallets of cardboard boxes surrounded them. An industrial fan turned high up on a wall. Somewhere behind, Max was coming. He would hurt Wyatt, rip his dignity to shreds. And Hazel...
Wyatt wished he were strong enough to protect his daughter. Except he was so damn scared. His pulse thundered in his ears, and he could barely stand.
Hazel dragged him down a hallway, grabbed a plain door, and yanked it open. Then she pulled Wyatt through, shut the door, and locked it.
“We’re safe here,” she whispered. “It’s the employee bathroom.”
Wyatt sank into a crouch, buried his face in his hands, and shook.
Ten seconds passed, then twenty. Then the door handle rattled, loud in the silence.
Wyatt jumped. His palms sweated. Hazel met his gaze, her eyes wide.
If it was a regular store staff, that was fine. But if it was Max... Wyatt swallowed hard, unfurling shakily from his knees. He would put himself between Max and his daughter, if it came to that.
“Excuse me,” someone said outside the door. The voice was higher than Raph’s, oily, and it set the hair on Wyatt’s neck standing on end. Max.
Dad? Hazel mouthed.
Wyatt’s heart lodged in his throat. He shook his head, hugging himself as he straightened. I should be stronger than this. I shouldn’t let Max get to me. But he felt so weak right now, like anything he did against Max would be useless.
He stood between Hazel and the door, trembling, expecting pain.
The door handle rattled again, and then stopped.
For a long moment, they both stared at the door, Wyatt half-expecting it to break on its hinges. But it stayed intact, shut, and he heard no more voices from the outside.
Minutes passed. Wyatt didn’t know how long he stood, stock-still, his nails biting into his arms. Then, slowly, he curled back down, wrapping his arms around his knees. He shook harder than before.
Why is Max still in Meadowfall? Why can’t I be stronger?
He should be better than this. He should have taken Hazel away, walked out the doors
