She pulled open the front passenger door, ignoring the door Raph had opened for her. “No.”
“Uncle Raph means well,” Wyatt said. “Won’t you give him a chance?”
Hazel turned, glaring. “He made you cry, Dad. Uncle Sam says anyone who makes you cry is bad.”
Well, she wasn’t wrong. Raph closed the back door, trying to meet her eyes. “You’re right. I’ve screwed up things with your dad. I’m trying to patch them up. Your dad’s giving me a chance to prove myself. Will you let me prove myself to you, too?”
Hazel huffed. “No.”
So much for Hazel letting him be her dad.
Raph sighed, breathing out his disappointment. This was fine. He’d try harder, and maybe things would turn out for the best.
He met Wyatt’s eyes in the rearview mirror; Wyatt grimaced. The awesome part about Hazel? She was opinionated. The not-so-awesome part? Also that she was opinionated.
Someday, the baby would grow up, and throw the same tantrums Hazel did. This was what being a dad felt like, wasn’t it? Letting his children sit out their tantrums. Teaching them to forgive, and be kind to others.
After being with Wyatt for the past few months, and seeing the way Wyatt taught Hazel, Raph thought he might be ready to be a dad. He was learning from Wyatt, and Hazel was turning out great.
Raph just had to be patient, and love them all.
They pulled out of the parking lot and onto the street. “Raph and I are going to visit Grandpa at the station,” Wyatt said. “There’ll be a lot of adult conversations, so I’ll be leaving you at the drive-in with Uncle Sam. Is that okay?”
“Fine.”
Raph spent the rest of the ride in silence, while Wyatt teased a conversation out of his daughter. From the backseat, he listened as they chatted about gross canteen food, strict teachers, and annoying classmates.
“Mrs. Mulberry is the worst,” Hazel said. “She looks ancient! I bet she’s been there ever since the school started.”
“Looks aren’t everything, hon,” Wyatt said, his eyes sparkling. “But I vaguely remember being taught by her.”
“She teaches science like it’s the dinosaur ages!” Hazel scrunched up her face. “She says stuff like ‘For sustenance, plants synthesize food to produce carbohydrates.’ It’s so boring!”
“But you remembered it, didn’t you?” Wyatt grinned. “Why do plants need food?”
“So they can live. And be food’s food.”
“Food’s food?” Raph asked.
Hazel folded her arms, looking away.
“She means the cows,” Wyatt’s eyes gleamed. “You need to eat your veggies too, hon.”
“I know, I know.”
They pulled up at the drive-in sometime later, by the back entrance. When Hazel opened her door, Raph caught a whiff of savory broth and grilled meat. Hazel rounded the hood, stopping by Wyatt’s door. Wyatt pulled her into a hug.
“Now, don’t skate out for orders today,” Wyatt said. “It’s Wednesday. We’ve got plenty of staff around to handle that.”
Hazel pouted. “But you’ve always let me take the Wednesday orders.”
“I shouldn’t be letting you work.” Wyatt glanced at Raph from the corner of his eye. Raph smiled—Wyatt was taking his concerns seriously.
Hazel followed Wyatt’s gaze. “Are you just saying that because of Uncle Raph?”
Wyatt paused, his mouth open. Raph slipped out of the car, and into Hazel’s seat. Hazel frowned at him.
“For your own good, princess,” Raph said. “Keep your dad out of trouble.”
“I never get into trouble.” Hazel kissed Wyatt’s cheek, then turned away, stomping through the back door.
They watched until she disappeared into the kitchen, before driving away.
Wyatt sighed. “I don’t know what to do, sometimes. How strict to be with her when she’s such a good child.”
Raph didn’t know, either. He’d seen Wyatt go through a near-meltdown. Hazel had seen worse, and she’d grown up differently because of that.
He saw Wyatt’s regret sometimes, when Wyatt looked at Hazel. The wistful, contemplative frown on Wyatt’s face, as though he wished he could’ve given Hazel a better childhood.
So Raph reached over, squeezing Wyatt’s hand. “You’re doing good with her.”
Wyatt cracked a smile. “How do you even judge that?”
“Hazel loves you. That counts.”
Wyatt breathed out. “I guess it does.”
They wove through the streets, passing through the downtown area, before the police station loomed up behind the town square. They pulled into a quieter parking lot at the back, where there were a few parked police bikes, and some nondescript cars. Raph spotted their dad’s Chevy in the corner; his pulse quickened.
He met Wyatt by the hood of his car, catching Wyatt’s hand. “Do I hang on to you?”
Wyatt thought for a moment, then shook his head. “People recognize us. Remember Uncle Ben? He’s still there. And Uncle Tom, too.”
In their younger days, Chief Fleming had brought Wyatt, Penny and Raph to the police station, and they’d met the policemen Dad called his friends. Right now, it would be best for them to talk to their father first, before revealing their secret to anyone else. Or maybe it would remain a secret by the end of today.
The station was busy when they stepped in. There was a queue at the receptionist’s desk, and people sat in plastic chairs, waiting to file their complaints at the counter. To the side, some policemen waited in the elevator lobby—alphas in navy uniforms with silver buttons. Wyatt’s eyes lingered on them, appreciative.
“See something you like?” Raph growled, something snarling in his chest.
Wyatt’s lips curved into a smile. “I like the uniforms. Why? Are you jealous?”
“No.”
But Wyatt smiled wider, his fingertips snagging on Raph’s wrist, smoothing over where he’d left his bonding mark. And maybe Raph didn’t need to be jealous, after all.
With the dregs of his memory guiding him, Raph turned toward the elevator lobby, stopping with Wyatt near the cluster of officers. The officers glanced over, gazes dropping to their chests—no identifying lanyards.
“The public service desk is over there,” one of the younger alphas said, pointing.
An alpha with graying curls snorted, his wrinkles deepening when he grinned. “Shush, cadet. You don’t tell Fleming’s kids to go to the public service desk.”
The cadet blinked, looking between the alpha, Raph,
