Naturally, breakfast dragged.

Wyatt had spied the violin case behind the coffee table. When he set the last of the rinsed dishes away, he stepped into the living room, and found Raph with the case open, his violin tucked between his chin and shoulder.

Wyatt stopped breathing.

Against the bright window, Raph cut a fine figure—all broad shoulders and strong jaw, his eyes downcast, his lips beautiful. He had looked younger a decade ago, in Grandma’s piano room, thinner, his bow darting across the strings. Now, he looked warier, more mature. He looked like an alpha Wyatt wanted in his family.

“I did a few chords last night,” Raph said. “When I picked it up at home.”

“Yeah?” Wyatt said.

“Not at my best right now. Will need practice.” Raph tested a few notes, and the violin’s mellow purr tingled down Wyatt’s spine.

“Will you teach me?” Hazel asked.

“Sure. After I get the hang of this.” Raph played Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, his bow sliding slow on the strings, his lips pursed in concentration.

“Do you still remember...” Wyatt’s heart pattered. “The songs we played?”

Raph glanced up, and met his eyes. And maybe the look they shared was timeless—it was the same way Raph had looked at him nine years ago on that piano bench, and then a month ago, when they’d first mated. “Yeah,” Raph said. “‘Course I do.”

“Will you play Songs About Us?” And why was his heart beating so fast, when they were just talking about a song?

Raph held his gaze. “I’ll need piano accompaniment.”

“I-I can do that.”

He’d played it on the piano sometimes, when Hazel asked about the CDs her grandpa hummed along to. He’d never thought Raph would be in his living room, never thought he’d hear Raph’s violin again.

“You’ll have to start,” Raph said. “I’ll join in.”

Hazel followed Wyatt to the piano, plopping herself on the edge of the bench. With trembling fingers, Wyatt set the metronome. Then he pressed his fingers to the cool white keys, and played.

The first few notes came hesitantly; Wyatt was only too aware that Raph was listening. But he knew the words to this song, knew the melody that would follow in the next few bars.

Wyatt glanced over his shoulder at Raph, and found Raph closer now, so close that Wyatt could reach out and touch him. Then he watched as Raph pressed his fingers to the violin strings, as though he was remembering the accompanying notes he could’ve played.

Between them, Hazel hummed, and Wyatt’s music soared, filling the living room.

Raph’s violin joined in a beat later, when Wyatt’s notes dipped low. The violin sang, and the piano rumbled, and the music harmonized like it had done years ago, back when they were younger and more innocent.

It sounded good. More than that. It raised the hairs on Wyatt’s arms, and even though Raph slipped on the timing and a couple of notes, he was brilliant. Sunlight caught on his darting bow. He leaned forward, matching his notes to Wyatt’s.

Wyatt poured everything he felt into the song, because I love you wasn’t enough to convey everything he felt for this man.

Then Raph fumbled, trailing off, and he grimaced. Pulled his bow away from the violin. “Sorry.”

Sorry? That was the last thing Wyatt needed from him. He stood, his throat tight, and padded over to Raph. “That was beautiful.”

“Nah, I could’ve done better.” Raph scratched his neck, his face red. “I’ll go back and practice—”

Wyatt caught Raph’s face in his hands, pulled him down, and kissed him hard. “You did great,” he whispered. “I’m proud of you.”

Raph chuckled lowly against his lips. “I’m an alpha. I don’t need you to be proud of me.”

“Proud of you anyway,” Wyatt said. “It doesn’t matter what you are.”

For a long moment, Raph stared at him. Then he settled into a smile, and leaned his forehead against Wyatt’s. “All right.”

“Are we going to play some more?” Hazel asked, wriggling on the piano bench. “The kissing thing is gross, but I’ll deal if you teach me how to play the violin.”

Raph laughed. “Let me get better first, and then I’ll teach you.”

Wyatt smiled, basking in the cheer of his family. Then his stomach roiled, squeezing. Gods, it would be a pain, dealing with morning sickness all over again. “Be right back,” he said, heading to the bathroom.

Raph frowned. Wyatt ducked into the en-suite in his bedroom, and folded himself over the toilet. Pity about breakfast.

A minute later, Raph was beside him, stroking his back. “Is this gonna happen all the time?”

Wyatt spat, then flushed the toilet. “I’ll get used to it.”

“Are you okay, Dad?” Hazel asked from the doorway. “Do you need to see the doctor?”

Raph winced, glancing at her. Wyatt figured Raph had tried to distract her from the puking—only it never worked with that child. She was sharp, more so because she’d learned to read Wyatt a long time ago.

And maybe there wasn’t any way to hide this from his daughter. Wyatt sighed, wiping his mouth. “I really am okay. Remember the book we read about babies? About how a baby takes nine months before it’s born?”

Hazel nodded slowly, still frowning.

“Well, a month into their pregnancy, omegas tend to feel tired and nauseous a lot. So they’ll be very sleepy, and they’ll want to vomit every so often.”

He waited a beat, so Hazel could digest that. Then she blinked. “Does that mean... you’re pregnant?”

“Yes, I’m pregnant. The vomiting will be normal for me for a while.”

Wyatt wasn’t sure how she’d react. They’d talked about babies and alphas and omegas after reading that book, but Wyatt had never really dated an alpha long-term, not enough for Hazel to get curious about babies.

“So I’ll get a brother or a sister?” Hazel asked, her gaze sliding to Wyatt’s flat belly.

“Yes,” Wyatt said, holding his abdomen. “You won’t see the bump until a couple months from now. Then, if everything goes well, there’ll be a baby next February.”

Hazel nodded, still staring, a thoughtful look on her face. “Is Uncle Raph the other dad?”

Wyatt glanced at Raph. Raph shrugged, so Wyatt said, “Yes.”

“What is it like to have two dads?”

At that, a tiny coil of guilt wound into Wyatt’s chest. Maybe that was why he’d wanted Raph to stay, too. Because Raph was terrific with her. Another dad means you’ll have an easier life. Someone else to turn to when I panic. Someone who won’t fail you like I do.

“Kind of like having Uncle Sam and Aunt Penny with us,” Wyatt said. “Or like Uncle Raph. Except they’ll be around all the time, instead of just visiting.”

“Okay.” Hazel chewed on her lip, thinking. Then she brightened. “If Uncle Raph isn’t teaching me the violin yet, then can I go play on the piano?”

“Of course.” Wyatt rinsed his mouth, dried his face. He reached for Hazel, pulling her into a hug. “Anything you want, hon.”

She grinned, then pulled away.

Wyatt leaned into Raph, watching as Hazel padded out of the room. Raph stroked his back. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah. Thanks.” Wyatt looked at his hands, glancing at the knife scars left from the kitchen, and the one silvery gash, from when Max had hit him far too hard, and he’d fallen against a broken fence. “Sometimes I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing with Hazel, you know. I was still a kid when I had her.”

Raph pulled Wyatt into his arms, nuzzling his temple. “You’ve done great, Wy. She’s great.”

Wyatt sighed. “There’s that. But sometimes I think I’m selfish for keeping her to myself. I had the option of giving her up for adoption.”

She would have gone to better parents, people who didn’t break down and cry in grocery stores. She wouldn’t have to put up with a rotating cast of babysitters, or do her homework in a noisy drive-in.

“No,” Raph said, his eyes flashing. “I’m glad you kept her. You’ve done your best with Hazel, Wy. I’m proud to call her my niece.”

“That’s nice of you to say.”

“I mean it.”

Wyatt chuckled. “And sometimes, I think you’re too kind.”

“I love you, Wy. Love your daughter, too.”

Wyatt’s heart skipped. He burrowed into Raph’s chest, holding on to him. So maybe he needed to hear that sometimes, needed to know he wasn’t quite so terrible. “Thank you.”

Raph kissed his forehead, then hugged him closer, like Wyatt meant everything to him. For a moment, he was quiet. “I’d have more babies with you, you know.”

“More than one?”

“Yeah.”

He thought about a house full of children, and Raph by his side, wrapping gifts for them all. And that image made his heart soar. Wyatt bit his lip, his pulse thudding. “I’d love that.”

“Me too.” Raph held him, his arms strong, his skin smelling like teak and magnolia.

He was Wyatt’s stepbrother. And somehow, standing here in his bathroom with Raph, everything in Wyatt’s life felt right.