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 beat too long, before she smiled again, turning them down the carpeted hallways to her viola room.

It occurred to him, suddenly, that maybe things weren’t as much of a secret as he’d thought they were. Not if his mom knew what to look out for. Like an omega’s honey scent. Like that new bonding mark on Wyatt’s neck. His stomach lurched.

It was only when Mom locked the door of the viola room, turning to him, that Raph breathed out, closing his eyes. This room was a safe space. “How much do you know?”

“Some. Enough to make guesses with.”

The viola room was half the size of his father’s study, with glass cases on each side, and a climate control device built into each case. Raph almost wanted to say, If you’d saved up your money to buy a house instead of your violas, you wouldn’t have to live under Grandma’s roof.

But who was he to judge?

Mom stopped by a cabinet in the middle, pulling a wood-framed door open. Within, a viola stood on its pedestal, its polish gleaming under the accent lighting. Raph remembered that instrument; he’d learned to play on it. Still remembered the pressure of metal strings on his fingertips.

“I started playing again,” Raph blurted, rubbing his fingers. “Wy and I have been practicing for the audition. We’ve got Hazel in for the vocals—she’s good at remembering melodies.”

Mom’s eyebrows rose. “I’ve never heard you talk about Wyatt. Not in recent years.”

Raph stared at the curled feet of the viola’s pedestal, his pulse skipping. “I guess I haven’t.”

“Is there something you’d like to tell me?”

He swallowed. When he glanced at her, her eyes were soft, patient, and Raph didn’t have the heart to bring her pain. So he asked, “What’s it like to be a mom? Or a parent.”

Tanya sighed, looking at the viola, too. “Difficult. It’s a blessing sometimes, watching your children grow. And sometimes it’s painful, when you know your babies are hurting, but you can’t take away their pain.”

“I’m sorry if I’ve hurt you,” he said.

She chuckled. “I’ll stop hurting when you do. There’s nothing to apologize for, Raph.”

“But...” He thought about Hazel, and the unborn baby in Wyatt’s belly. There was only moving forward with Wyatt, no going back—he’d already made his choice. “But what if the hurt doesn’t stop?”

Mom raised an eyebrow, her lips curving up. “My previous alpha left me with two young children. There’s very little that’ll hurt more than that.”

“Even if—” His heart thudded. She had to know about him and Wyatt somehow. She’d never mentioned Wyatt’s scent on him, even when Grandma had. And the truth felt like a rock on his tongue, heavy and jagged. Raph breathed out. Counted the strings on the viola. “I love Wyatt. Not in the way I should.”

Just like Wyatt had in front of Penny, Raph’s cheeks burned. He followed the curves of the pedestal’s foot. Then the other foot. Then he chanced a look at his mom, his heart scrabbling against his chest.

She smiled a bittersweet smile. “I thought you might.”

“That’s it?” He stared, thinking she might frown, or swear, or... something. Not shrug and glance at him.

“We love the people we love, Raph. I doubt you’d stop loving him just because I said you can’t.”

“Yeah, no. That won’t happen.” He chuckled mirthlessly, rubbing his neck. “You knew?”

“I had my suspicions,” Mom said. She spread her arms, inviting a hug. “You might not have noticed, but I’d seen the way Wyatt looked at you. Gods, that was a long time ago, wasn’t it?”

“It was.” The boulder on his shoulders eased a little. Raph stepped into her arms. Pulled her smaller body close, breathing in her chrysanthemum scent. This, at least, was easier than it had gone with Penny. “Sorry we never told you.”

“When’s he due?”

“February.”

“Another six months, then?” Mom sighed, leaning into him. “I would love to see the baby when it’s born,” she murmured. “Please don’t wait until it’s three years old, like Wyatt did with Hazel.”

Raph froze. “I thought he’d been living in Meadowfall this whole time.”

“He never wanted to see us.” Mom shrugged, her smile falling away, leaving behind wrinkles and a weariness that Raph wished he could erase. “We hardly glimpsed him in those years.”

How had Wyatt even managed, with a newborn and all his jobs? Or had he just been accumulating debts, and paying them off later? How long had Wyatt been hurting by himself?

“I should’ve been there for him,” Raph said. What kind of alpha had he been, hiding when Wyatt needed help? He felt sick then, disgusted with himself.

“You are now,” Mom said. “Don’t let that go to waste.”

“Yeah.” Raph pulled away from her, needing to return to his omega. “You don’t—don’t mind that we’re brothers?”

“I’ve had years to get used to the idea, Raph. This isn’t news to me.” Mom shrugged, the corners of her lips lifting up. “Besides, you may be my son, but you’re still not of my blood.”

He could’ve laughed, then. All that worrying, and Mom had known all along. “I don’t know what to do about Dad. I don’t think the townsfolk would be happy. I don’t... I can’t put my family through that crap.”

And my family sounded good, too. Wyatt was his family. So were Hazel and the baby. I’m really going to be a dad.

“I’m not sure what your dad will think.” Mom winced. “The news wouldn’t be good for him, no.”

The sinking feeling came back, nagging in his chest. “Are you going to tell him?”

“You should be the one.” Mom squeezed his shoulder. “It’s not my news to share.”

Raph sighed. “If Grandma hears, will she kick you and Dad out?”

Mom lifted her chin then, her eyes narrowing. “Your dad and I will manage. We’ve been around a while, Raph. Don’t worry about us.”

But the fact remained that they could put Dad’s reputation in peril. Grandma could destroy their lives. If Raph pursued this relationship... he would hurt their parents. If he didn’t pursue it, he would hurt Wyatt, and himself.

When Wyatt realized the toll their relationship would take, would he leave Raph, just like he’d hidden away for so many years?

Raph didn’t know. Mom had no answers for him, either. He swallowed, trying to push away the unease in his chest.

“Take care of him,” Mom said when he turned for the door, a crinkle on her forehead.

“I will,” Raph said.

He wanted to.