For the first three days, Raph drank.

He drank to forget the distraught looks on his parents’ faces, the satisfied smirk his grandmother wore. He drank to forget Wyatt’s soft lips against his, the way he’d shoved Raph away, his eyes full of broken glass.

On the fourth day, he thumbed through the messages on his phone, reading the ones from Hazel over and over.

Dad’s in trouble, you gotta come help.

We’re at grandma’s place.

Dad’s crying.

Raph paused at the last text, closing his eyes. Gods, he’d been a shitty alpha. He’d neglected his omega, had been absent when Wyatt needed help. He’d probably lost his credibility with Hazel, too, not answering her messages like that.

Nine years ago, Raph had failed Wyatt. Now, he was doing it again.

He groaned and pulled his pillow over his face, willing his pounding headache to go away. How do I even fix this?

It wasn’t like working overtime had helped. Over the past month, Raph had driven himself to the ground, and barely put a dent in the loan.

The chauffeuring had gotten him an extra thousand. The consultation service on the side, another grand. They were all minuscule drops in the bucket—nothing against a $150k debt. Far better than the $600k he’d started out with, but still.

Six days a week, he’d woken early, stayed up late, driven to and from Meadowfall to pick his grandmother up, only to listen to her shit about omegas who were good for him. And that last ride... He’d been driving Grandma back when Hazel had texted. Raph hadn’t a chance to answer until he’d turned off the highway, and then it had been too late.

He missed Wyatt. Missed his easy smile, the warmth of his eyes. He missed touching Wyatt’s belly, feeling their baby kick against his palm.

“It’s not yours,” Raph muttered. “Stop acting it like it is.”

But he remembered Wyatt’s smile when Raph caressed his belly. Hazel had beamed when Raph made her mac and cheese. He’d been hoping to start a new life with Wyatt, build their family, meet the baby Wyatt carried.

For someone who hadn’t even wanted a kid... He wanted those two now, and he’d royally fucked up.

Raph dragged his finger across Wyatt’s Call button, squinting at his phone. He needed to get ready for work; he’d missed his other commitments three days in a row, and Grandma had gotten her original chauffeur back. There was no avoiding her at the office.

Before the breakup, work had been tolerable. Raph had trudged through each day, looking forward to Wyatt’s voicemails, and then the weekend visit. He’d play Wyatt’s voice messages on the drive to Meadowfall, and sit with Hazel at the drive-in, chat with her about school while he waited.

For the last three days, his phone had been silent. Raph hadn’t realized how much he’d anticipated hearing from his omega.

His omega? Wyatt wasn’t his, not anymore.

He groaned, rubbing the scent glands at his wrists. Wyatt had never marked him. And that was telling, wasn’t it? Wyatt had never wanted the relationship to last.

Raph swallowed, his throat tight. For as long as he carried his debt, he couldn’t return to his omega. Couldn’t possibly allow the debt to fall on Wyatt, and his parents. Wyatt didn’t need an extra thing to worry about.

His phone buzzed in his hand.

Heart leaping, Raph tapped on the message.

Hey, Raph, bud. You didn’t show up at the consult last night. Our client’s damn angry. Last night was the third strike. We’ve got to let you go. Sorry.

His stomach dropped. He read the message again, painfully aware that he’d been shitfaced last night. He’d bought a couple bottles of whiskey, and looked at old selfies of Wyatt and Hazel. That one photo of him braiding Hazel’s hair.

Funny thing was, he’d never been fired. Raph had hired and fired people—he handled the staff at his office. But being told he could fuck off? That was unusual. Shameful. He couldn’t even hold up a part-time job.

He pulled his pillow against himself, wishing it was Wyatt. Wishing he could bury his face in Wyatt’s chest, hold Wy for a while. How the hell was he paying off a hundred and fifty grand? By taking out another loan? Grandma had placed restrictions on his credit. He could only take loans at 50% interest, from shady back alley shops in the slums of Highton.

It was enough to make him consider drinking again.

If he could just hold Wyatt... if he could forget everything for a while... that would be nice. He wanted to touch Wyatt’s belly, see how he and the baby were doing. Wyatt might not even forgive him. Hell, he probably hated Raph now, because Raph had kept the true horror of the debt from him. But Raph needed to smell the magnolia of his skin, hug him, hold him close.

Raph wanted to feel like he had an omega again.

It was a Wednesday, and he was due to show up at work in thirty minutes.

If he showed up an hour late... If he showed up a day late... Grandma might throw a fit. And Raph found that he didn’t care, not anymore. He had pills for his hangover. He had a working car. Meadowfall was an hour away.

He swung his legs off the bed, excitement coiling in his gut. He didn’t deserve to see Wyatt again. But if he could hold Wyatt for a minute... it would be worth it.