Chapter 17

17

A very laid a thin blanket over Wynter's shoulder before offering the tiny bundle.

Wynter choked back tears. "He's… beautiful, Avery." He glanced over at Cavanaugh, who wore an odd expression—and he immediately sensed his alpha imagining him holding Wilder all those years ago. How much he'd robbed Cavanaugh of. It broke him. Wynter fought another round of tears. He'd never be able to make it up.

Emory cooed, and Wynter refocused on the babe, his heart full—yet weighed down, all the same. He'd never truly understood the concept of bittersweet until that moment, or how far the spread of love and pain could sway.

"We'll see you all soon," Gray said before hugging Avery close and then squeezing Wilder's shoulder. "Let me know when you go to Blacksburg so I know to check in on Avery."

"I doubt we'll be gone more than a day," Wilder said. "At least, I won't. I have no desire to spend too long away from my omega and our babe."

Once Rohan and Gray departed, Avery stifled a yawn.

"Sorry," Avery said. "I'm a bit sleep deprived right now."

"Why don't you go take a little nap while you can? He won't need to nurse for a little while now," Wilder said. "I'll take care of him."

Avery looked hesitantly at the babe in Wynter's hands. Wynter stiffened. Of course, Avery didn't trust him. While it hurt, Wynter understood. He'd yet to prove himself.

"I'll hand him back to Wilder if that makes you more comfortable," Wynter said.

"No, it's not that," Avery assured him. "He's been at my side since we got home." He chuckled. "It shouldn't be that hard to walk upstairs and take a nap, but it's killing me to think about it."

"Says the omega who wasn't sure he wanted children," Wilder murmured with a grin.

"You didn't want children?" Wynter asked, a bit surprised.

Another of his terrible assumptions. He'd thought Avery a gold digger who'd lied about being an omega to get closer to alphas. Gods, I sound just like Papa.

"I didn't want to be a breeder. The idea that my sole duty in this world was to provide my alpha with a home and children made it hard to breathe. I wanted an opportunity to prove I could be more than that," Avery said. He turned to look at Wilder. "I wanted children… someday. After I'd had time to establish myself."

"I think you did more than that," Cavanaugh said. "And you opened the door for many, many more to follow behind you. I'm in awe of you, Avery."

Wynter eyed Cavanaugh. Memories of their conversation on the train whispered in his mind. He'd been so single-minded in his own sorrows. Avery had actually done something to make their world better.

"Emory's a lucky little boy to have you," Wynter said, fighting more emotion. "You've given him a chance for a different future." While there was no way to be sure yet, Wynter sensed Emory would grow to be an omega. As tiny as he was, there was little doubt. "I wish I had had the courage to do something even half as important for my children."

Emory barely burped, the sound low.

"Oh, I think you can do better than that," Wynter murmured to Emory, continuing to pat the little one's back. "We can't have you up all night with a bellyache."

"Oh, he can definitely do better than that." Avery smiled at Emory before his gaze whipped back to Wynter. "As far as the question of your courage, I had a papa who was fierce in his love of my brothers and I. A loving father who treated my papa as an equal and his omega children with kindness. They both taught us we could be more than this world saw us and to demand respect in every way we could." Avery eyed Wynter. "I didn't fully appreciate them for how amazing they were until it was too late."

"I'm sorry you lost them," Wynter said.

"Me, too." Avery smiled wryly, appearing to fight back his own emotions for a couple of seconds. "But I also know I had an advantage in this world. There are too many omegas who grow up in houses like yours. How can a man ever fly when his wings were damaged by those meant to help spread them wide?"

The backs of Wynter's eyes stung as he held Avery's tear-filled gaze.

"Emory's wings will be even wider than mine, I hope, though I don't have my parents here to help me ensure that happens." Avery smiled.

"I want to help you," Wynter whispered. He looked down at the sweet boy in his arms. "And help him fly." Yet he worried. The past cast such a long shadow over everything in his life. Would he ultimately fall back into bad habits and cause more pain than good? He couldn't allow that to happen. He needed to learn from his mistakes and move forward somehow.

"Wynter, I know it's not really my place," Avery murmured. "But you mentioned feeling better after your stay at the treatment facility, and how you'd hoped to continue that once you returned home. It's not too late for that. To seek help."

Wynter met Avery's gaze, his stomach knotting before he snapped. "You're right, that's not your place."

Avery's face fell, and Cav stiffened at his side. Wynter immediately regretted his words.

"I'm sorry," Wynter said, looking up at Avery and pleading for forgiveness. "It was a gut, defensive reaction, and you didn't deserve that." He paused, taking a slow breath. "And only makes your suggestion all the more accurate. You're right. I can't do this alone. I can't wipe away forty years of pain overnight. I need help. Professional help." He pressed a gentle kiss to Emory's head. "I don't want the past touching this sweet little boy. It's hurt enough people already."

"I've met some very interesting folks over the last year with the Omega Rights Movement. I might be able to make a few discreet inquiries and find someone well qualified who could help you," Avery said. "If you're interested."

"I would appreciate that," Wynter whispered before smiling softly at Avery. "Thank you."

"No problem." Avery rose from the couch, his hand still clutched in Wilder's. "You're not alone, Wynter. We can all help you move on past this, but a trained professional can take you so much farther. I want you to have a good relationship with your son and grandson. I'm rooting for you."

Wynter dabbed at the corners of his eyes, fighting the sob trying to rise up. "Please go take your nap before I end up a little puddle on the floor. I don't know how much more of this kindness I can take tonight." He smiled down at Emory. "I promise your boy is in good hands until you come back."

"I am his favorite," Wilder whispered to Avery. "He's going to spoil that little boy rotten."

"Oh no," Wynter said, gazing down at Emory. "You've been supplanted, my boy. I have a new favorite now."

Emory released a magnificent burp at the perfect moment, and they all barked with laughter.

"Then, I think I will sneak in an hour of rest," Avery said, yawning again. "Don't spoil him too much while I'm gone."

As soon as Avery climbed the stairs, Wilder eyed them. "I just realized… we'd eaten dinner before you two arrived and never offered you anything to eat. There's a casserole waiting for you in the fridge. I just need to pop it into the oven to warm."

"I'm not very hungry," Wynter said.

"We'd be delighted for a little dinner," Cavanaugh said, glaring at Wynter. "Your papa's barely eaten in days."

Wynter sighed, shaking his head. "You know, I can make decisions on my own." He chuckled to himself. "The little ones, at least."

"You need to eat. Even if it's only a few bites," Cavanaugh murmured. "When you start taking better care of yourself, I'll stop being a jerk."

Wynter eyed Cavanaugh, fighting a smile. He turned to his son. "A little bit, then."

"Can you watch Emory while I toss it into the oven?" Wilder asked.

"Of course," Wynter said. "Me and my little buddy will be fine right here."

"Be right back," Wilder said.

When they were finally alone, Wynter looked up at Cavanaugh, a soft smile on his lips. "Emory looks so much like Wilder did as a baby. Smaller, but the same. I'll have to dig through the old photo albums and find some to show you."

"I'd like that," Cavanaugh said.

"I'm sorry I kept that from you," Wynter whispered. "Him… watching him grow. Having moments like this."

Cavanaugh rubbed Wynter's shoulder. "I won't say it doesn't hurt like hell, but I understand why you thought you needed to do it."

He understood? "Does that mean you believe me?"

"I do."

Wynter looked up at his alpha, another wave of emotion threatening. He held the pain in so long that freeing it was leaving him raw. The walls he'd meticulously built had crumbled, leaving behind a sniveling, whimpering mess. If only his papa could see him. No way would he approve.

Fuck him. He didn't have to pretend to be something he wasn't anymore. He could cry and rage and be messy all he wanted. He could also be all the things he'd wanted to be.

He could love the alpha he'd always loved.

If it wasn't too late.

"I never stopped loving you. Through it all, there was only you."

Cavanaugh gently brushed some of Wynter's tears away. "I never stopped loving you, either."

"I'm glad you came," Wynter whispered. "Even though this hasn't been easy and I said otherwise—I'm glad the truth is out and I can start picking up the pieces of my life."

"I don't think it went as bad as you thought it would," Cav said.

"Vaughn's not pleased, but at least Wilder seems to be handling it well. Better than I anticipated, for sure."

"Vaughn might come around."

"You don't know Vaughn. I don't know that he will," Wynter said. "He's too much like me, I fear."

"I'm sorry about Jamie," Cav murmured. "I didn't realize he'd passed."

Wynter winced. "I guess I didn't mention that earlier, did I? There was so much to talk about… and it's still hard for me to discuss Jamie. I failed him, and it saddens me knowing I won't ever have a chance to be the papa he deserved."

"Like Gray said… you have a chance with his boys now. If you want it."

"I do. In a matter of days, I've gone from no grandchildren to five," Wynter said with a grin. "I guess that makes me really old now." He eyed Emory a moment. "Do you want to hold him?"

"I won't steal him from his grandpapa. You look too happy right now."

Wynter sensed hesitation. "You don't have to be afraid. I know he's tiny, but you'll be fine."

"I'm good. Really."

Wynter turned the corners of his mouth down. He yearned to see Cavanaugh holding Emory—so maybe he could witness what it might've been like had his alpha got the chance to do so with Wilder. How many times had he imagined it over the years? He'd dreamed they were a family in that little cabin, his boys loved by Cavanaugh instead of the hell he'd endured.

Cavanaugh frowned. "What's that face for?"

"Nothing," Wynter murmured, turning to watch Emory sleeping.

"I think we've had enough lies and secrets between us, Wynter. Tell me."

Cavanaugh was right. There had been. Without lifting his gaze from the babe, he murmured, "I never got to see you hold Wilder and never will. Emory's the next best thing, isn't he?"

Cavanaugh removed his arm from over Wynter's shoulder and held out both hands.

A hint of a smile played over Wynter's lips before he carefully handed their grandchild over. "Careful with his neck."

"I know. I've held him already and was reminded of the rules."

"Oh, then you're just a pro over here, hmm?" Wynter asked with a smirk.

Cavanaugh cradled their tiny grandson in his big, strong arms and smiled down at the sleeping babe. "He looks like Wilder, hmm?"

"It's been a while, but I'm almost certain he does," Wynter said. He leaned his head on Cavanaugh's shoulder and watched Emory. "Wilder was quiet, too. A sweet little boy."

"He turned into a fine young man," Cavanaugh said.

"I don't think I can take much credit there," Wynter said, toying with Emory's hand and allowing the infant to wrap his forefinger with five wee fingers.

"Of course you can," Cavanaugh said. "And the fact he's ready to jump to your protection from your vicious family says a lot. He cares about you. It's obvious."

Wynter smiled, but said nothing. He had a lot to make up for, yet, and something told him his son was looking for confirmation that his story was true. It was a wild tale and in Wilder's— or Cavanaugh's —shoes, he'd likely want to ensure it was actually true himself. He scarcely believed it sometimes and he'd lived through it.

Cavanaugh pressed a kiss to his head. He lifted his gaze to his alpha. "What convinced you that I was telling the truth?"

"It's bizarre, but the only thing I've heard so far that makes sense with what I know to be true. I looked back through my research and there wasn't a thing there to go against your account of things."

"Ah," he murmured. It hadn't been trust but confirmation.

"And my gut," Cavanaugh added. "I sensed it was the truth when you told me. Hearing you recount some of it again tonight—and being able to watch you from a different perspective in the retelling—it was the same. Not same as in rehearsed, but same as in a lived experience. I've interviewed countless people over the years while researching my books and I've always sensed when someone wasn't telling me the truth. I didn't feel that with you—though, I am a bit biased."

"You said I've lied to you before, but the only time I've ever lied to you was when you came to the gates. When I said I didn't love you and—hell, I don't even remember all I said that day. I was a total mess—and terrified. All I remember was I had to be cruel or you'd just keep coming back… and Papa would have his excuse to take you away forever."

Cav drew in a shaky breath and released it. "I sensed you lied that day. The minute the words came out of your mouth, I knew it couldn't be the truth. But coupled with the facts I knew, and assuming you'd faked your death to get away from me, I left with my tail between my legs. It was the biggest mistake I've ever made. I should've stayed. And fought for you."

Wynter fought the tears stinging his eyes and turned his attention back to Emory. "Do you ever think of the family we might've had if we'd had the chance to be together?" Wynter asked him.

"All the time," Cavanaugh said. "I always imagined we'd have a houseful."

"Me, too," Wynter murmured.

Cavanaugh chuckled. "I suppose that houseful can be grandbabies instead."

Wynter smiled to himself. A houseful of grandbabies was almost better. "Cavanaugh?"

"Yeah?"

"Was that offer of exploring the world together real?"

"Of course it was," Cavanaugh murmured. "I can show you all the amazing places I've been, especially those I'd wished you'd been at my side to see."

Wynter lifted his gaze and saw love in his alpha's eyes. "Just you and me? Together?"

"If you're okay with at."

"I am," Wynter said, his heart thumping madly at the thought of spending all that time with Cavanaugh. He smiled, resting his head back on his alpha's shoulder. "But I also don't know if I want to leave these little ones behind for very long. They grow up way too fast. We can't go far or for long."

"How about… short trips around the Palatinate for now. No more than a week. Then we can truly explore the globe once they're older."

"That sounds like a long time you've got in mind." Wynter peeked up a few seconds before he eyed Emory, again, almost fearful he was pushing for too much. "It sounds an awful lot like a future."

Cavanaugh tensed at his side. "Do you not want a future with me, my omega?"

Wynter lifted his gaze, eyes shining. "It's all I want, my alpha."

Cavanaugh captured Wynter's lips with a hungry kiss. Wynter returned the fervor, his blood rushing in his ears.

Emory whimpered ever so slightly, and they broke apart. The baby settled back in Cavanaugh's arms, blissfully asleep. They both giggled, a mixture of need and awkwardness filling the air around them.

Wynter returned to laying his head on Cav's shoulder, watching their grandson before noticing Wilder leaning in the doorway between the kitchen and the den, spying on them. A soft smile graced his son's lips, and he returned it, lifting his head. "So what's for dinner?"

Wilder chuckled. "I know you're used to your chef-made meals, but I fear I've only got a casserole our housekeeper made. It was delicious, but I don't know that it's up to your standards."

"If you thought it was delicious, I'm sure it's a feast fit for a king," Wynter said, smiling.

Wilder chuckled.

Wynter rose. "I'll set the table while your father spends some time with Emory." He paused, realizing he'd said father. While it was the truth, the two men were just meeting one another. It was unfair of him to force them close before they were ready. "I mean, Cavanaugh. Sorry." He stared between them, hoping the slip wouldn't cause them to struggle. "I know this is all new for you both. I didn't mean to…" He sighed, not sure where he'd been going with his comment.

Both Wilder and Cavanaugh were silent when he slipped into the kitchen. After searching the cabinets, Wynter found plates, utensils, and glasses. The kitchen filled with a lovely scent, and for the first time in days, his stomach actually clenched with hunger. He busied himself, trying not to move closer to the doorway and eavesdrop on the lowered voices coming from out there.

The buzzer went off on the stove. Wynter neared it, but realized he had no idea how the thing worked. He knew to open the door, but how to turn off the terrible buzzing or how to check for doneness, he had no idea.

Luckily, Wilder and Cavanaugh appeared.

"We're all ready at the kitchen table," Wynter said. "But I fear I don't know how to handle that contraption or if it's done."

Wilder chuckled, passing him and turning off the timer. He peeked in, using a gadget to test the temperature. "Dinner's done."

Once the table was set, Wilder took Emory from Cavanaugh. "I'll let you two enjoy your dinner."

"You could sit with us," Wynter murmured.

"I have some calls to make, and it's already getting late," Wilder said, resting Emory near his shoulder. "I want to get things in motion for the trip."

"You could do that tomorrow," Wynter said. "Couldn't you?"

"I won't live one more day that I have to, worrying if something might happen to either one of you. I want to know this is settled and over," Wilder said. He nodded to Cavanaugh before he left.

"Nervous?"

"I'd be a liar if I said I wasn't," Wynter said.

Cavanaugh scooped some of the meal onto Wynter's plate before taking one for his own. "You don't have to go. Wilder and I can handle this on our own."

"Then I'll sit here the whole time, worried you won't come back," Wynter said. While he'd felt a bit hungry, the sensation was already gone. His stomach had been in knots since before Wilder's mating ceremony. It had increasingly gotten worse. He pushed the food around on the plate.

"Eat. For me. Please," Cavanaugh said, his fork paused between plate and mouth. "Just a few bites so I know you've eaten something."

Wynter sighed and forced a bit between his lips. While he sensed it was good, his mind was spinning far too fast to actually taste it. He struggled to swallow and then bared his tongue to Cavanaugh as proof. "Happy?"

Cavanaugh chuckled to himself before eating the bite on his fork. "I suppose it will have to do."

"There's a good chance that they've already passed," Cavanaugh said. "All your fears might be for nothing. And then there are all those brothers you never got to see again."

"What if they've grown to be as bad as our parents?" Wynter asked. "I'm far too much like my papa than I like to admit, and I got away."

"But did you?"

Wynter met Cavanaugh's stare.

"You've been stuck there a long time, Wynter. Maybe not physically, but emotionally. While I still say you don't have to go—hopefully returning might be the first step in breaking the hold it has on you."

Wynter sat with that, silence falling around them. He ate a few more bites, but only to avoid Cavanaugh's glare. He forced each forkful down, hoping Cavanaugh was right and the trip would be beneficial, only he feared the worst.

The worst was all he knew. Getting hopes up never turned out well.

If he didn't end up breaking that hold, it might break him instead.

Wilder slipped into the kitchen, his phone in one hand, the babe in another. "Is the eldest of your younger brothers named Arthur Jaymes?"

Wynter turned to face Wilder. "Yes."

"I've got him on the phone. He doesn't believe I'm your son," Wilder murmured. "He claims Wynter Jaymes died nearly forty years ago."

Wynter frowned, eyeing the phone. He had no idea what to say to the man, but he reached for it with a shaking hand. Afraid he might drop it, he hit the speaker button and laid it on the table. "Hello," he asked, struggling to find his voice. "Arthur?"

"Look, I don't know what kind of sick joke this is, but I'm hanging up."

"Remember the O'Hare's picnic?" Wynter asked. "When we climbed the apple tree at the back of their orchard? Anders pushed you, and you fell and broke the tree—almost in half, and then both Anders and I fell, too, when the tree collapsed. Anders broke his arm."

Silence hung on the other end. Had it not been the crackle of the line, he would've been sure he'd been hung up on. "And what happened after that?"

Wynter closed his eyes, the pain of that day just as fresh as it had been when he'd been nine. While he'd already given both Wilder and Cav a peek into the abuse he'd suffered, he didn't feel like wading through more—but if it convinced his brother it was really him, then so be it. "I told Papa that I did it so you two wouldn't get in trouble. You tried to defend me when started Papa whipping me with that branch—and he ended up breaking your arm, too. He lied to everyone at the party and said we'd all gotten hurt falling from the tree. You and Anders had matching scars on opposite arms—a mirror image when facing one another, though they might've faded by now."

Silence.

"Wynter?"

Shivers raced down Wynter's spine, and the waterworks threatened to start again. He smiled when all he wanted to do was sob. "Yep. It's me."

The line went silent again for a good thirty seconds. Wynter wasn't sure what to say and clearly, his brother didn't either.

And then he heard what sounded like a sniffle.

"They told us you were dead. We had a funeral for you."

Wynter closed his eyes. He heard the emotion in his brother's voice. "How long ago?"

"Right after you disappeared," Arthur said. "What… you had just turned fourteen or fifteen?"

"Fourteen," Wynter replied.

Silence fell another few seconds. "Where have you been all this time?"

"Banished. Living in Alexandria. Papa said I could never come back," Wynter answered. "And I was scared of what he might do if I returned."

"Banished? Why the fuck did he banish you? You were just a kid."

"Honestly, I don't know if I have the mental capacity to rehash it all again tonight," Wynter said. "I'd kept my past hidden from my family—to protect them—but secrets have a way of catching up to us eventually. I've just told them everything—and now my son and alpha want to come to Blacksburg to…" He sobbed. "They want to see where I came from, I suppose."

"Returning to the scene of the crime." Arthur sighed. "When are you coming? We really should do this face-to-face. Not over the phone."

"I don't know how soon we're planning that," Wynter said, lifting his gaze to his son.

"I've got a helicopter reserved for first thing in the morning," Wilder replied.

"Tomorrow morning?" Wynter asked. "You work fast."

"I need to return to the office on Monday," Wilder said. "Might as well get this over with."

"Did you hear all that?" Wynter asked Arthur. "Tomorrow."

"I did. I can barely believe this," Arthur said. "I can't wait to see you again, Wynter. I know everyone else will want to be here, too. We've missed our big brother."

Wynter fought the sting at the backs of his eyes. "Everyone is well?" He didn't know how to ask the impolite question: are our parents dead?

"We're mostly good. We did lose Autumn about a decade ago."

"Oh no," Wynter murmured. There had been a decade age difference between Wynter and Autumn. Autumn had only been four the last time he'd been there. Not so much younger than Jamie.

"Uterine cancer. His alpha followed right behind him, too—though you never met his alpha, I suppose."

"Uterine cancer?" His gaze flipped to Wilder's. Wilder frowned. "My eldest son died from that a few years ago, as well."

"I'm sorry," Arthur murmured. "Autumn put up an incredible fight, but it was just too much for him in the end. I wish your boy hadn't had to suffer through that, too. It was a nightmare what Autumn had to go through, so I have some idea."

Wynter dabbed at his eyes. "Indeed."

"The rest of us are okay. Our parents? Not so much," Arthur said.

Wynter tried not to smile at the implication. While he knew he shouldn't wish ill on anyone, he didn't hate the idea they were suffering. Particularly their papa. Both men deserved to pay for what they'd done. He steeled his expression and his tone. "Oh?"

"I own the family home now. My omega and I take care of them here. Dad's physically okay, considering—but he has memory issues. He's more gone than he's here anymore. Papa…" Arthur sighed. "You know evil like that doesn't die easily."

Wynter clenched his jaw.

"He's been diagnosed with Schizophrenia. He's also got Dementia and had a stroke a few years ago, and it's left him bedridden."

"Memory problems. Isn't that nice for them. They can both forget the terrible things they did to us," Wynter muttered. "I hate that you now have to take care of them. It's not right."

"Well, I made a deal with them—not realizing it would get this bad in the end," Arthur said. "My stupidity. I was handed the bank and ownership of the house, as long as I promised they could grow old here in the family home. No senior homes. So, we do it all here. Twenty-four-hour nurses and care for them both. Where I try to raise my boys the best I can in the midst of it all."

"I'm sorry," Wynter whispered.

"It's not your fault. You protected me as long as you could."

"And I'm sure you had to bear the brunt once I was gone," Wynter said.

Arthur scoffed. "We survived. What about you? Are you okay?"

"Besides my eldest son, I just lost my mate. We had the funeral—yesterday?" He shook his head. "It's been such chaos… feels much longer than that right now."

"I'm sorry for your los— wait, didn't you just say your alpha was coming with you?" Arthur asked.

"My mate wasn't my alpha," Wynter said. "My alpha will be there with me. I can explain everything when I see you."

Arthur was quiet a moment. "I look forward to meeting your alpha and your son when you arrive." He sighed. "My gods, I have a million questions. I don't even know where to begin."

"It might be better to answer them when we're all together," Wynter said. "I'm sure you'll all want to know what happened and I'd prefer to tell you all at once, if possible."

"Okay," Arthur said. "It's getting late, and I should call everyone before they go to bed. I'll do everything in my power to get them all here. I can send a car to the helipad, if you need."

Wynter glanced at Wilder.

"That would be very kind of you, Arthur," Wilder said. "We should arrive around nine-thirty at Helipad-35."

"I'll send someone to pick you up in the morning," Arthur said. "I look forward to seeing you, Wynter. I really do."

"I look forward to seeing you all," Wynter said. Before the line went dead, Wynter yelled, "One last thing, Art?"

"What's that?"

"Are we meeting there? In that house? I don't know if I'm ready to face Papa and Daddy. I don't know that I can after all they did," Wynter said. "Maybe we can make plans for neutral territory? Considering how last minute this is, I don't want to put you and your family out, either."

Arthur didn't reply immediately. "You're not putting us out. You're family. If it helps any, Papa can't get out of bed on his own. I'll tell Dad's nurse to keep him upstairs. Will that be enough? If not, perhaps Anders can host."

"As long as I know I won't run into them, it's fine," Wynter said. "It's late, and I feel bad enough springing this on you at this hour."

"You're my brother, Wynter. You're not springing anything on me. I'm shocked, and my head is spinning, but hell… I can't wait for you to get here so I know this isn't a dream."

Wynter smiled. "I can't wait, either. I'll see you soon."

"See you tomorrow. Night, all," Arthur said before hanging up.

Wynter hit the button and held the phone to Wilder. His son looked at him with an odd expression.

"What's wrong?"

"Your papa beat you with a branch from an apple tree? And broke Arthur's arm? How old were you?"

"I was nine. Arthur and Anders were seven."

Wilder lowered into the seat beside Wynter. "And my other uncles are…?"

"Broderick and Harris. Broderick was three years younger than the twins and Harris was three years younger than Broderick, I believe. So, they're all between forty-five and fifty-one now. Autumn was ten years younger than me. He was the baby."

"And he had the same cancer as Jamie," Wilder said. "That's sad. And his alpha followed." He shook his head. "I was initially against Jamie's wild plan for Rohan and Gray—but maybe this proves how right he was for doing it. Rohan might not be with us today had he not."

"And those babies," Wynter murmured. "I couldn't believe he really wanted that either, considering his health. I was sure Rohan and/or Gray had pushed him into the decision." He cast a glance at Cavanaugh. "Yet I know all too well the extremes an omega will go to in order to protect their mate." He looked back at Wilder. "He loved Rohan more than he loved himself and gave his alpha a family to fill the gap left behind."

"I understand the bond and need to protect now that I have Avery," Wilder murmured. "I… I'd die for him. It would be an easy choice to make. The thought of him not living in this world could bring me to my knees." He glanced at Cavanaugh and back to Wynter. "I get you doing whatever you could to protect yours. If all you knew of your papa was violence… of course you assumed your alpha was in danger and do whatever you thought would save him."

Wynter nodded.

Emory made a cry, arching his back in Wilder's arms, his face red. Wilder cringed and sighed. "Oh, lovely. I hate diaper duty."

"I'll make you a deal," Wynter said. "You help Cavanaugh clean up and I'll handle diaper duty."

"Deal," Wilder said, jumping up to hand the infant over.

Wynter almost wished he hadn't when he got a whiff. "Oh, boy."

"The diaper bag's in the den," Wilder said with a grin. He cleared Wynter's plate and silverware. "Have fun."