Chapter 20

20

C avanaugh led Wynter outside onto the porch where the family had gathered. It was a warm late spring day and the sky the perfect shade of blue. Hazy, cotton candy clouds hung in the air. The house was set on a hill overlooking the city below and was situated far enough back that it felt almost as if they were out in the country. A wide lawn spread out until it reached the treeline on either side. Just down the street, there had been houses clustered together tightly, but the Jaymes' had clearly had the land for some time and cut a massive swath out for themselves.

While it grated his nerves a bit that Wynter's parents had so much yet had given so little to their children, he was reminded of what his omega had said to him. He'd been happier with the son of a Wildling than with one of means.

Yet, knowing how Wynter lived, a moment of doubt crept into his mind. His bank accounts weren't nothing to sniff at—he spent only what was needed and lived well under his means—it still wasn't the kind of money the Jaymes family, either side of it, had.

The family were all smiles when they reappeared on the wide porch. It easily fit the dozen or so bodies waiting there and then some. Couches, rockers, and chairs were arranged—with a settee in the center ready and waiting for them to join. Ceiling fans ran lazily overhead as a servant refilled glasses of lemonade.

A few of the younger boys played ball on the lawn just yards from the house.

"I hope you don't mind sitting out here," Arthur said as they found their seat. "It's quieter."

"I think I prefer it," Wynter replied, smiling. He paused to take a lemonade from the servant. "I always loved sitting out here. On starry nights, the sky was spectacular."

Cavanaugh took a lemonade and thanked the beta offering it.

"Still is." Arthur smiled.

Wynter returned the smile. "It's one of the memories of this place that still makes me smile. Us sneaking out on summer nights and rocking out here under those stars."

"We sit out here a lot," Georgie said, perched on the arm of Arthur's chair. "We can't hear you-know-who as much. That's why we have all this seating. It's practically our family room half of the year."

"I think I recognize that accent," Cavanaugh murmured to Georgie. "The Valley of Murfre?"

Georgie gasped. "Why, yes. How could you tell?"

"I've traveled a lot and met a ton of people," Cavanaugh murmured. "I haven't been to that province in a long, long time, though. It was gorgeous, from what I saw."

"I don't know if I'd call it a province. It's more a bunch of fields filled with cows and sheep. They outnumber the humans there. And the walls? Practically nonexistent," Georgie replied.

"Well, the valley itself keeps it rather protected," Cavanaugh said.

"True." Georgie drained his lemonade and paused as the servant tried to refill it. He smiled up at the beta. "You can go on inside. Our arms aren't broken. We can pour a glass."

Cavanaugh watched as the servant smiled softly and nodded.

"I'll go see how lunch is going and check back in a little bit," the beta said before lowering the pitcher of lemonade onto a small table near the door.

"Thank you, Terry," Georgie called.

"How's your relationship with my papa?" Wynter asked Georgie. "Assuming he was still in his right mind when you and Arthur met."

"Oh, he despises me with a passion," Georgie said, grinning broadly. "And the feeling's mutual." Georgie winced. "I hope that doesn't offend you?"

Wynter chuckled. "Absolutely not. I have hopes you've made his life hell?"

Georgie rose and made his way to the lemonade and refilled his glass. "I don't know if I'd say I've made his life hell. He might. I definitely didn't fit his preconceived notions of what his eldest son's omega should look or act like." He returned to sit on the arm of Arthur's chair. "I was from a rural province, and I didn't have the same upbringing or etiquette, so I embarrassed Barnaby to no end." Georgie cocked his head. "Though, I suppose you were the eldest, right? Arthur said you were a few years older?"

"Two, yes," Wynter said before taking another sip.

"Barnaby always called Arthur the eldest, so I'm sorry I said that. Kinda got stuck in my head, I suppose."

"Oh, don't apologize. Papa clearly pretended I was dead, so in his mind, I didn't exist. Not that I ever really did."

Georgie frowned. "I know that man is cruel, but I had no idea he could erase a child's existence. I mean, who does that?" Georgie scoffed. "But then, who does anything he did? Arthur's told me some tales and I told my mate that if he ever laid a hand on me or our kids, he wouldn't wake up the next morning."

Cavanaugh smiled to himself. He liked Georgie.

Wynter laughed. "Refreshing. Actually, we were just talking. I'd been hesitant to come, fearful all these years around Papa and Daddy, you guys might've turned into them."

"Honestly, there was a shift after you died—or rather, after the funeral," Anders said. "Dad lost his shit one day and tore Papa a new asshole in front of us all. Right after, Papa left for a while and Dad wouldn't tell us where. He was gone a solid six months and when he came back… things were better. Not great, but better. Dad was, though. He finally started jumping to our defense instead of fading into the woodwork like before."

"Then Papa got bad again and he went away again. A few times. He'd come back better, but it was only a matter of time before he returned to his wicked ways," Broderick said. "Still, Dad put a stop to the abuse, for the most part. Too late, but it was better than nothing, I suppose. Plus, we were getting older and could stop Papa. Harris locked him in a closet once."

Harris chuckled. "Better than getting hit."

"Dad took us to a therapist. The lot of us," Arthur said. "It helped." He grimaced. "But now… I wonder if he knew? I'd made my peace with him—but if he knew you were alive and let us continue believing you weren't, I don't know if I can forgive that."

"I have no idea," Wynter replied. "When Papa exiled me from Blacksburg, he mentioned Daddy had gotten the private detective, but I can't be sure if he knew about the later bits. He wasn't there, and I never spoke to him."

"And with his memory now," Anders said. "There's little chance we'll get an answer."

"I never found anything in his diaries," Arthur said. "But there's still a few volumes missing and if memory serves, it was the ones from that period. I've learned a lot of surprises reading his words. Things I wish I never knew."

Cavanaugh eyed Wynter, who frowned.

Wynter turned back to Arthur. "What do you mean?"

Arthur hedged.

"Well, they're not mates," Georgie said when Arthur didn't answer. "They were forced to get mated. Neither one of them could stand the other."

Wynter nearly crushed Cavanaugh's hand. "And they forced me to do the same?"

Georgie's mouth dropped open. "Oh?" He looked at Cavanaugh. "My apologies. I tend to open my big mouth and shit falls out. I didn't know you two weren't fated mates."

"We are," Cavanaugh murmured.

Arthur stood and eyed the younger members of the family. "It's a warm day. Why don't you all go on to the pool and enjoy it? The adults need time to talk."

"Dad, I'm twenty," one of the boys said.

"You're still a kid to me," Arthur said. "Scram."

They paused as the children disappeared. As soon as the coast was clear, Wynter caught his brothers' omegas up on some of what he'd shared inside.

"Bastards," Georgie hissed. "But you're here now." He glanced down at Arthur, pulling a flask out from the side of Arthur's leg and the cushion. "After hearing that news, I think it's time to move on to something a little heavier." He poured a bit into his lemonade before doing the same for Arthur. "Booster shot."

Broderick and his mate reached out with their glasses. After Georgie was done there, he turned to offer some to Cavanaugh.

Cavanaugh eyed it a second but shook his head. "I don't really drink anymore."

Georgie clenched his teeth. "Sorry. Should we get rid of it?"

"Enjoy all you want," Cavanaugh said. The temptation was there, especially after that weak moment he'd had after learning he had a son, but he glanced at Wynter. He needed to be strong for his omega and couldn't fall back on bad habits.

Georgie offered the flask to Wynter.

Wynter glanced at Cavanaugh before turning back to Georgie. "No thanks."

"You can," Cavanaugh whispered. "I'm good."

"I plan on kissing you later," Wynter whispered back. "I won't make you taste that. It would be cruel."

Cavanaugh smiled to himself before turning to eye Wynter. His mate gazed up at him with an adoring look that made it harder to breathe.

Harris growled. "They might not, but I do." He lifted his lemonade. "Gimme some of that."

Georgie added a splash to Harris' lemonade.

"You're my favorite brother-in-law," Harris said to Georgie.

"Hey!" Anders' mate, Lee, yelped. "Who helped convince your brother to give you that loan to start your company? I know it wasn't Georgie."

"Jealous," Georgie said to Lee.

Lee wandered over and snatched the flask, taking a sip. "Damned right." He grinned and handed the flask back. "I'm everyone's favorite brother-in-law."

Cavanaugh sat back and grinned. Wynter's family turned out to be better than expected, though, the day was still young. Hopefully things would continue positively. He checked his watch. Somehow, three hours had already passed. Their return flight was scheduled for five, getting them home close to eight.

"I don't know about anyone else, but I'm famished," Anders said. "When's lunch?"

"I'll go check," Georgie said. "We probably should eat something to soak up this whiskey."

Wynter sat back and listened to his family around the large table, realizing his brothers hadn't changed all that much. They were still very much the boys they'd once been, just with some years and experience added on. They were happier, that was clear, and it warmed his heart to see them all doing so well. Wilder and Cavanaugh were drawn into their conversations over lunch, and the reunion was a happier one than Wynter had ever expected.

He fought tears searching the faces around the table.

He'd gotten his family back.

After lunch, they all headed out to the pool where the younger Jaymes were swimming or seated around tables eating their lunches, too.

"You can't get back in the pool for an hour," Arthur fussed at his youngest who'd been making a beeline for the water.

"Daddy… I'll be fine," the boy cried.

"An hour," Arthur repeated.

"Can I sit on the edge and dangle my feet in?"

Arthur sighed. "Yes, but if I catch your behind in that pool, you're dead meat."

His son giggled and ran back to the pool.

"Walk!" Arthur yelled.

"I think your omega has rubbed off on you," Wynter murmured to Arthur. "I could swear I just heard a little country twang in your voice."

Arthur chuckled. "I have spent a good amount of time with his family over the years, so who knows?" He eyed Wynter, shading his eyes from the sun.

"He makes you happy," Wynter murmured, smiling. It wasn't a question. It was clear from the look in his brother's eyes each time the pair glanced at one another.

"Georgie's sunshine and fresh air. This family needed that. Needed him. I don't know what I would've done without him over the years."

"I'm happy for you," Wynter murmured.

Arthur smiled at him, glanced over to where Cavanaugh and Anders were chatting. "This one seems to be rather protective of you. Now that you're no longer under Warden's thumb, is there a chance you might find some happiness of your own?"

Wynter shrugged. "We've both suffered a lot because of our bond. I hope so, but it's too early to be sure."

"He's here with you, isn't he?" Arthur asked, his gaze turning to Cavanaugh again.

Wynter glanced over at his alpha, his breathing growing tighter seeing the man he loved, knowing there might actually be a chance for them. Yet, he was almost scared to discuss it—and jinx them. He shook his head and eyed his brother.

"So, what was this plan for the house you mentioned?" Wynter asked.

Arthur leaned a little closer. "Once Dad and Papa are gone, I'm tearing it down. I've already discussed it with everyone and got their approval—but now that you're back, I need to ask you, too." Arthur eyed the old house. "Do I have your blessing?"

"Of course. It's your house now."

"There are few good memories in this place—and the ones we do have can still be preserved. The view of the starry summer sky. The grounds. We escaped outside to get away from him. I won't change any of that, but that house? There's nothing but darkness in there. I don't want to spend my entire life haunted by our past. We'll rebuild something new and special to hand down to the next generations of Jaymeses."

"I wholeheartedly approve," Wynter murmured.

"Good," Arthur said, smiling.

An older man slipped out onto the patio, shuffling as he walked closer. It took Wynter a few seconds, but he soon realized it was his father. He stiffened as Archie Jaymes turned to smile at him.

"Shit… where's his nurse?" Arthur said as soon as he noticed. He rose quickly and rushed to where Archie stood.

Before Arthur could reach him, he called out to Wynter.

"What're you doing outside, Barnaby?" He scuffled nearer, smiling, but Arthur stopped him a few feet away. Archie eyed Cavanaugh and his hand linked with Wynter's. His smile faded. "And who's your friend?"

"Dad, what are you doing out here? You need to go inside, okay?" Arthur said, gently trying to guide him out without pushing.

"I wanna talk to my mate!" their father said fervently, frowning.

"Your mate is inside, in bed, Dad," Arthur said. "Let's go talk to him now."

Wynter cast a look around and saw everyone had paused what they were doing and watched Archie with something akin to sorrow in their eyes. Sorrow wasn't something he was sure he could manufacture, given their past, but he turned and really looked at his father.

Looking to see if the monster he'd made the man out to be was really there.

Archie was smaller than Wynter remembered, and his skin withered with age. His hair had thinned to almost nothing, the white strands limp. His eyes were rheumy, almost as white as his hair when he turned them toward the sun. The monster wasn't there. Just a frail, old man who was lost to them.

"My mate is right there," Archie said, emphatic, waving a hand at Wynter as Arthur gently urged him to the back door.

Wynter eyed Cavanaugh.

"Let Arthur get him inside," his alpha murmured, squeezing his hand. "He'll be gone soon."

Wynter shook his head. Rising, he released Cavanaugh's hand. He slowly strode closer to his father, whose bottom lip wobbled as he neared.

"I'm not Barnaby," Wynter said, facing the aged version of the man he'd once known.

"Oh?" his father asked, frowning. "You look just like my Barnaby."

"That's not Barnaby," Arthur said. "It's… Wynter."

"Oh, Wynter," their father said with a soft smile. He turned and looked at Wynter. "Wynter. I remember Wynter." His smile faded, and his brows knitted. "I had a son named Wynter."

Wynter turned his face away, unable to handle the emotions welling inside.

"I lost my son Wynter." He scuffled closer and Cav appeared, putting himself between them—protecting Wynter.

"Dad, you need to go inside," Arthur said.

"No," Wynter's father said. "I lost my Wynter. I want him back." He shuffled closer. "Barnaby, what did you do with Wynter? Where is he?"

Wynter gasped inwardly.

"I know you did something. You killed him, didn't you?"

Wynter blinked back tears. Did that mean Archie had believed the story of his death? His father had to have known he'd been in Alexandria all that time, didn't he? It wasn't as if it would've been hard to find him there, had the man only looked. He wasn't sure what he believed, and if the man was as far gone as his brothers said, he'd likely not know either way.

All the hate he'd harbored in his heart, he couldn't find it in that moment.

Did it really matter if he knew or not? They wouldn't get that time back. Nothing could change the past.

"You did find him, Daddy. I'm right here," Wynter whispered. "I'm Wynter."

Archie Jaymes lifted his weathered hands and gently took Wynter's face in them. He smiled, his rheumy eyes bright. "You came home."

"I did," Wynter whispered.

Archie struggled to lean closer and pressed a kiss to Wynter's forehead. "I always knew you would."

Wynter closed his eyes, a tear sliding down his cheek.

Archie backed away a couple of uneasy steps. His smile slowly faded. "Barnaby?"

"Dad, you're going to have another spell. We need to get you inside," Arthur said, urging the man away from Wynter.

Arthur met Wynter's stare before growing more insistent of Archie's departure. Finally, their father allowed himself to be led away and back inside the house.

Cavanaugh wrapped his arms around Wynter from behind. Wynter spun, burying his face in his alpha's chest. He fought more tears and melted into his Cavanaugh's strength, stealing a little for himself.

"Are you okay?" Cavanaugh asked.

"No, but I will be," Wynter replied. He stepped back and stared up at his mate. "Thank you for being here with me."

"Nowhere else I'd want to be than your side."

Wynter glanced over to one of the pool tables and noticed Wilder's concerned look. He nodded that he was okay and Wilder continued his conversation with his uncle, Harris. Wynter smiled at the sight. The two had been thick as thieves, talking in depth since the end of lunch. About what, Wynter wasn't sure.

Arthur reappeared a few minutes later. "I'm sorry. I'd asked the nurse to keep him inside. Seems he drifted off while Dad was napping and didn't hear the old man get up. It won't happen again."

"It was an accident. Not your fault." Wynter sighed. "One down… one to go, I guess."

Arthur cocked his head to the side. "You want to see Papa?"

"Like Wilder said, he might not remember what he did, but I do… and maybe seeing him will allow me to break the hold he has on me—like it just did with Daddy."

Arthur smiled softly and offered an arm. "Follow me."

Wynter eyed Cavanaugh.

"Want me to come?" his alpha asked.

Wynter nodded.

Before they could make it to the back door, Wilder appeared at their side. "What's going on?"

"Your papa is going to go see his papa," Cavanaugh replied.

"Need company?" Wilder asked, his voice low. "I don't want to overstep, but I think I want to get a look at the villain of your story."

"In some ways, he's the villain of yours, too." Wynter eyed his son. "Come on."

Arthur led him upstairs. Not one of them spoke, the only sound the screams coming from upstairs. His stomach knotted, and Wynter wasn't sure if he might lose the lunch he'd just eaten, but he forced one foot in front of the other. The screams were ear-splitting by the time they reached the bedroom door they seemed to emanate from.

The door was swung wide.

Wynter saw the large hospital bed dominating the center of the bedroom. Monitors beeped on either side, several bags hung on an IV pole. When his gaze landed on the middle of the bed, he could barely see his papa there. Barnaby was tiny—and between his pale skin and long, silver hair, he all but faded into the sheets.

A ghost.

One who'd haunted Wynter far too long.

He stepped into the bedroom and noticed a nurse seated in a corner, reading while wearing ear protection. Barnaby Jaymes continued to scream, the sound raw and unnatural. Wynter winced as they neared, his ears aching from the screeching.

But as he looked at the man and those empty, vacant eyes, he knew then that the threat was gone.

Barnaby looked at them, yet was unseeing as he wailed. He tugged at the cuffs on his wrists and writhed in the bed. Wynter blinked back tears. Not for Barnaby's sake, but for his own. The writhing madman in the bed had controlled so much of his life. How he'd given Barnaby so much power, he couldn't understand, not seeing him like that.

"Papa?" Arthur called, nearing the bed.

Cavanaugh and Wilder moved in close to Wynter, one on either side of him. Cavanaugh held a firm hand on his lower back while Wilder squeezed one of his shoulders—both of them lending their strength and support. He leaned into it, thankful they'd come up with him.

"Papa? Wynter's come to visit," Arthur screamed over Barnaby's howls.

Barnaby showed no signs of registering Arthur's comment. It was clear, the man was long gone.

"That's enough," Wynter said, turning for the door.

"I told you never to return here," Barnaby cried, his voice hoarse.

Wynter paused before slowly turning around.

Barnaby glared at Wynter. "How dare you darken my doorstep, you whore."

"Papa!" Arthur spat.

Barnaby cackled, scanning the room. "And you brought your lover and your bastard child with you, I see. Adding insult to injury. Where's Warden?"

Wynter lifted his chin. "Warden's dead."

"Did you kill him?" Barnaby asked, grinning madly.

"I did not," Wynter murmured.

"You did. Killed him with your constant disrespect. I should've killed you when I had the chance. The both of you," Barnaby said to Wynter. "Along with the bastard in your belly."

Wynter sensed Cavanaugh and Wilder's stiffening behind him.

"I won't let you ruin this family again," Barnaby said.

"I never ruined anything, but you surely ruined mine." Wynter eyed Cav and then Wilder before returning to gaze at his papa. "You ruined our chances to be a family." He paused, wincing. "I allowed your evil to strip away any happiness I'd had or would ever have." He smiled wanly, inching closer to the bed. "But all your hard work? It was all for naught. In the end, I'm free from your terror. I can finally seek my own happiness without your threats darkening my days. And here you lie, hated by your children, slowly dying while chained to a bed like the monster you are."

Perhaps he should've shown more compassion. His papa had suffered a mental illness, yet the torment the man had wreaked made it impossible to forgive.

Yet wasn't he himself asking for that same forgiveness from those in his life? He tried to find an ounce of sympathy for Barnaby Jaymes—but came up empty.

Barnaby cackled… but the sound faded away. He was silent a moment, comprehension disappearing from his eyes. He opened his mouth, but only a hollow wail came out.

Wynter turned. "There's nothing more to see here." He fled for the hallway, the continued screaming too much on his tattered nerves. Cavanaugh and Wilder exited right behind him.

"Wynter?"

Wynter spun to find Archie in the hallway, holding a book. He rose to his full height, lifted his chin, and took a deep breath while Cavanaugh and Wilder blocked the man from getting too close. "Yes… Daddy?"

Archie shuffled closer and handed him the book clutched in his wrinkled hands. Not just a book, but a small leather pouch, as well, that rested on top. He didn't say anything, but his eyes spoke volumes.

Wynter took them as his brother exited the bedroom and shut the door. "Thank you."

"I saved it for you," he whispered before turning and slowly shuffling away.

Wynter glanced down at the leather-bound volume. Once Arthur led them back downstairs and into the foyer, he cracked it open and took a peek. "Arthur, I think this might be one of the missing diaries you'd mentioned."

Arthur moved closer, scanning the pages as Wynter lifted them. "I believe it is. It looks similar to the rest."

Wynter handed it to Arthur. "You should have this."

Arthur shook his head, holding his hand up in refusal. "No. He said he saved it for you."

Wynter eyed it. He wasn't sure he had it in him to read his father's words, but deep down, he knew he would. Eventually.

"Once you're done with it—and if you're okay with me reading it—I'd love a peek," Arthur said. "The insights of their relationship and things that went on right around us without us knowing have been—rather eye opening. I think it's helped us heal some, too, knowing just how flawed they were as human beings."

"I don't know if I'll have the nerve to read it immediately. It's been one hell of a week." He closed the volume and ran his hand over the linen and leather cover. "I might need to work up the courage."

"I can wait," Arthur said, smiling softly. "What's in the pouch?"

Wynter untwisted the closure and peeked inside. He slid out a few sheets. "My birth certificate… school records… old photos…" Wynter scoffed. "All the things Papa claimed he'd destroyed." He slid another thick set out. "My mating contract to Warden! I don't think I ever had a chance to look at it longer than the few seconds it took them to force me to sign."

"I can't believe he's been hiding those all this time," Arthur said as Wynter shoved the papers back inside. "Or that he remembered long enough to give them to you in one of those rare moments of clarity."

Wynter hugged the book and pouch to his chest. "I have a lot to look through once we're home. On top of everything else."

"You don't have to leave yet, do you?" Arthur asked, frowning. "You just got here."

"Our flight home is scheduled to leave at five," Wilder murmured. "We likely shouldn't be too much longer before we head back to the city."

Arthur lifted a brow. "You should've planned a longer trip."

"Well, between Wilder's newborn at home… and not being sure how my reception would be here," Wynter murmured. "A brief visit made sense."

"Why don't you stay the weekend?" Arthur asked. "I know you wouldn't want to stay here , but I'm sure Anders or Broderick would welcome you. If not, I can book you a hotel rooms for the night."

Wynter eyed Cavanaugh and then Wilder before turning back to Arthur. "It's been a roller coaster the last few days, and while I want to know everything I've missed, I think it might be best to get some rest and reflect on what's happened… and then perhaps I can come back and visit again?"

"You'd better," Arthur said with a smile. "We know you're still around. There's no getting rid of us now."

Wynter grinned up at his little brother. "Thank you."

"Meh, what did I do?"

"You've welcomed me home when I never thought I'd see the day." He fought tears. "I've got my family back after all this time."

"Well, we definitely shouldn't wait another forty years before the next reunion," Arthur said, dragging him in for a bear hug. "I need to see my big brother at least once a year, if not more. Quarterly. I think that's fair."

Wynter smiled, leaning back. "I think that can be arranged."

Arthur clapped Wilder on the back. "And since you've got a brand-new baby at home, perhaps the next visit should be us coming to Alexandria."

"You're welcome. Anytime," Wynter said. "I've got a big old empty house with plenty of room." He sighed. "That is, if it's still mine after the reading of the will."

"There's room at my house," Wilder said. "It might be tight with everyone, but I think we can manage it."

Arthur grinned. "Anytime we can get away from this old tomb is a good one. We'll have to make plans soon. Broderick's boys will be home from university, too, so you can meet a couple more nephews."

Elan marched into the foyer and crooked a finger. "I have a bone to pick with you, Wilder Cavanaugh."

All eyes turned to Wynter's mate.

Cavanaugh frowned. "What did I do?"

Elan crossed his arms over his chest. "Seems your son just told Harris that you were a bestselling writer. The very one that put that desire to travel into my son's head and sent him out on his trek."

Cavanaugh shrugged, grinning. "Maybe."

Elan wagged a finger. "If my boy dies at the hands of a Wildling, it's all your fault."

"Your son is massive," Arthur said. "Bigger than any Wildling. I think he can hold his own."

"Oh, I know," Elan said, dropping the pretense and grinning. "I mean, I do worry about him out there on his own, but I sense he's going to be okay. I wouldn't have given my blessing otherwise." He wagged a finger at Cavanaugh again. "Don't you go putting any new ideas in his head when you meet him, either."

Cavanaugh chuckled. "I will do my best not to."

Elan winked and headed toward the guest bathroom.

"Massive, hmm?" Wynter asked. "Elan's pretty tall for an omega."

"Elan's family is huge," Arthur said. "He's the shortest omega of the bunch, and all his alpha brothers are giants."

"I noticed Broderick's boys were tall," Wilder said.

"And they're young," Arthur said. "Give them a few more years and they're going to be just as tall as Everett. He's rounded out well over seven feet. I feel small when he's around."

"Over seven feet?" Wynter asked. "My womb hurts for Elan. I can't imagine how big a baby that was. Wilder's six-six, and I wasn't sure I was going to make it through that birth. He was my hardest, for sure."

Wilder smiled at him. "Sorry?"

Wynter chuckled. He turned to Arthur. "Perhaps we should start our goodbyes now. Something tells me it might take a while before we can get out of here."

"If you must," Arthur said, a disappointed glimmer in his eyes.

The look wasn't lost on Wynter. A part of him wanted to stay and find out everything about their lives while he'd been away—but he needed a breath. He followed his brother out, with his son and alpha following close behind. It was good they started when they did. They just made it to the helipad in time for their flight home. They climbed onboard and buckled up—but before they could take off, Harris appeared outside the doors.

Wynter frowned, but watched Harris jump onboard. He grabbed an unused headset as he knelt on the floor by the last available seat.

"Mind some company on your trip back?" Harris asked.

Wynter smiled. "You want to visit Alexandria?"

"I was hoping I might be able to stay with you for a little while?"

Wynter smiled, yet frowned, too. Harris was his brother, but a virtual stranger, too—plus he wasn't exactly standing on solid ground himself. "If I have a home come next week, you're welcome to stay there. Otherwise, we might both be looking for a roof over our heads."

"You know you always have a home to come to," Wilder murmured, eyeing Wynter.

Wynter held his son's gaze and smiled, fighting back a wave of emotion.

Harris dropped the duffle he had on one shoulder. "I apologize for imposing. I know I'm asking for too much, but I need to get the hell out of Blacksburg…" He looked away, his shoulders drooping. "I promise I'll earn my keep. I swear."

A member of the ground crew moved to shut the outer door, but Wynter waylaid him.

"Tell me why you're running," Wynter said to Harris.

"The Blacksburg Provincial Government torpedoed me and… I've lost everything."

Wynter saw the anguish in his brother's eyes. His gaze flicked to the grounds crewman and nodded. Harris slid into the empty seat, his relief apparent by the way his body melted into it.

"What did your company do?" Cavanaugh asked as the flight team closed the door and the propellers sped up.

"We were building new satellites and planned to launch them to connect services within the Palatinate," Harris said. "News travels too slow across the continent, going from provincial intranet to provincial intranet. Things that happen in the Western Provinces can take months, if not a year to reach us here—if at all. I wanted to connect the continent and make that process quicker."

"Seems clever," Cavanaugh said. "Why'd it fail?"

"It shouldn't have failed," Harris groused. "We should be able to connect to people, news, goods, and services outside our home province. The doors it would've opened for fair trade alone was immeasurable. But Blacksburg politicians caught wind of what we were planning and scrambled to stop us in our tracks. A few months ago, they passed a law preventing connected internet services between provinces, claiming it was a security risk. I tried to fight and contemplated moving the company to a more welcoming province, but along the way I lost multiple investors and some key employees on the tech end—they got scared and lost faith. After they were gone, there was nothing left to fight for. I was the money man and the vision. Without the science, the company was doomed."

"I'm so sorry," Wynter murmured.

"Not your fault," Harris replied, shoulders slumped. "I really thought we had something special there. We were going to revolutionize the Palatinate." He smiled wryly. "Only we crashed and burned."

"Are you going to try and rebuild elsewhere?" Cavanaugh asked. "The idea seems sound. Just because Blacksburg said no, other provinces might be interested."

"Oh, they are. We had competition in other provinces. It was a great race as to who could get their infrastructure in place first and corner the market. Before the law was changed, we were in the lead, but we quickly fell to the back of the pack. Now someone else will make our dreams happen."

"That's rough," Cavanaugh said.

"Yep," Harris muttered. "I sold what was left of the company. The new buyers wanted the satellites and materials to build more for the scrap metal alone. They took ownership on Friday, and I watched as they began to dismantle all our hard work. The investors still left were mostly made whole thanks to the sale, but I haven't. I've lost everything." He sighed. "At my age, I don't know what I do next."

"You talk like you're some old man," Wynter murmured. "You're, what—forty-five?"

"Forty- six," Harris corrected with a sardonic smile. "But after the last year of fighting for our lives, I feel twice as old."

"I get feeling adrift. I'm right there myself," Wynter said. "I don't know what comes next either."

"I told Harris we might be able to find him something at Jaymes & Associates," Wilder murmured. He turned to Harris. "I'll still need time to see what we have open and there's no guarantee we have something you'll want to do, either."

"I realize that," Harris said. "And me jumping on this helicopter wasn't me trying to pressure you, Wilder. I appreciate your generous offer and if there's something that's a good fit for both me and the company, I just might take it—but honestly, don't jump through hoops to make it happen. I don't know what I want for myself right now. I'm grieving this loss and the future I'd been envisioning. All I do know is I needed out of Blacksburg, and I wasn't going to go to work at the fucking bank."

"You don't want to work the family business, hmm?" Cavanaugh asked with a grin.

"I love my brothers. I do. They've protected me my entire life… but I don't want to work there. That's Dad's company, and while they've all somewhat forgiven him, I haven't," Harris said. "I don't want his money or to be a part of his legacy. I want to make my own way. Somehow, someway, I want to stand on my own two feet—though, I haven't had much luck so far."

"There's time," Wynter murmured. "And maybe this change of venue might help."

Harris smiled, a cynical look in his eyes. "Maybe."

Silence fell between them, the hum and vibration of the helicopter the only sound.

"Speaking of your dad," Wilder said to Wynter. "I know how hard that was to face him— and your papa. I'm proud of you."

Wynter inhaled, feeling like he hadn't really breathed since being in that house. "Thank you."

Cavanaugh slid his fingers through Wynter's, and he squeezed his alpha's hand tight. Resting his head on Cavanaugh's shoulder, he closed his eyes and took another deep breath, hugging the diary and envelope close as he listened to Wilder and Harris talk business, Alexandria, and the future.