Page 132 of His Forsaken Alpha

“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 forconfirmation 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?”

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