“I just can’t take it!” Rafe screamed into his phone while lying down on his bed, still reeling from the argument with his father a week and a half ago. “I can’t take knowing… that he knows and… you guys are…”

Nearby, Andre, situated in a chair, winced.

On the other side of the line, a growl sounded out before the rough baritone of Beau’s voice grouched. “Don’t you dare call us defenseless, imp! Don’t you dare!”

“Calm down,” Toby, his lighter tone fainter, cooed. “Don’t freak him out.”

“Old man…” Rafe started, but his caretaker cut him off with another angry snarl.

“Imp. Cherub. I need you to listen to me closely.” Beside the blond, his omé friend sat up straight, looking as if he’d been caught daydreaming. “We. Will. Be. Fine. God, I know your father has… tidied up his otherwise sloppy skills since then. Of course, he did. He’d be stupid not to. Don’t you think we accounted for a reunion one day?”

“Considering where I work, I’d be foolish to think we’d be done with him,” Toby added.