In the cafeteria, the few remaining children sat with their caretakers at a cluster of tables they’d pushed together.
With a hand at the small of Rafe’s back, Grant guided him to the line of servers. The alpha placed their meals on trays, frowned, and switched plates to give Rafe the larger portion. He led them to a private table, well removed from the omegas, and asked, “Is this okay?”
The thoughtful behavior left Rafe feeling special, cared for. But after that double-crossing chat in the hallway, he knew better than to fall for it.
Seated across from the alpha, Rafe kept his head down and shoveled food into his mouth. He glared at the bottle of water. A stiff shot of tequila would have been very welcome to drown his disappointment.
They ate in silence for a few minutes, then Grant sp
