Jericho nodded. “They’re all adults now—barely—but they come back here night after night, still trying to avoid their shitty lives or their shitty apartments. That’s one of the hazards of being with me, Freckles. We’re sort of a package deal.”
Atticus turned in his arms. “I was raised in a house full of homicidal boys. This is nothing new. Where do they sleep when they’re here? Seems like cramped quarters.”
“A couple of them will fight over the couch, and others will bed down in sleeping bags.”
Atticus frowned. “On the concrete?”
Jericho shrugged. “I’ve offered to let them crash up here, but it’s not really big enough.”
“It doesn’t seem right that they don’t have a place to sleep when they’re here. You should buy the place next door and turn it into a dorm or buy an apartment building somewhere safe and just let them live there.”
Jericho laughed, lips dragging across Atticus’s. “I do okay for myself, Freckles, but my name’s not Rockefeller.”
Atticus’s mouth went desert dry. “But it could be Mulvaney.”
Jericho’s whole body went rigid for a split second, then Jericho peered up at him. “Did…did you just propose to me, Freckles?”
Atticus gave a stilted nod. “I think I did, yeah.”
“Did you mean it?” Jericho asked, a tension in his tone that matched the sudden panic seizing Atticus’s heart. What if he said no? What if it was too fast, too soon? Jericho had said repeatedly that he’d never let Atticus go, but that was a far cry from making it legal.
Atticus gave another stilted nod. “Yeah. Yeah, I did.”
“Then, yeah, Freckles. The answer is yes.”
“I can’t figure out if you’re trying to be romantic or if you’re taking me out to the woods to kill and dismember me.”
Atticus scoffed. “Dismember you in these pants? They cost almost two grand.” When he snuck a glance at Jericho in the passenger seat, he stared out into the inky black darkness, still looking suspicious. Atticus laughed. “Like I’d kill you on our anniversary? I’m not that sentimental.”
Jericho grinned, finally looking at him then. “Aw, thanks, Freckles.”
When Atticus made the turn off, Jericho’s face lit up. “Are you taking us to our murder cabin?”
Atticus didn’t answer, just reached out and squeezed Jericho’s hand, holding it the rest of the way. When he brought the Bronco to a stop, Adam and Noah were already waiting there. Jericho frowned. “What’s going on?”
Atticus turned in his seat to look at Jericho. “Well, one, I’m not just taking you to our murder cabin. I bought our murder cabin. For us.” He pulled the key free from his pocket and dangled it between them.
Jericho’s brow shot up, and he gave Atticus a heated glance. “You bought me our murder cabin? I don’t know, Freckles. That sounds pretty fucking sentimental.”
Atticus snorted. “Please, I got it for a steal.” He wrinkled his nose. “Apparently, they found bloodstains on the floor and pieces of human remains in there.”
Jericho started to open the door, then quickly closed it, turning to look back at Atticus, suspicion returning. “Wait, you said one. Does that mean there’s a two? And does this two have anything to do with why your brother and Noah are crashing our anniversary?”
Atticus rolled his eyes. “They’re not, I promise. I just needed them to…babysit your present.”
“Babysit my present?” Jericho repeated slowly.
Atticus grinned. “You’ll see.”
Jericho studied Atticus’s face. “Did you, like, adopt a baby without telling me? I think we’ve already got a full house at home.”
“Yes, I adopted an infant and asked my brother and his fiancé to drive it out to the middle of the woods so I could present it to you in our murder cabin as a surprise.” When Jericho continued to stare, Atticus laughed. “No, you know I hate kids. I’ll definitely leave that to August and Lucas.”
August and Lucas were deeply entrenched in the process of in vitro fertilization. Now that Cricket had agreed to be their surrogate, they spent a lot of time hopping between doctors appointments and attorneys. Having a baby was much more complicated when there were two fathers, it seemed. Luckily, there was a village of murderers just waiting to raise this child. Bet they wouldn’t mention that in any legal documents.
No, Atticus much preferred his and Jericho’s children. They were fully grown and completely self-sufficient. Well, okay, not completely, but there were no diapers or teething or schoolyard bullies.
Atticus had bought the building beside Jericho’s shop and demolished the inside. Asa had redesigned the space to accommodate up to twenty people, if necessary. The zoning had been a nightmare, but it was amazing the doors money opened.
