“I don’t think you’d like what I do to them,” Asa countered, eyes growing cold, his hand raising to clutch Zane to him.
“Them?” Zane asked, giving Asa a look.
“You, Lois. Just you,” Asa assured him. “He knows what I meant.”
Thomas sighed as Zane flushed to the tips of his ears, which only served to highlight the mass of bruises and bite marks left by Asa, marks Thomas did his best to ignore. What his sons chose to do behind closed doors—provided it was consensual—was not his concern. But that didn’t negate that the exchange between the two was uncomfortable.
Adam and Asa continued to glare at each other until Thomas said, “Enough, you two.” But only because it was expected of him.
“He started it,” Avi said, coming to stand beside his brother.
“No comments from the peanut gallery,” Thomas muttered, leveling a look at Avi, hoping that would be enough to shut at least one of them up.
“Jericho and I brought steaks,” Atticus called with a wave from the lounge chair beside his husband. “Wyagu, of course. In case you don’t want to eat your dinner off of a bun made without flour or eggs.”
Zane’s eyes went wide. “Is eating off a bun poor people things too?” he whispered.
Asa frowned, looking at Avi. “I’m honestly not sure. Atticus and Adam have some weird fucking notions about the lines between rich and poor, despite who they ended up with.”
“Felix?” Zane asked, looking at the younger Navarro—well, Mulvaney—now. “Are buns for poor people too?”
Zane was smart and had proven useful in dozens of ways since joining the family, but while he clearly deferred to Asa when it came to…intimate moments, it was Felix he often looked to for reassurance. A most unexpected development.
Felix gave Zane a patient look and patted his curls. “No, baby. We’re not poor.” He turned his judgmental gaze on Thomas. “Their father just spoiled them so much it rotted their brains.”
He wasn’t wrong.
“I’m not spoiled,” Atticus said, looking to his husband for confirmation, frowning when Jericho grew laser focused on the grill before him.
Felix looked back and forth between Adam and Atticus. “Fine, Adam is spoiled, Atticus is… elitist.”
Atticus sniffed. “You say elitist like it's a bad thing.”
“You tell ‘em, Freckles,” Adam mocked.
“Hey, I’m on your side,” Atticus snapped.
“My bad,” Adam said, sheepishly. “Force of habit.”
“Spit in his burger,” Atticus muttered to Jericho.
Jericho gave Adam a hard look. “I would, but it wouldn’t slow him down. He’s fucking disgusting. He might not like the ‘unwashed masses’ but he’d eat a cheeseburger out of a dumpster if you let him.”
Adam shrugged, giving Atticus a grin. “It’s true.”
Lucas stepped onto the patio. “You okay, dad?” he asked, his voice full of all the empathy his adopted children lacked.
“Where are my grandchildren?” Thomas asked in response, ignoring Lucas’s heart eyes.
Lucas gave him a kind look and attempted to clap him on the shoulder. Thomas side-stepped the gesture. “No offense, but I don’t want you getting any…flashes from me at the moment. I feel like I might be…emoting too much.”
Lucas nodded, giving another look that made Thomas kind of want to punch him. “The girls are waiting for you in the nursery. Cricket’s in there too. It’s almost time for their nap. I told her you would likely want to take over until lunch is ready.”
He said nothing further, just headed to the third floor where the girls' rooms resided in the west wing. He threw open the doors to find Cricket sitting in the large chair, a girl tucked into each arm. “Do you want to give them their bottles?”
Cricket breastfed which meant she’d put their lunch in bottles knowing he would want to feed them himself. He gave a grateful nod. She swapped places with him, placing a girl in each arm, before giving them their bottles. When they were settled she gave him a kind smile then left, closing the doors behind her.
Cricket wasn’t officially one of his children, but, like the others, she had sort of wormed her way into his life. And, as themother of his grandchildren, she had cemented herself a place in the Mulvaney household, though that was definitely not her intention.
