“After your phone is charged, keep it on you,” Marshall said to me.
“Yes, Sir,” I agreed.
“I’ll let you know what Cory says.”
“Thank you.”
Lincoln turned on the TV and immediately started to scroll through channels, spinning his body around so his legs were over the back of the couch and his head was on my lap. I petted my fingers through his hair and smiled up at Marshall, tears threatening to spill again but not from sadness.
I didn’t think I’d ever been so taken care of. So happy.
He must have seen it because he bent down and swiped at my lower lashes before anything was able to escape.
“I—” He closed his mouth and swallowed, steeling himself before going on. “I hope you have a good day, sweetheart.”
“Sweetheart,” Lincoln murmured, and I covered his facewith my hand. He licked my palm, and I smeared his saliva across his cheek.
“Thank you,” I whispered, because I didn’t know what else to say.
Marshall kept my face in his hold and pressed a very chaste kiss against my mouth. When he pulled back and stood, there was a look of worry on his face, and I chalked it up to his concern about my recent unemployment and being home alone with Lincoln. Before I could ask him what was wrong, he schooled his features back into his normal mask of casual dominance and adjusted the cuffs of his shirt.
“I’ll be home by six,” he said. “I expect dinner.”
I grimaced, brow scrunching. Had he forgotten what day it was, or did he not care?
“Yes, Sir, but…”
“But?”
“It’s Friday,” I said, tucking his chin toward his chest. “You see your brothers on Fridays.”
Marshall cursed under his breath.
“Do I get dinner?” Lincoln asked, the question muffled by my hand still covering half his face.
“You can stay if you want,” Marshall told him, cracking his knuckles one at a time.
“I do like, but I can’t. I just wanted to see what you’d say.”
“Lincoln,” I warned, throwing my head back and staring up at the ceiling. I hoped he wasn’t going to antagonize Marshall forever because that would get so old, so fast.
“He’s fine,” Marshall assured me, brushing my hair backward and leaving one last kiss against my forehead. “Dinner for you and Lincoln, then. And I’ll be home right after. Relax today, Silas. A new job will be waiting for you soon, I’m sure of it.”
“I’ll relax,” I promised.
“He’ll relax,” Lincoln also promised.
Marshall gave us both one last look like he didn’t want to leave, but not because of trust. Because of longing. Much like he’d cleared his last expression, he shook this one away as well, then grabbed his things and headed out the door.
“He loves you,” Lincoln said, long after the sound of Marshall’s car had faded into the distance.
I opened my mouth to argue, but the protest died in the back of my throat.
Lincoln rolled onto his side and handed me the remote, and neither of us said another word for hours.
CHAPTER 26
MARSHALL
