Hobie picked up Smort and eyed him suspiciously. “I don’t really trust Smort.”
“Because he eats insects?”
“No. Because he eats grass. I ate it once. It doesn’t taste good.” Hobie lifted Smort up in the air. Cameron watched the wheels turn in his head.
“What if Smort wants to be the new King Dandelion? He’s pretending to play nice when really he has this whole agenda.”
“Yes!” Hobie said back, though he seemed confused by half those words. “You’re really good at this.”
“I hope to do it for a living one day.” Cameron shrugged modestly. He believed he had a gift for story. Hobie should come to his screenwriting class. He was already head and shoulders above most of the other students.
“Time’s up,” Walker called out from behind. He patted the bed, which Cameron soon realized was for Hobie, not himself.
“Okay. A deal’s a deal,” Hobie said with a real yawn. Cameron wondered if he really understood that. Doug probably put those words into his mouth a long time ago.
“Thanks for letting me play with you,” Cameron said.
“Thank you for helping, Cameron.” Hobie smiled wide and showed off all his baby teeth. Cameron buzzed with something more powerful than beers and shots. “Dad, can Cameron tuck me into bed?”
Cameron whipped his head around at Walker. He had no idea what that entailed, but he let Walker know he could handle it.
“Why don’t Cameron and I do it together? Since he’s a first-timer.”
Hobie nodded and climbed under the covers, pulling them right up to his chin.
“Hey Cameron, I’m playing soccer this spring!”
“That’s awesome!”
“Will you come to my first game?”
Cameron looked to Walker, who didn’t have an answer. It was his call. “Sure! I’d love to.”
Walker showed Cameron the steps delicately, like he was teaching him how to operate an airplane.
“You don’t want to tuck too hard and turn him into a mummy!”
Hobie rocked back and forth to show Cameron what mummies do. “I won’t be able to get out of bed.”
“I think I get it,” Cameron said, though actually nervous. He was finally on Hobie’s good side and didn’t want to blow it.
“We’ll each take a side,” Walker said. He took the far side, and Cameron took the other. “Ready?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Cameron said. He and Walker jammed the covers under Hobie’s legs. He giggled and squirmed the whole time, but by the end, he was a comfortable sardine.
“Sweet dreams, Hobie.” Walker brushed back his son’s hair and gave him a kiss. Cameron hated that he was getting all mushy.
CHAPTER fourteen
Walker
Hobie was down for the count. He took an extra moment to watch his son sleep, his compact chest rising and falling. He wished he could bottle moments like these up for a shitty day.
Walker found his friend in the living room, staring at pictures on the fireplace mantle, nursing his glass of water. When Cameron turned around, he saw flecks of sleep weighing in his eyes.
“I can call you a cab home. My treat.”
“You’re good with him,” Cameron said quietly. That wasn’t sleep in his eyes. Something much heavier.
