"Okay, that's enough." Noah cuts Marshall off with a hand on his shoulder. "How about you save your knowledge for after we move everything in?"
"Are you also a firebiter?"
"Firefighter, Owen. Fighter." I find it endearing the way he mixes up his words sometimes, but I try to make sure he knows what the actual word is without belittling him. I grew up in a household like that and don't want Owen to feel any less than the smart kid he is.
"Fighter," he corrects himself, smiling up at me and then back to Marshall.
"I'm not, Owen."
"Doesn't stop you from roleplaying," I hear Gabe mutter under his breath next to me. I look over at him and he looks like a deer in the headlights when he realizes he said that out loud. I hide my laugh behind a cough. "How about we get to unpacking?"
"Let's get my trucks!" Owen says and rushes to the door. It's still open, letting out what cool air had filled the space while we weregone. I hang back, letting Owen have his fun while watching the four men I'm blindly trusting.
We make a game plan on how we're going to get everything out. I have to move the truck forward a bit so we can put down the ramp. Izzy and Gabe hop into the truck and hand boxes to me, Noah, and Marshall. Owen is given toys or much smaller, less breakable things to carry as well. We all joke and laugh while moving boxes. Marshall is quite funny. Noah is quieter, but he hits the mark with perfectly timed one-liners. Gabe, like he's claimed a few times, is great with Owen. I watch them interact, and there's something genuine in Gabe's expression every time Owen calls his name.
By the time we're down to just the big furniture, it's been over an hour. The boxes are sitting in each room and they will probably take at least a week to go through. Someone (me) forgot to label what exactly was in each box as I taped them up. The most they say is the generic room they'll need to go in. I watch Gabe—and the others—pick up the furniture and maneuver it inside. They are dripping with sweat, and I feel bad that I don't even know where my cups are. Labeling boxes with their actual contents didn't seem like an important step when I was packing everything. I pull out my phone as they're setting the couch in the living room to order some groceries to the house.
"Everything okay?" I recognize Gabe's voice without looking up.
"Yeah, just ordering some water and popsicles from the store a couple miles away." I don't know the store, but it's Phoenix so there are plenty of delivery services around. "Should be here in half an hour."
"I could have just driven you," Gabe says. "Save your money."
"I'm good," I say. I'm not hurting for money, and starting the job at the college soon is going to be a serious pay bump as well. "I'llbe going to the grocery store tomorrow to stock the kitchen, so this is just to get us through the heat today."
"Do you have a car?" I watch the guys walk back outside to the truck. Izzy gives Gabe a knowing look, one that asks, 'why are we doing all the work?'. Owen is most likely making a mess in his room already. Marshall was commandeered to help Owen put his bed together. Last I checked on them, Owen was talking Marshall's ears off about his favorite animals. They’re keeping the door open at my request.
"I do," I say. "It's at Owen's maternal grandparents' house. They live in Phoenix, which is one of the reasons we chose to move here from Virginia. They're supposed to be coming by tomorrow to meet Owen. They haven't seen him in person before."
"Oh wow, big difference in climate." We move toward the front door and walk out to look in the truck. There's really just my bedroom furniture left.
We stop that conversation when Izzy and Noah hand off the headboard of my bed frame. It takes a bit of maneuvering, but we get it through the front door and down the hall. Owen runs out when I call for him, holding a beloved toy truck in each hand. I sigh, knowing that it's going to be next to impossible to organize his room. "Can you open the bathroom door, buddy?"
"You're putting your bed in the bathroom?" He tilts his head, but does as I ask.
Gabe is the one to answer that question since he's closer to Owen. "We have to open the door so we have more room to turn sideways and get this into Daddy's room."
I don't know what the feeling is that shoots through my mind and body when I hear Gabe say the worddaddy. I refer to myself as that all the time and Owen exclusively calls me that for thetime being. Hearing a grown man, a younger-than-me grown man, calling me daddy is… different. I know my face shows the uncomfortable feeling welling up in me, but I hide it and smile before he looks back up.
It isn’t wrong for him to refer to me as Daddy when talking to Owen, but it still feels…off. I push those thoughts away and we set the headboard against one wall. The bedrooms both have closets that are side-by-side, separated by a wall between them. Mine is on the right side of the room, where Owen's is on the left.
Owen has already gone into his bedroom, and I peek in to see Marshall is at the final stages of putting his bed together. The room is not as messy as I imagined. My earlier concerns about the guys being out of my sight with my kid have mostly evaporated.
I turn back to walk with Gabe through the house. Izzy and Noah are bringing in the footboard.
"Is Owen's mom in the picture?" Gabe asks the question when we're alone outside. He sounds hesitant to ask, but not like he's prying.
"No, she passed away when Owen was a baby."
"Oh, I'm sorry." Gabe looks nervous and I shake my head.
"No, don't worry about it. It's a logical question. She was nice and would have been a great mom. Owen was a surprise, but she loved him. She passed in a car accident a couple of months after he was born."
"And you've been raising him on your own?"
"Yeah." I grunt as I try to lift the mattress. Gabe is right beside me and he reaches at the same time that I readjust my grip. His hand lands on top of mine and we both freeze for a second, looking at each other.
"Sorry," he says and pulls his hand away.
