Blaine lets out a shaky breath. “I thought that’s just how he was, you know?”
“It is how he is, though. There’s nothingwrongwith him. He isn’t something that needs to be fixed. His brain processes things differently to us, and there’s some things he needs more support with than someone who’s neurotypical. But it doesn’tmean there’s anything wrong with him,” I say, my tone coming out a little harsher than I intended.
“I know. I didn’t mean it like that.” He lets out a frustrated sigh. His head drops forward, shoulders slouching in defeat. “I can’t help but wonder if he would’ve found things easier if he had received this diagnosis earlier. Would it have helped him feel less alone?”
“I mean, yeah, probably, but you can’t think like that. Living in the past isn’t healthy. Trust me, I know.”
He’s silent, and I give him the chance to let my words sink in before adding, “Why don’t you and Alex come over tomorrow for dinner? I think it would be good for you and Elliot to talk to each other.”
He rolls his lips together, and when he raises his head, his eyes are glassy.
“I get why you’re feeling the way you are, but I can promise you, he doesn’t believe for a second that you failed him,” I reassure him, and he gives a small nod. Pushing myself off the desk, I shove my hands in my pockets and ask, “Why don’t you stay for lunch? Elliot’s going to come over with Boomer.”
“Uh, yeah, okay. Only if you’re sure?”
“Positive.” I nod once and smile. “You can help me get it ready.”
Blaine follows me back down the stairs and into the kitchen. O’Connor makes a shocked noise when he realizes who I’m with, scrambling to get up from the armchair.
“Hey, man,” he says, thrusting his hand out. “I’m a big fan.”
I point the packet of cheese at him. “No. None of that.”
Blaine chuckles. “Nice to meet you.”
O’Connor makes himself at home on the stool at the island while I get Blaine chopping up the lettuce for the wraps. I put the breaded chicken fillets in the oven, then make the sauce. By the time I’m done chopping up the fillets, Elliot walks through thestation doors with his hood up and coat zipper done up so high you can only see his nose and eyes.
Blaine snorts when he spots him. “Are you trying to be a snowman?”
“It’s fucking cold out there,” Elliot protests, then holds up his mitten-covered hand. “You can’t see, but I’m flipping you off.”
Boomer sniffs everything as Elliot walks toward the kitchen. He hands his brother the leash, then stands in front of me. I reach up and pull on the zipper of his coat down to his throat, then push off his hood. The top of his cheeks and nose are pink from the chill.
“Hi.” He smiles up at me.
“Hi,” I murmur, pressing a quick kiss to his lips.
O’Connor lets out a loud wolf whistle, and I raise my hand to flip him off without looking.
Elliot shakes off his mittens and removes his backpack and coat, then sidles up next to me. “Want my help?”
“No, I’m nearly done, but thank you,” I say, turning my head to give him another kiss before serving up the wraps. “O’Connor, go tell everyone lunch is ready.”
He salutes me, then jumps off the stool in search of the others.
We eat lunch around the table without any interruptions, then I leave the probie to tidy up. Blaine follows us as we walk around to the driver’s side of the rig, and I open the door.
“Wait, I have something,” Elliot says, handing me Boomer’s leash before jogging back toward the kitchen. He returns a minute later with a children’s plastic firefighter helmet.
“Here we go!” He holds it up, and I laugh.
“And you want him to wear that?” I ask.
“Yep.” He beams.
Shaking my head, I bend down and pick Boomer up. I climb the first step and put him behind the wheel. When I step down, Elliot lets out an excited squawk.
“Ahhh, so fucking cute,” he coos, climbing up to put the helmet on him.
