Something rustles inside the box.
I blink fast because my eyes are getting hot.
This one’s kind of a big deal.
This one’s going to need more from me than what I’ve had to give to anyone since Hudson left for college.
And I’m stupidly excited about it.
Ryker deposits the box in front of the boys. “I hate wrapping so I hid it instead,” he lies. “Merry whatever. Don’t be dicks.”
Griff snorts.
Hudson does too.
Ryker’s saiddon’t be dicksto them every single Christmas since he was fifteen, when he gave Griff a pie-in-the-face game and Hudson some game calledExploding Kittens.
He did it again the year after Mom and Dad died to keep the normalcy, and it’s stuck.
Eddie and Charlie both dive for the box.
“Don’t hit your heads together,” Lana yelps.
The box yelps back.
The boys gasp, and they switch to seamless, in sync motions to pull the lid off.
“It’s a puppy!” Charlie screams.
“Oh my god oh my god oh my god.” Eddie wipes his eyes. His chin is trembling. “Is this real? Is this really our dog?”
“Can’t have you stealing mine,” Ryker says dryly.
The boys look at Lana.
She nods.
They look at Simon.
He nods too.
They look at me, and my eyes get misty. “I’m backup when you need an extra hand with her,” I tell them.
“She’s a she?” Charlie lifts the pup out of the box, staring in wonder at the golden retriever puppy.
“She’s a she, and she’s your responsibility first and foremost,” Simon says.
“Can we name her Buttercup?” Eddie asks.
“You have to agree on a name, and you have to potty train her, and you have to take her on walks and pick up her poop,” Lana says.
“We’re gonna be the best dog dads.” Charlie’s voice cracks. “This is the best day of my life.”
Simon kisses my shoulder. “Thank you,” he murmurs.
“It’s the very, very,veryleast that I can do for you and them.”
Lana’s not ready for a dog, and Simon still travels a lot. So this is only possible because I convinced them both that I’d be the dog’s primary backup caretaker when I’m not traveling with Simon, and Ryker will cover when I’m gone.
