“Who are we gonna call? Ghostbusters?” Lucas asked. “Duke closed their parapsychology department and most other facilities are quacks.”
“True but the Rand Research Center focuses on parapsychological phenomena. I could reach out to them and see if anyone could help,” August said. “They go about everything with rigorous scientific standards.”
“I’ve tried to teach him how to shield himself from unwanted images, but I don’t know how to teach him not to see dead people,” Lucas said, pressing his temple to August’s cheek. “This parenting thing is so hard.”
“We know there are legitimate mediums out there. They find ways to guard their peace and we’ll find a way to do that for him too.”
“And in the meantime?” Lucas asked. “Do we let them terrorize him?”
“Of course not,” August said, pressing a kiss to Lucas’s jaw. “We’ll talk with Cricket and make a schedule. He crawls into bed with someone every night anyway. We’ll just make sure he’s not sleeping alone until we find a way to help him.”
“I would kill for an uneventful Christmas,” Lucas said. “Just once.”
“Who should we kill?” August teased. “Give me a name, I’ll have their teeth on a necklace for you before sun up.”
Lucas’s heart did a little dance behind his ribs. “You sure do have a weird idea of romance, professor.”
August buried his face into Lucas’s neck, pressing his words into his skin. “You seem to like my weird idea of romance, Mr. Blackwell.”
Lucas bit back a small moan, tilting his head to give his husband better access. “That’s because it usually involves more sex and less murder.”
August’s breath puffed against his skin. “Once the kids are in bed, I can make that happen.”
“We still have to shower, and we have papers to grade and I have to finalize our plans for the hotel for our trip.”
August moved to nibble at the shell of his ear. “How about we get the kids into bed, have a quickie in the shower, order cheesecake for dessert and grade papers together? I’ll have the travel agent confirm trip plans in the morning before my ten o’clock class tomorrow.”
“Fine, but tonight, I’m doing you,” Lucas murmured, turning to capture his husband’s lips in a lazy kiss.
“Come tuck us in!” One of the twins shrieked.
Lucas sighed. “Duty calls.”
“Don’t worry, Cricket promised we’ll have plenty of alone time at the hotel in Switzerland,” August said between kisses. “I promise I’ll make it up to you.”
“I’ll hold you to that, professor.”
“I certainly hope so, Mr. Blackwell.”
JERICHO
Since having kids, Jericho was prepared for almost anything when he came home. Most evenings were pretty tame. He’d find Atticus cooking in the kitchen and the kids sitting on the couch or at the counter either coloring or playing on their Switch’s. Sometimes, if Freckles was truly at his wits end, he’d let them watchBlueyor some other kid-friendly cartoon. Most of the time it was organized chaos.
Mostof the time.
Like anyone with kids, they had their moments. Grilled cheese in the Playstation. Sure. Waterboarding a Cabbage Patch doll with their cousins. Manageable. Coating themselves in Vaseline. Fine. Licking the windows. Less fine, but better than licking the cat so…little victories. Having kids was amazing, everything Jericho had ever wanted, really. He had the perfect family.
That said, having little humans around was kind of…gross and surprisingly sticky. Kids were far more unpredictable than any criminal Jericho had ever encountered. Atticus handled the ick much better than Jericho. He said doctors couldn’t afford to be squeamish. Jericho did his best to assist with the other things. Laundry. Cleaning. Bath time. Vigilante justice.
That was all him.
Atticus liked to tease him. He couldn’t understand how Jericho could rip someone’s teeth or toenails out with pliers but got faint watching his husband remove a lego from Jagger’s nose with an alligator clamp. Jericho didn’t understand it either. He could wade through blood but one well-timed juicy sneeze could have his stomach heaving. Still, he did his best to rally through bathroom atrocities, nightmares, panic attacks, all manner of counselors.
But for as long as they’d had children, Jericho had never come home to a totally silent house. Until today. It was so eerily quiet that Jericho found himself practically tiptoeing inside like he was breaking into his own house. He frowned when he saw that the house wasn’t empty. Nobody was speaking. They didn’t even move to greet him. In fact, for a full minute, nobody acknowledged him at all.
The Christmas tree was lit, the orange, gold and silver decorations gleaming beneath the white lights. Holiday music played softly on the surround sound and, thanks to their brand new air freshener, the house smelled like butter cookies. It was warm and cozy, but his family lookedanything but.
His husband sat on the larger part of their sectional, wearing a pair of black pajama pants and one of Jericho’s hoodies. Just the sight of his husband stirred something in him. He somehow still hadn’t noticed Jericho there, maybe it was that he had his head cradled in his hands, the heels of his palms dug into his eyeballs.
