“He would,” Caleb muttered at the same barely there volume. “Fuckin’ smart-ass kid gaming the system.”
“But, speaking of Shep,” Jayne said as he worked. There was the sound of a serrated knife sawing through something, then another crinkle of plastic. “If anything goes wrong today, or if you have questions, or if Parker won’t settle down and you can’t figure out why, he’ll be here, and he’ll be able to help. I don’t know if he plans to stay in his room today or if he’ll come out to keep an eye on both of you, but if you find yourself in need, don’t hesitate to ask.” Cellophane crackled as it was tugged free from its roll, followed closely by the pitchedzipof a slide-cutter. “If Shep steps out or is otherwise inaccessible, you can always call Alex or Matthew. I know they’d be able to help.”
“Got it.” Caleb closed his eyes. The surface of his eyeballs burned. Allergies. It had to be. There was a reason he was a night owl—he was allergic to early mornings.
“And if you can’t get in touch with anyone, or if something very serious happens, you can call me.” Jayne manipulated the cellophane, likely wrapping whatever food he’d prepared. “I’ll have my cell phone on vibrate, and it’ll be with me all day. We’re not supposed to have them on us, but if the clinic doesn’t like it, they can suck my dick.”
Caleb, who disliked the thought of Jayne taking an Uber when he was in heat just in case the driver got any ideas, glowered. “If anyone sucks your dick,they’regoing to be the one with the problem.”
“Really? You sure you want to go there?” Jayne swatted Caleb’s back playfully on the way to the fridge. “I’ve got a bad history with growly overprotective cavemen who question my fidelity.”
“Yeah, I’m sure.” Caleb lifted his head and rolled his shoulders, willing himself to wake up. What he had to say felt important, and he didn’t want to botch its delivery. “There’s a difference between protective and possessive. I don’t want to keep you away from the rest of the world, but if anyone comes for you, you can bet your ass that I’m going to be there telling them to back the fuck down.”
From his place by the counter across the room, Caleb saw Everett smile. Gentle admiration perked the corners of his lips, and his eyes softened.
“I take care of the people in my life,” Caleb continued. He held Everett’s gaze, speaking as much to him as he was to Jayne. “I don’t make demands or set expectations, but when I’m needed, you can sure as hell bet I’m going to step up to the plate. So growly? Yeah. I’ll take it. Protective? Sure. Guilty as charged. But I will never make you feel like you’re less of a person because you’ve got a life to live that’s different than mine. I’m protective because I see the person you are, and I’d give anything to make sure that person stays safe and whole. This isn’t about shaping you to my will or changing you. It never was, and it never will be. I want you for you.”
The commotion by the counter stopped. Thin metal met countertop. Footsteps approached. Jayne wrapped his arms around Caleb’s waist and set his head on Caleb’s shoulder. Across the room, Everett smiled shyly and ducked his head to give Caleb and Jayne their privacy, engaging with Parker, who lay half-asleep in his arms. Color spread across his cheeks, reminding Caleb of the time when, cuddled up in bed together, Caleb had first confessed his love.
“You are one of the most wonderful men I’ve ever met,” Jayne whispered against the ridge of Caleb’s ear. “I’m so lucky to have you.”
“You deserve twice as much as I can give you.” Caleb wrapped his hand over Jayne’s, squeezing gently, while he kept his eyes on Everett. “Which is why I’m so glad Everett has you, too. What I feel, he feels. I know it. One of us just happens to be more of a loudmouth than the other.”
The smallest laugh, little more than a chuckled inhalation, was Jayne’s reply. He kissed Caleb’s jaw, then stepped away from the island to stand by Everett. Everett looked up when Jayne approached, his cheeks still flushed and his expression still soft. Jayne slid into place against his chest, and they held Parker between them.
“Daaa,” Parker cooed. One of his hands was anchored on Everett’s shirt, and the other reached out for Jayne. Jayne held it, then laid his head on Everett’s shoulder.
A nostalgic note sang from somewhere deep in the archives of Caleb’s heart, its sound sweet and mellow, like sunset on a mild spring day.
From the misshapen, jagged pieces that had once been their lives, Jayne had made something whole.
He’d made them a family.
If it meant six o’clock wake-up calls for the next forty years, so be it. Caleb meant what he’d said. No matter what, he’d take care of the people in his life—Everett, Jayne, Shep, and Parker included.
44
Caleb
Forty-five minutes later, Jayne and Everett were out the door, leaving Caleb and Parker alone. Parker, who’d clung to Everett until the very end, scrutinized Caleb with his deceptively innocent blue eyes. Caleb had set him up on the couch, using the corner where the arm met the backing and several carefully placed pillows to make sure Parker stayed safe. At his age, he likely didn’t need the support, but Caleb liked to be sure. It shouldn’t have been possible for a seven-month-old baby in a pair of shark-pattern shorts and a black t-shirt which proudly proclaimed “I’m Bitey” to look judgmental, but there was an exasperated, almost sarcastic edge to the way Parker studied Caleb that made Caleb think that he’d been sized up and deemed unworthy.
“I see you looking at me,” Caleb accused. “I know what you’re thinking.”
Parker’s eyes widened in shock. It may have been the first time in his life that anyone had called him out.
“Your dad told me to look out for you.” Caleb shook a finger playfully in Parker’s direction. Parker gawked at him. “I’m onto your tricks. He told me how you wrapped him around your little finger, so I know better than to—”
Parker burst into laughter. It was a wild, innocent kind of cackling that prompted Caleb to laugh, too.
“No! I’m not going to fall for it!” Caleb tried to choke down his mirth, but as hard as he tried, his shoulders still shook every now and then, and his throat tightened in what should have been a bark of laughter. “You can’t laugh me into submission.”
Parker laughed harder. Caleb lost it. He wiped tears from his eyes, then scooped Parker up from where he’d seated him and lifted him high into the air. Parker shrieked with glee and kicked his feet. How long had it been since Jayne had cut his nails? Caleb had learned the hard way with his brother’s youngest child, Penelope, that babies grew claws. Parker’s feet were weapons of mass destruction, and if Caleb wasn’t careful, he’d be their latest victim.
Accepting that Parker might shred him to death, Caleb swung Parker through the air from side to side. The more Parker laughed and shrieked, the less inclined Caleb was to return him to the couch. His original plan had been to set Parker up, tune into something on the television, and bide his time until Everett got back. Kids weren’t really Caleb’s bag. At least, they hadn’t been. Babies were fussy. They were a chore. They ate, and slept, and pooped, and screamed, and as they got older, they did all of that while learning to talk back. The thought of being a parent simultaneously scared Caleb and bored him to tears. At a younger age, he’d assumed that one day he’d fumble his way into fatherhood after a one-night stand gone wrong and come to enjoy childrearing out of necessity. That dream had crashed and burned after learning about his father’s IPF diagnosis, and since then, Caleb had done everything he could to keep himself from wanting to start a family.
But as long as he didn’t share his genes, there was nothing stopping him from raising a child who might one day call him Dad.
Parker, with his expressive blue eyes and chatty personality, was a good baby. He seldom cried, and while Caleb wasn’t exactly in the know about developmental milestones, he felt like Parker was doing an exceptional job at growing up. Plus, the kid was cute—cute enough that Caleb didn’t mind putting a load of dirty diapers and spoiled onesies in the wash, or cleaning up drool and other questionable fluids from the hardwood and the furniture. That was part of being a dad, wasn’t it?
