Finally, Mitch stepped forward, extending his hand. “I’m Mitch,” he said, his voice as warm and kind as always. “This is my friend, Sully. He wanted to stop by.”
“To apologize,” Jamie rushed to add. He frowned, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I wasn’t in my right mind last night and I…I’m so sorry.”
“Papaaaaa!”
The toddler on the chair turned toward the tattooed man, small hands outstretched. Jamie felt himself smile at the round cheeks and brown hair that looked so much like the man standing in front of him. Then the kid caught sight of Jamie and Mitch, and his blue eyes went wide.
The man hoisted the kid up into his arms. “Hey kiddo,” he whispered, the softening of his voice matching the transformation of his face. “We’ve got some visitors.”
The boy smeared his hands across the man’s cheeks, leaving a trail of what looked like smashed bananas in their wake.
Before he realized what he was doing, Jamie reached for a rollof paper towels he saw on the counter. Tearing one off the roll, he handed it to the man, who took it from him. The man’s soft frown deepened, but he offered a quiet, “Thanks.”
“Hey, buddy,” Jamie said, turning his attention to the kid. He’d always wanted kids–he’d dreamed of coming home to a family like Mitch’s, of having a house full of shouting and laughter and toy trucks on the floor, of so much joy and chaos.
Unfortunately, in order to havethat, he needed to find a partner who’d sign up for a life with a professional hockey player who was gone for almost nine months out of the year.
Based on his dating experience since he’d started his career, that man didn’t exist.
The kid grabbed a handful of the man’s sweater. Jamie could barely make out his whispered words. “These guys are pretty big, Papa.”
Jamie stifled a laugh behind his hand. The tattooed man let out a soft breath that Jamie thought might be a laugh. “Yeah, they are.” To Jamie and Mitch, he said: “This is my son, Rowan.”
Mitch took a step closer, raising his hand in a wave. “Hi, Rowan. I’m Mitch.” He shot Rowan a conspiratorial grin. “Did you know, I’m actually a papa, too.”
“Papa, does he have a kiddo?” Rowan spoke against the man’s unshaved cheek, obvious excitement in his little voice.
Mitch smiled. “Three of them, actually. My daughter Stef is right about your size.”
“Wow.”
“Um.” Jamie cleared his throat, turning his focus to the tattooed man. “What’s your name?”
“Tyler.”
Tyler. Jamie’s eyes drifted shut for a moment. It was the perfect name for him–he couldn’t explain why, just that it fit the hard, challenging set of his jaw, the way his eyes watched them like he wasn’t sure if he was assessing a threat or not.
It fit the man who had all but melted when his son had called him ‘Papa.’
Jamie cleared his throat, clearing his thoughts. “Tyler,” he said, the name slipping from his lips on a heavy breath. “I’m sorry again for last night, for disturbing you and your life. There aren’t any excuses for my behavior. And thank you for taking me to the hospital. You didn’t have to do that, and…Well, thank you.”
“Is your head okay?”
“Yeah, it’s fine,” Jamie said, waving his hand dismissively. “Is there anything I can do to make things–”
“Hello, lovely people!” A willowy young woman wearing a rainbow beanie and a variety of patterned fabrics wrapped around her body swept into the cramped room.
“Morning, Annabeth,” Tyler said quietly.
“I’m so glad you’re entertaining visitors again,” she said, walking around Tyler to peer at the countertop. “A little sexual release will help with all of the…” She wrinkled her nose and waved her hand in front of Tyler’s face. “Gunk,” she finished.
“Papa, what’s sketchmule relief?”
Jamie watched Tyler’s face tighten. “Seriously, Annabeth,” he muttered. “These guys are…I don’t actually know who they are. Their names are Mitch and Sully.”
“Oh, hello,” the woman waved absently to them. “Your vibe is too corporate for my tastes, but the glasses and the mustache are nice.”
What the fuck was happening?Jamie felt like he was stuck in a bizarre dream.
