“If I’ve helped at all, man, I’m happy.” Cam figured that was maybe a platitude, but at the same time it was the truth. He wanted Mitch to know he was here of his own free will now, not because his mom had coerced him into it.
The longer Mitch stared at him, the more twitchy and hot he got around the collar, so he covered the tiny burst of confusion with pulling out bowls for separate little salads and grabbing all the shit out of the fridge to make them.
Mitch cleared his throat and started the pot of water to boil, but they kept bumping into each other, touching.
Bekka came thumping down the stairs, quite a feat for a young lady who was skinny as a rail. She was red-faced and scowling, holding an embroidery hoop, a needle, and thread. “Daddy, I need your help.”
“Okay, baby, what’s the matter?”
She burst into tears. “I can’t get the thing in the eye of the needle. I’m so mad.”
Mitch didn’t tense or tease; he went right to her, hugging her close. “Well, let’s figure this out. Don’t we have one of them threader things?”
“Threader thing?” She stared at him like he had two heads and was talking out of both mouths.
“You know, a thing that you thread your needle with?” Cam was trying to help. “It’s like a wire with a little silver dooly on it.”
“Right, one of them.” Mitch gave her a hopeful grin, and she stared at them both.
“Boys! You’re such boys. I just need this thread in the needle.”
Mitch pursed his lips, and Cam swore he could see smoke coming out of the man’s ears. “Okay, give me a piece of paper and a pair of scissors.”
Bekka put everything down on the kitchen table and then went to the desk, where she pulled out a piece of white paper and the huge pair of scissors that looked capable of spearing a moose.
“What are you up to, man?”
Mitch shot him a glance. “I’m fixing to make a needle threader.”
What? “How?”
“Same way we make everything else. Up. We make it up.” Mitch sat down at the head of the table, and it didn’t seem as painful this time. He cut a tiny little strip of paper and then folded it in half and stuck it through the eye of the needle.
“Okay. Now put the yarn you want in there.”
“It’s thread, Daddy.”
He rolled his eyes. “Put the thread you want in there, in the middle of the paper.”
She did and he slowly tugged it through, and Cam would be damned but he threaded that needle.
“Oh, Daddy! You so rock. Thank you.” She kissed his cheek and hugged him hard.
“You’re as welcome as flowers in May, baby. See, everything is going to be okay. Your daddy’s got this.” Mitch was pleased as all get-out. It was written all over his face.
Bekka kissed his cheek, then took her stuff and ran off, thread flapping from the needle as she went.
“That was quite a feat, Mitch. You’re her hero.”
“It’s not like she’s got anybody else.” He shrugged, his cheeks going pink. “I try real hard to make sure the kids have what they need.”
“And you do a great job. You really do. I know sometimes you don’t think so, especially right now, but I’ve seen you with them. They adore you.” Cam thought it was important to sort of prop Mitch up and make sure he knew how cool he was.
“Thanks.” Mitch bumped hips with him as he moved back to the stove. “I want to be their hero. I really do.”
Before he even realized he was moving, Cam reached out to take Mitch’s hand and turn him around to face him.
Mitch stared at him, his dark brown eyes wide, his lips parting, and Cam couldn’t resist. He had to bend down and kiss that mouth.
