Before Ben can answer, his breathing evens out, and his body relaxes further into me as my little spoon.
I follow suit, closing my eyes and smiling into the dark room before drifting off to sleep, the smell of our scents mingling in the air.
Chapter Eighteen
__________
Jason
The snowflakes, fat and lazy, are adding to the blanket of white we woke up to this morning, making today’s playdate perfect for all the littles. I lean against the back porch banister, a mug of coffee cradled in my gloved hands. Ben and Caleb, the pint-sized whirlwinds, are already lying supine in the snow mid-angel.
"Daddy! Look!" Caleb shrieks, his voice a joyous squeak that cuts through the magic of the snowfall. He scrambles to his feet, leaving behind a slightly lopsided outline of his small frame.
“It almost looks as angelic as you, Peanut,” Barrett calls back from beside me as Caleb brushes the snow from his pants and coat before helping Ben to his feet.
“Yours, too,” Caleb tells Ben in his little voice. “It perfect.” Caleb helps brush the snow from Ben’s coat before pulling him into a hug, whispering something in his ear that makes him giggle.
Their innocence is heartwarming, and my insides melt as I watch the two of them, who are nearly the same height.
“How’s everything going?” Barrett asks, nudging my shoulder.
“It’s going well. Just glad Valentine’s Day is over so my students aren’t so hyped up on sugar this week,” I let out a laugh, but there is a lot of truth in that statement. Halloween and Valentine’s are the two holidays when the kids are hyper. They are at Christmas time too, but for a whole different reason.“How’s Ben settling in at the shop? Is Caleb getting the help he needs?”
“Ben is a lifesaver. Caleb already loves Ben like a brother. I have a feeling those two are going to become besties before we even know what hit us. They get along great, and the way they encourage each other at work is great to see. There is zero competition between them, with each one bringing their own strengths to the workroom.”
“That’s great,” I tell him, taking a sip from my steaming mug, and he does the same.
A loud raucous across the lawn draws our attention. “Oh, boy,” Barrett says, already setting his mug down and taking the stairs down off the wooden deck.
I set my mug down and follow.
Noah and Carlos, a dynamic duo whose energy output can power a small village, are attempting to build a snow fort, complete with…weapons made of ice? What the hell?
As I approach, I hear Marcus, Noah’s Daddy, talking to him. “You can’t have weapons around the littles. They don’t play rough like you two. You need to be careful, or we will be saying goodbye before the day even starts.”
“Carlos, you know better, too. This isn’t our home. You need to be respectful, or we’ll be leaving too.” Jasper adds.
Jasper is the owner of Club Pierre, and we all met through him in one way or another. He came in from the city for our little event. It’s been a while since we’ve seen him and Carlos. Noah is extra excited to have his friend back. They were roommates and best friends for a while until Carlos moved in with Jasper in Bedford City. They’re both middles and a little on the mischievous side.
“It’s not to attack the littles, Daddy,” Noah tells Marcus.
“Yeah, it’s to protect them from the dragons,” Carlos adds.
Both Marcus and Jasper give us a knowing look, indicating they’ll keep an eye on the two boys to ensure they play safely.
Behind us, we hear Kai sing, “I heeeere.”
“Yay!” Caleb and Ben call out in unison.
When I turn to look up at the deck where Shawn and Kai are standing, Kai is sparkling as bright as the snow. His tiara and sequined tutu are fit for a snow queen. He instantly runs down to the yard to join the other littles, holding hands, jumping in circles, and giggling.
“Sorry, we’re late,” Shawn tells us. “I had a late night with a delivery, and Kai was kind enough to let me sleep in.” He tells us. “I was not shocked to find that he already laid out his clothes for me to help him get dressed when I woke up.” He lets out an amused laugh just as a snowball hits me in the chest.
“Attack the dragon daddies,” a voice calls out, and before we can respond, two more snowballs fly our way. Only one makes contact against Shawn’s shoulder.
“Noah,” Marcus warns from across the yard.
“Sorry, Uncle Shawn,” Noah says, looking a bit sheepish, but his tone says he’s not sorry in the slightest.
