Sam immediately stepped forward to take care of the infant, but he’d been initially rejected on appearance alone. Sam was a lot like the twins—incredibly large and intimidating with bulging musclesfrom the sheer amount the guy worked out, most of his skin covered in ink, but the real kick in the balls was that he’d been officially turned away due to his disability. The original case-worker had rejected Sam’s petition to take the little girl in because she wasn’t convinced he would be capable of giving a baby the care she needed while also using a wheelchair.
For Sam, he’d been paralyzed for longer than he’d been walking. At fifteen, he and his friends had gone for a joy-ride in a truck, the driver having a little too much to drink. It ended with the truck rolling down an embankment and Sam waking up days later being told he’d never walk again.
He was thirty-six now, and ran a successful company providing classes for rehabilitation centers, private fitness lessons, and his absolute favorite, Wheelchair Zumba which he taught every Saturday before starting his late afternoon shift at Irons and Works. Sam was only a part time artist, but he was a full-time family member to each of them, and when they’d heard about his rejection, the entire studio banded together to ensure Sam would get this little girl.
Maisy had been living with him for three years now, and he was finally allowed to petition for her adoption since Sam’s cousin hadn’t come forward to claim her. Derek had not only been one of Sam’s closest confidants in the whole mess, but he’d been labeled unofficial babysitter since Maisy seemed to like him best of everyone. A badge he wore proudly—even if it did get his ass up out of bed at six in the goddamn morning.
“What do you need?” Derek asked, swinging his legs over the bed and scrubbing a hand down his face.
“Can May come stay at your place for a bit? They want to do another invasive inspection and I don’t want her here while they riffle through my shit and force me to take however many steps on my walker.”
Derek felt his teeth grin together, and he forced himself to take a few calming breaths. “Of course, man. I’ll come pick her up so youdon’t have to worry about transport.” Standing up, he groaned at the unexpected tension in his limbs. He always felt like this after a panic attack, but he hadn’t realized how bad it would be that morning. “Shit.”
“Der?” Sam asked softly. “What happened?”
“God, it’s the longest story in the world,” he confessed, shuffling to his bathroom to dig around for his scope and tooth brush. “I’ll happily spill everything once this stupid song and dance is over.”
“How about I bring lunch when I come to pick up May-Day?” he offered. The phone went muffled, and Derek could just make out the sound of Sam cooing Maisy awake, which made him grin as he stuffed his toothbrush into his mouth and began to scrub.
“Whatever you get, make it good. And fried, preferably. That one deli over on ninth with the falafel I like? That place isn’t shit for you to get in and out of, right?”
“Nah, it’s good. Plus, it’ll give me a chance to go flirt with Abram. It’s been a while,” Sam said, a grin in his voice. “I’ll throw some frozen waffles into May’s bag so you don’t have to worry about her breakfast, alright? She’s…having a thing right now about cooked food.”
Derek chuckled softly. “Got it. Give me fifteen and I’ll be there.” He hung up without saying goodbye, then wriggled into his too-tight jeans and a ratty old t-shirt that was damn-near see-through from too many washes. It felt good though, comfortable, the way he should feel in his own skin. He glanced at his reflection and sighed, dragging a heavy hand through his hair in a vague attempt to order the mess.
He slipped into his work boots, leaving them untied, then hurried down the stairs to find his car. It was a little damp from the leftover rain, but he’d managed to remember getting all four windows closed, so he called that a small victory considering what a mess he’d been by the time he got home.
It was only ten minutes to Sam’s place, a little ground-floor townhouse in a neighborhood mostly filled with old, middle-class white couples who oddly enough loved the inked-up guy in the sporty wheelchair. It helped that Sam liked to take his dog out for a stroll every morning, and his obnoxiously sweet Schnauzer loved the attention from the old folk. It also helped that Sam was a freakishly good baker and tended to win the hearts of most people around him. He’d managed to amass a group of sweet little old grandmas for Maisy, so the girl was never without cheek-pinches, hard candies, and love.
Derek was always amazed that Sam hadn’t been snatched up already. Sam wasn’t a socially awkward, panicked mess the way he was. He was bright and gorgeous and made even the surliest strangers fall half in love. But then again, it was probably the fact that Sam had a schedule which didn’t compromise itself with anyone. Work, the shop, and Maisy—not in that order.
All the same, Derek was jealous. If he had even a fraction of Sam’s charm, he might have walked away with more than a vague memory of Basil’s hand on his chest, and the echo of his laughter, and the ghost of that intensely floral scent in his memory bank. He would have been brave and a little reckless and would have done more than just offer a quick sign of thanks before running off like a goddamn coward.
This was why he was going to die alone, surrounded by cats who probably wouldn’t want to eat him even if they were starving.
Chasing away his weird melancholy, Derek hauled himself out of the car and trudged up to the front door, tripping a little over the edge of the ramp but righting himself before he smashed into the door. It would be just his luck to break his nose right before trying to show he was a responsible caregiver and friend, and he straightened his shoulders in some pathetic attempt to look like he had his life together. Yes, I am fine, please trust me with your child.
He didn’t bother knocking—none of the family did—and he stepped into the foyer. He turned the first corner to find Sam sitting on the floor, packing up Maisy’s little Moana backpack as she played with her dollhouse a few feet away from him.
He glanced up when Derek entered and frowned. “Why do you look like someone just killed your fish?”
“First of all, I’ve only ever had a fish once in my life,” Derek said as he slid down to the floor next to Sam, “and Sage murdered them when he got stoned and decided to share his Oreos. Secondly…it’s been a really fucking bad twenty-four hours.”
Sam’s brows dipped low in a frown and he pushed his hands to the floor to adjust his position so he could face Derek a little better. “Your dad?”
Derek dragged a hand down his face. “That was part of it. But don’t tell Sage, okay? That old fuck has been leaving him out of it—I mean honestly, I’m not sure he even remembers there’s two of us, and I’d like to keep it that way.”
Sam pursed his lips, but he didn’t argue which Derek decided to take as a win. “The rest of it?”
“Oh, just your basic run of the mill bullshit. Wrenched my arm at the shop, some woman came in freaking out because she decided her tattoo was wrong six weeks after I finished it, then my dad called to tell me what a useless homo I am. Uh…and then I turned into disaster human last night after I got trapped in this ATM kiosk thing and had a claustrophobic meltdown.” He didn’t want to admit the whole story, but Sam knew him better than that.
“A vestibule? How the fuck did you get trapped in one?”
Derek leaned his head back against the sofa cushions, groaning. “I went in to make my deposit last night because I had a bunch of shit getting ready to clear, and I had almost all cash clients this week. Right after I got my receipt, lightning hits something nearby and the power just goes out. There’s some auto-lock mechanism on the door because it fucking locked me inside and shut everything down.”
At that, Sam reached for him like he couldn’t help it, his hand falling on Derek’s shoulder with a tight grip. “Why didn’t you call one of us?”
“I left my phone in the car,” Derek said with a sigh. “It was pissing rain and it was bad enough my entire everything got soaked.And anyway, if I had any idea that shit auto-locks I would have taken it with me.”
