Cruz fully understood the nature of Bo and Lucky’s relationship, so if he approved of Bo…
Words barely a murmur, Cruz said, “You’ll both make good fathers. Tell me the two of you will keep the baby. If you don’t want him, I’ll do what I can, but—”
But no promises. Fuck. “Bo wants to, but how will that look? Like Bo taking advantage of a victimized woman. He’s already debating whether or not to contest the claim. There’s a big-assed moral issue here.”
“He won’t contest.” Cruz sounded so sure. “As for the details, you have powerful friends. ‘Nuff said.”
In this case, chalking up another debt to Nestor Sauceda might be worth the risk.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Bo stopped further conversation by being asleep when Lucky went to bed. Or if he wasn’t actually asleep, he certainly put on a good show, sprawled out, snoring.
Lucky shifted Bo’s leg over to give himself room to get under the covers, then laid Bo’s arm over his chest. Just because Bo slept didn’t mean Lucky didn’t want to touch him.
He lay in the dark, the ceiling fan paddles spinning in lazy circles over his head. How many times had he stared at those rotating blades, unable to sleep while puzzling out what to do?
A lie. A big, fucking kind of lie he’d expect to see on South Bend Springs.
If they went through with the plan Yolanda set into motion, Bo would be taking a child that wasn’t his. If they didn’t, the poor kid might spend the next eighteen years in foster care. Over the years Lucky had witnessed kids thrown into the system, to be tossed out at age eighteen.
Eighteen was too damned young to be out on their own, and many wound up in trouble, or victims of predators.
Or, like the men he’d met in prison, they lost their way in life without guidance.
Alejandro wouldn’t be a statistic. He’d grow up in a loving home, given all he needed and taught how to get along in the world. If he needed surgery, he’d get surgery, with worried parents hovering over his bedside while he recovered.
Birthdays, Christmases, happy childish laughter.
Well, damn. Too many times in the past, rushing into situations without weighing all sides led to trouble. Lucky had pretty much made up his mind earlier, and thinking things through logically didn’t change his opinion.
Two fathers, an aunt, cousins, and a whole lot of other people would love the kid too. The loving group who should have been there eagerly awaiting his birth. There might be hell to pay, but some things were worth fighting for. The path ahead wouldn’t be easy. No one promised him easy. And he’d rather be up Shit Creek without a paddle and have Bo at his back than be with anyone else anywhere.
He owed the same to his partner. No, his husband, though they’d not made any public vows. They didn’t need to. They made vows to each other every single day, with actions, not words.
“Lucky? You awake?” Bo murmured through a yawn.
No use lying. “Yeah. Got too much on my mind to sleep.”
Bo shot upright in the bed, nearly taking half of Lucky’s chest hair from his arm being sweat-plastered to Lucky’s pecs, and turned on the bedside lamp. “I’m sorry to bring you into this. I mean, if we do the right thing, we’ll break the law, and if we do what the law says, we’re risking—”
Lucky blew out a breath, pulled Bo down, and shut him up with a kiss.
“Mmmmmphhhh!”
Lucky kissed Bo until he stopped trying to talk. “Bo.”
“But Lucky…”
A hand over the mouth gave Lucky a chance to get a few words in. “Bo, do you want this kid?”
Eyes impossibly wide, Bo slowly nodded.
Lucky dropped his hand.
“But we…”
Amazing how fast Lucky replaced his hand. He sat up, putting himself nose to nose with the most wonderful person in the universe. “Bo, you had my support without even asking. It took a little bit to sink into my hard noggin. It’s a lot to take in, ya know?” Lucky planted a kiss on Bo’s nose. Yes, this was the right thing to do. The only possible choice. Already the heavy iron weight in his chest lifted. Lucky’s heart never felt this light before when he considered breaking laws—or bending them. “Now, what does Guatero mean?”
