“I need to head home. Hannah needs some toys or she’ll riot—watching movies will only keep her occupied for so long—and I don’t have enough diapers,” I whispered to Spencer.
Hannah was sitting a few feet away from the television, headphones on and glued to it as she watchedThe Princess and the Frog. She loved so many of the Disney animations, but there was something special about seeing yourself represented in a movie. She’d been awestruck by Tiana and Mirabel fromEncantofrom the moment she’d seen them—movies where both our cultures were represented.
I turned my attention back to our patient. Brayden was stretched out on the sofa, one leg hanging off it and the other propped on the armrest at the other end. His head was resting in Spencer’s lap, their fingers interlaced. He had a cold pack over his eyes to block out the light from the television and outside, and Spencer was gently massaging Brayden’s scalp with his free hand. I loved the way they had their own special touches. It made me feel privileged to watch them together like this and to be on the receiving end of some of those same touches.
The way they dropped every one of their walls around each other was beautiful to watch. Spencer was calm and genuinely warm. He didn’t hiss or glare like he did with people he didn’t want to speak to. For Brayden, it was losing the cocky smartass attitude—he allowed himself to be vulnerable.
I brushed a stray scone crumb off Brayden’s blanket. He’d managed to get through some of it but preferred the buttered version than the one with jelly and cream. It didn’t surprise me, considering what Spencer had told me of his diet.
“Will you come back?” Spencer asked.
I frowned. I desperately wanted to be here to look after him, but I doubted it was in Brayden’s best interests. “I thinkit’s better I don’t. Brayden needs quiet, and Hannah’s loud.” I paused, thinking. I hadn’t called on Mom to pick Hannah up or look after her for a week. “I could call my mom and ask her to take Hannah today.”
“Bray would really like that. I know he’d want you here.”
“I would,” he mumbled.
I hadn’t realized he was awake. I stroked my thumb over his free hand and squeezed it gently. “Let me call Mom.”
I ducked into their bedroom and closed the door so I wouldn’t make too much noise and pulled up Mom’s number from my list of contacts.
It only rang once before she picked up. “Keeley, good to hear from you.”
“Hey, Mom.” We spoke for a few minutes, catching up on each other’s week, and then I asked, “I know you’re normally busy over the weekend, but if you’re not, can you take Hannah for the day?”
“Sure, honey, no problems. I’ll take her overnight. I can take her to church—”
“Our church?”
“Of course,” she reassured me.
I took Hannah to a gospel church whose congregation was predominantly Black, and at Mom’s suggestion, I’d joined her up to the toddler’s play group as well. It was one of the best things I’d done for Hannah. The church was so welcoming, and the pastor had been incredible in introducing me to community group leaders so I could ensure Hannah grew up with a rich cultural experience. Mom regretted not doing something like it when I was growing up, especially knowing now how much I wanted that connection with my Columbian heritage.
“What have you got going on? Is it anything exciting or work?” Mom asked, dragging me back to the present.
“Oh, um, one of the players is concussed, and his husband has asked me to stay and help look after him.”
“Stay?” Mom asked, a hint of excitement in her voice. Of course she latched onto that one word. My mother, the gossip queen. “You’re already at Brayden’s house?”
I sighed. I should have been more careful with my wording. “Yes, I’m already here at Brayden’s apartment.” I paused. “How do you know it’s Brayden who got hurt?”
“Ah, I watched the game,” Mom replied in a tone that told me just how stupid a question it had been. “I can’t believe they zoomed in on Spencer Clay when Brayden got hurt. He looked terrified. Is he as gorgeous as he looks in photos?”
“So gorgeous,” I breathed. “They both are.”
Mom squealed, and I winced, pulling the cell phone away from my ear. “Tell me the rumors about them being bisexual are true. Are you joining the throuple squad?”
I choked out a laugh, my eyebrows hitting my hairline. “The what?”
“Hux and Minns are both in throuple relationships, aren’t they? You need to be the next one.”
I hadn’t expected her to be up-to-date on everything the Seals, but of course my mom, the gossip queen, would know all the juicy relationship details of San Diego’s hottest.
“Mom,” I protested. “Aren’t you supposed to be outraged or something by that?”
“Why the hell would I be outraged? Have you seen what those men look like? I’d jump on that bandwagon so fast, people would think I’m Roadrunner with the tracks I’d leave. My God, you sound as old-fashioned as your father’s grandmother.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. The things that came out of my mother’s mouth shocked me some days. But it was no surprise she was so forthright.
