Page 27 of My Orc Package Deal

Milo sucked in a desperate breath, trying to match me. His exhale was shaky, uneven.

“That’s it,” I murmured. “A question and an answer, buddy. Like the drums. You got this.”

Another breath. Another exhale. His shoulders started to drop, just a fraction.

I stayed there, kneeling on the sand-covered blanket, my knee digging into the grit, one hand still on that damn sandwich. I didn’t look away from him. I didn’t rush him.

The world could wait.

Finally, his breathing evened out. The shaking slowed. He was still hiccupping, little aftershocks of the storm, but the worst had passed.

Without looking, I held out my free hand behind me.

A juice box landed in my palm.

I didn’t have to check to know Kesha had put it there. That she’d known exactly what I needed—what we’d needed. The rightness of it made my chest feel…warm in a way that had nothing to do with my Kteer.

I offered the juice to Milo. “Here.”

He took it with trembling hands, lifting the straw—of course Kesha had already punctured the box in preparation—to his mouth. He sucked on it like a lifeline.

I let go of the sandwich and shoved it back into the cooler. I’d eat it later. Or Jay would inhale it. Didn’t matter.

“I’m sorry,” I said again, softer this time. “All I made was ham and cheese, Milo. But you could have extra chips.”

“Or you could have a ham and cheese,” Jay offered, his voice a little tentative. He was still watching his new brother with wide, uncertain eyes. “Dad makes them really good.”

Milo pulled the straw from his mouth with a pop. “I—I guess. I dunno. I like chips.”

Not wanting to press him, I figured chips for lunch would be fine, just this once. I grabbed a bag from the cooler and held it out.

He took it with a shaky hand. “Thanks, Dad.”

The word hit me like a full-body check from my youngest brother.

Dad.

I rocked back on my heels, my breath catching in my throat.

Milo called me Dad.

Kesha swooped in, taking over the lunch distribution like she was used to tag-teaming with me, handing Jay another sandwich, passing around napkins. She was moving fast, trying to smooth over the moment, but I couldn’t move.

Dad.

I stood slowly, my legs unsteady, my chest a tangled mess of pride and worry and something so fierce it felt like it might crack me open.

From her knees, Kesha turned to look up at me. Her eyes were bright, a little damp at the corners, and when she saw my face, she grinned.

It wasn’t a small smile. It was approval. It was relief. It was thank you and we did that together, and I felt it in my stomach. In my chest.

I nodded, still too overwhelmed to speak. I could barely breathe—that sensation of almost that came when a loud song finishes and leaves the space ringing.

Her grin widened.

And slowly, my lips curled in response.

A family.