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Even after Colby was settled under his blanket in the darkened room, Luke didn’t leave. He couldn’t. He sat in the armchair where he read Colby his books and watched his son wiggle and stretch and eventually drift off. He watched his son’s chest rise and fall in the steady pattern of sleep. He watched him twitch and huff like he was already dreaming.

He didn’t know how long it took him to realize Syrus was standing in the half-open doorway, watching Luke just as Luke was watching Colby. Syrus had exchanged the blanket for another pair of Luke’s sweats and predictably left off the shirt. Luke gestured for him to come sit, but Syrus didn’t step into the room. Something crossed his fierce gaze instead, something almost…fearful.

Maybe Luke wasn’t the only one traumatized by recent events.

Luke stood and went to his merman. Without a word, he dragged Syrus to his own bedroom and tugged him onto the bed, over the covers. Luke curled up into Syrus’s side and closed his eyes.

Colby wasn’t the only one who needed a nap.

Luke woke sometime later to Syrus still holding him, sitting upright with his back against the headboard, his eyes open as he stared blankly at the wall. Just as he’d been doing when Luke had drifted off.

Luke cleared the lingering sleep from his throat. “We’re okay, you know,” he said softly. “We’re safe.”

Syrus glanced down at him, but he didn’t speak. Didn’t agree or disagree. Didn’t tease or cajole or demand something ridiculous.

“Syrus.” Luke reached up and palmed Syrus’s cheek, bringing his head down closer. “The danger has passed. You took care of it.”

Syrus’s jaw clenched, the muscles shifting under Luke’s hand. When he spoke, it was low and soft, almost too quiet to hear. “I put you in danger.”

Luke stared at him. The silence and tension made sense now. It wasn’t wariness over any continued threat or lingering fear over what had transpired.

It was guilt.

Luke shuffled upright until he was seated next to Syrus, facing him with his knees pressed to Syrus’s thigh. “Hey,” he soothed. “It’s not your fault.”

“It is,” Syrus insisted. “I brought him into your life. Into Colby’s life. I was arrogant. Cocksure. I barreled my way into your home with no thought to consequence.”

They were thoughts Luke had entertained before. Not of Syrus’s potential fault in this last disaster, but the other parts…sure. Of course. Arrogantly barreling past hesitations and consequences was kind of Syrus’s thing.

And Luke had clearly decided somewhere that none of it qualified as a deal-breaker. “I like your arrogance,” he said mildly.

Syrus made an anguished noise low in his throat. “Colby could have been hurt.”

“But he wasn’t.” Luke tilted his head, making sure to catch Syrus’s gaze. “You did what you said you would do: you protected us. And if anyone ever comes for us again, threatens us again—you’ll do whatever you have to. I trust you to keep us safe.”

Syrus gave a reluctant nod, but some terrible emotion still lurked in his eyes. Sorrow, maybe. Resignation.

Was he thinking of walking away?

Luke’s stomach plummeted. Before he knew what he was doing, he rose onto his knees and tossed a leg over Syrus, straddling his thighs. He set his hands on Syrus’s shoulders and glared at him with all the intensity he could muster.

“You know, before you came here, I was happy enough. I didn’t need some cocksure merman busting his way into my life.”

Syrus’s jaw clenched, like he was tempted to rise to that challenge. But he continued to bite his tongue, so Luke went on.

“But I couldn’t say I was completely fulfilled. It was like…like every decision I made was centered around my son and his welfare, with no thought to myself. I made our lives small and safe and routine. And I love my son, and I love putting him first, but I also want…” Luke shook his head. He wasn’t used to big speeches. “I just want. I want what you bring into my life. Your flirting, your touch, the way you’re so eager to take care of us both. I want to keep that. I want the magic you promise just by existing. I want that for me and Colby.” He poked his finger into Syrus’s broad chest. “Yes, you barreled your way in. But you’re here now, so you better fucking stay. Understand?”

Syrus’s lips twitched, his eyes crinkling in the corners as the sorrow and resignation melted away. “Yes, dear Luke,” he said solemnly. “I understand.”

“Good.” Luke gave a sharp nod. “Then kiss me, damn it.”

28

LUKE

Luke held his breath as Syrus cupped his face with his large hands. He let it out as Syrus leaned in slowly—so slowly—and brought his lips to Luke’s.

The kiss was tender, almost tentative. Like for all Luke’s words, Syrus was unsure of his welcome. Luke kept his mouth soft and open and inviting. He darted his tongue out, teasing at Syrus’s bottom lip.