I turned off the tap when the water had reached the right level, and double-checked the temperature. Rounding up Libby was next. She was standing on her bare feet, sans clothes, sporting just her diaper while gripping the side of my bed.
“Hey, cheeky girl. What are you up to?”
She angled her head in my direction, her mouth forming a smile. “Da Da.”
That never got old. Every time she said my name, my heart became fit to burst. I’d never known it was possible to love another human being to the extent that I did Libby, and every day, it managed, somehow, to grow that little bit more. I had no idea how that was even possible.
“Come on then. Bath time.”
Bath time was never a hardship. She loved them. Yeah, the bathroom always ended up looking like a mini tsunami had occurred, but her happiness while splashing around was worth the cleanup.
“Ba, ba.” With her knees bobbing up and down, she squealed.
“Yep, bath time. Come on then, baby girl. Bath, then bed.”
By this point, she’d angled herself to grip the bed with just one hand and was fully facing me. And then, holy shit, she did it. She released her death grip and took a step forward, then a second, and a damn third and fourth, squealing in delight the whole way before she toppled over on her ass.
Wide-eyed and heart pounding, I’d stood there transfixed, too overwhelmed to cheer her on or react beyond the grin I shot her way. I raced toward her, dropped to my knees, and pulled her into my arms, raining kisses on her face and blowing a raspberry on her neck.
“Da Da.” She tapped my face and wriggled in my arms. I held on tighter for the barest of moments, wanting her to feel every ounce of my love and pride. And then, reluctantly, I set her down. She gripped my hands and then released, and I was sure if she could speak, she’d be telling me to get the hell out of her way so she could carry on. Independent to the core, my Libby had known her own mind from day one. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
I edged out of her way and got to my feet, creeping backward to give her room to walk. If she fell, or likely, when she fell, there was nothing around to injure her. After five stops, stumbles, and restarts, she was finally in the bathroom, butt naked and happily splashing around.
Kneeling on the floor beside the bath, I played with her, some of her toys, and the water until I was soaking wet and her eyes had become glassy. “Come on then, buttercup. Out we come.” When she was tired was the only time she held out her arms to get out of the bath. “Ready for some milk?”
“Boc boc.”
I wrapped her in a large towel and carried Libby to her room. While she seemed less grumbly than I imagined she had been for Carter and Tanner, I still expected she’d have a difficult night, so once she was in her sleep clothes, I rubbed some teething gel on her gums and gave her some more pain relief. I then sat down with her in my arms, and she drank from her bottle. As she did so, I stroked her whisper-soft hair from her forehead and smiled as her eyes drooped and her suckling slowed.
I was lucky to have Libby. Nothing about parenting had come easily or exactly naturally, but she made every single moment, the wonderful and the terrifying, worth it.
Finally asleep, I lowered her into her crib, turned on the baby monitor, and headed to the kitchen. I stared around the quiet room, feeling strangely at a loss. With Libby already in bed and not being well, unease thrummed through me. I rolled my eyes at myself as I pulled out some ingredients to make a simple pasta dish, frustrated that a break in routine shook me. It wasn’t like life was monotonous, per se, but having a quiet house earlier than usual and being on tenterhooks that Libby would be unsettled through the night made my home feel kinda off.
I chopped a few veggies and fried them up, putting the pasta on to boil. My phone weighed heavily in my back pocket, the urge to reach out to Scott niggling at me. With a bemused sigh, I pulled it out and opened my messaging app. After hesitating for the barest of moments, I typed out a quick message.
Me: Hey, did you manage to catch up with your sister?
I watched small bubbles appear and stared at them expectantly, casting a quick look at my cooking food.
Scott: Yeah, thanks. Saw the kids too. I think I convinced her to come over for a few days to visit. Yeah, not quite sure if that’s a good thing or not.
Me: Why not? The whole coming out thing?
I didn’t even falter as I typed out the words. I assumed that was his reasoning, so I figured it best just to come right out and ask him.
The bubbles were back.
Scott: Lol. Yeah, the whole “coming out” thing. *insert eye roll* It’s fine though. She’s the one person who I know loves me despite… yeah, despite it all.
I breathed heavily through my nose as I took that in and switched off the stove. It was no good, I had to call him. I hated texting at the best of times, and a conversation like this needed a little more care. There was too much that would be left unsaid.
As I drained the pasta, I hit Call. It rang three times before he answered. “Contemplate not picking up?” I asked without preamble, sure he could hear the amusement in my voice.
A chuckle reached me. “Maybe. Then I figured there was no getting out of the call, so I thought, screw it.”
I grinned widely, placing my pasta in a bowl. “Good call. So, what’s the despite bullshit?”
He was quiet a beat. “You caught that, huh?”
I spooned the sauce on my pasta, took it to the bench, and sat on one of my high stools. “Sure did.” I left it at that, leaving him room to speak.
After a small sigh, he said, “I was going to say despite me being gay, and I may have considered tagging ‘and an asshole’ on the end of that.”
I grinned widely at the latter. “I can imagine it takes someone special to forgive your asshole ways for sure.” My gut tightened at my words, knowing full well him being an asshole was no longer on my radar. I knew him well enough already to be sure he was a decent guy who was trying to make a life for himself. “I have to ask though, man, why is being gay tagged to despite?”
In truth, I knew why. That didn’t mean I liked him thinking it, and I sure as hell didn’t like him believing it.
I heard movement before he spoke. “I know it makes no sense, and I know it shouldn’t matter, and hell, I’m trying my hardest above all else to make sure it doesn’t matter to me, but there are too many people in the world who are bigoted dipshits.” He snorted. “What’s worse, I think I could vomit because of the way I treated Carter because he’s gay.”
I pressed my lips together, wanting to interrupt, but I sometimes even shocked myself and had moments when I knew to keep my trap shut. This was one of them. He needed the floor.
“At the time I was saying and doing those things, I knew. Not even deep down. The knowledge was fresh and clear, and I was freakin’ terrified that he’d know somehow that I was gay too.” His laugh was disjointed, and I wasn’t sure if it was forced or simply one of disbelief. “How stupid is that? I’m an intelligent guy. Shit, I’m a vet for Christ’s sake, but still, honest to God fear whiplashed through me as soon as I found out he was gay.” There was a pause before he said, “I was one of those bigoted shits. Who does that?”
His heavy breaths traveled through the line, his emotions riding him if the shake in his voice was anything to go by. Sure he was finished, I started in the way I always did. “You were a dickhead.” A burst of laughter from Scott made me smile. “The truth… you’re not, nor were you, bigoted. You were terrified, naïve, and yeah, a little moronic with your thinking and how you handled the situation, but it’s time to fuck that all off and move on.”
“As easy as that?” His voice dipped lower, as if he truly wanted the answer, the solution.
“Yeah, as easy as the hardest thing you’ll ever do in your life.” I grinned as I spoke. “Did you mean anything that you said to Carter or about him, or hell, any other person you’ve come across who wasn’t straight?”
Scott cleared
his throat. “Well, Carter did look ridiculous that one time when I saw him doing this random booty shake with Lauren in the staffroom.” His voice sounded lighter as he continued. “But no,” he said with a sigh, “everything was for show, to create an idea, to save face, and to, I don’t know, distract him from noticing me.”
“And are you different now because you’ve admitted to yourself, to me, to Carter that you’re gay?”
“I’m a bit disappointed, actually.” I was sure he was smirking.
“Oh yeah?”
“I was expecting to all of a sudden know how to dress sharper, to wake up and have good hair, hell, to… I don’t know—”
“You have great hair,” I admitted easily, having spent too much time wondering what it would feel like under my hand when I gripped his head to kiss the crap outta him. “And you know I’m fresh out of BS stereotypes, so I’m not filling in the blanks.”
He laughed. “You like my hair?”
“Concentrate. We’re talking about you. Answer the goddamn question.” I attempted to throw some sternness into my voice, but I wasn’t sure how convincing I was.
“Fine.” He seemed to sober a little. “Other than being terrified, but in a different way, I feel lighter… happier…?”
“Did you cringe when you said that?”
With a snort-laugh, he said, “Seriously, are you watching me right now? Do you have a camera trained on my bedroom window or something?”
My eyes narrowed and my voice dropped. “You’re in bed.”
“Concentrate.” Laughter followed as he threw my words back at me. “Yes, there was cringing. I sound like a dick for saying it aloud, but there you have it. I’m shitting bricks but smiling when I’m doing it, apparently. But other than that, I’m fundamentally the same. My beliefs are the same. I suppose with the exception being I’ll never lash out at someone again in a warped attempt to save myself.”
I closed my eyes at that and breathed lighter and a little easier. He’d get there. He was so damn close. I opened my eyes and stared down at my untouched food. “So your sister, when is—” Libby’s cries filled the room through the monitor. “Shit. It’s Libby.”
“She okay?”
My heart did a weird palpitation thing when I heard the concern in his voice. “Sort of. She’ll be fine. She has a fever and has been sick. She’s teething.” I stood as I spoke and headed toward her room.
“Is there anything I can do?”
“Nah. I was just about to eat, but that’s already gone cold and will taste like crap.” I sighed. “We’ll be fine. I’ll settle her down and just head to bed or something, try and get some sleep when I can.”
“You need to eat.”
That erratic beat spasmed once more in my chest. Concern. Someone looking out for me who wasn’t obliged to. “Honestly, I’ll be fine. I won’t be at work tomorrow, so I can recoup and look after my girl should she have a bad night.” With my hand on the door handle to her room, I said, “Thanks, man, but I’ve gotta go. I’ll catch up with you later, yeah?”
“Sure. I hope Libby feels better.”
After we said goodbye, I tucked my phone away and stepped into Libby’s bedroom. She lay in her crib sounding utterly miserable.
“Come on, pretty girl.” I scooped her up, and she immediately placed her head on my shoulder, obviously exhausted, sobbing a little quieter. I hushed her, reached for the high cabinet in her room, and pulled out the teething gel. It was still too soon for more medicine. I sat with her in the soft chair in her room and took in her teary face. She looked back at me, her bottom lip sticking out, and sniffled. Her tears were settling, but the stray one still broke my heart. God, I hated it when she was so upset.
I maneuvered her so I could open the gel, then rubbed some into her gums. She was definitely cutting two teeth. “Better than going through this another time by doing them double-whammy, right.” She continued to sniff as I spoke, allowing me to rub her gums without a struggle. Once done, I placed her against my chest, her favorite position for settling and drifting off, and she snuggled against me.
I started singing her a lullaby, completely off-key and making up the words halfway through as I was useless at remembering lyrics. No doubt she’d give me shit for it when she got older, but at eleven months, I could get away with it for a little longer.
After about twenty minutes, and too many weird songs later, her breathing settled, her sobs completely gone. I eased out of the chair and placed her gently in the crib. After tucking her in and placing her blankie next to her, I double-checked her monitor was still set and headed out. As soon as I closed the door, my text alert pinged, and I froze. I listened to see if Libby stirred, knowing I was so lucky it had gone off now rather than when I was settling her.
Opening the text, I grinned, seeing it was from Scott.
Scott: I didn’t want to knock, but there’s something on your porch. Be sure to eat it while it’s hot. I hope Libby feels better.
What the hell?
I headed to the door, careful not to bound down the staircase and make a heap of noise. As I tugged open the door, I saw Scott’s car pull away and watched his lights disappear as he turned the corner of my street. When I glanced around my porch, my gaze quickly landed on the brown paper bag. I grinned, my curiosity piqued and my stomach somersaulting.
I didn’t open the bag until I was in the kitchen. Noodle soup. Scott had brought me soup so I wouldn’t go to bed on an empty stomach. It was crazy sweet. What the hell was I meant to do with that gesture apart from swoon and fall for the idiot even more? Screw a quick kiss. Scott was going to be mine.
Chapter Twelve
SCOTT
Bright morning sun filtered through my uncovered window and for once made me smile. Rather than duck under the covers, I grinned like a loon and stretched. I glanced toward my phone and couldn’t resist grabbing it and taking a look. A new message from Davis waited for me, and my cock twitched.
Last night, nerves had thrummed through me, my heartbeat fast and urging me on to pick up some noodle soup and drop it at Davis’s porch. I hadn’t wanted to be caught, soup—and balls—in hand and left stuttering at the ground, looking and sounding like a fool. I was not one for grand gestures. There’d never been a cause or a need. But hearing Davis, the exhaustion in his voice, knowing he was going to have a nightmare of a night, I’d simply reacted and found myself ordering food and racing away from his place as soon as I’d sent him a text.
His text back had made my chest expand and my cock take notice. I’d then spent an hour watching porn, the whole time making mental notes of what I would seriously like to try with Davis, while being turned on to the point I’d exploded. Twice. On the flipside, my ass had seen zero action from a real penis. My cheeks heated when I thought of the dildo I’d ordered a few weeks back and had been experimenting with.
I opened the message.
Davis: Coffee’s on. Get your lazy ass over here.
I threw my bedcovers off after shooting him a quick reply letting him know I was on my way. It didn’t take long to get myself together, and then I was in my car and pulling up outside his place. Taking a deep breath before I exited, I swallowed the nerves attempting to force their way to the surface. I felt giddy and ridiculous, sure this was how I’d have felt going to collect a guy for a date should I have had the opportunity. I hadn’t. I liked Davis, a lot, more than I’d ever liked anyone, and admitting that to myself was one heck of a rush.
Before I knew it, I was in front of Davis’s door and knocking.
“Come on in,” his voice called, and I smiled as I opened the door and entered. “We’re in the kitchen.” I continued through and stopped short when I took in the scene before me. Davis was shirtless. His jeans sat on his hips, leaving very little to my imagination. Hell, I’d already spent countless hours imagining the happy trail that lay beneath his beltline. He was half turned toward me, a smile on his face and a shirt in his hands. “Hey.”
I removed my tongu
e from the roof of my mouth and remembered how to speak and breathe. “Hey, all good in here?” I couldn’t resist another slow examination of his bare skin.
His small laugh had my gaze meeting his. His eyes were wide, amusement dancing in their depths. “We are indeed.”
Right, Libby. My gaze jerked in her direction. Covered in what looked to be oatmeal, she looked thoroughly happy. “Da Da.” She whacked her plastic spoon on her high chair tray and giggled.
A wide smile stretched my lips. She was freakin’ adorable. “You want to retract that statement of being all okay?” I lifted both brows high, a lightness sitting happily in my chest at the domestic chaos I’d walked in to.
“This?” He glanced around, his lips tilting up. “This is nothing. You should stop by when there are multiple food groups on offer.”
I nodded in Libby’s direction and took a step toward her, being careful not to step on any oats. “And you seem better.” I picked up the second spoon on her tray and looked at Davis. “Can I try?” My mouth went dry when I took in the expression on his face. There was no longer amusement in his eyes; instead, a softness I hadn’t seen before hit me with a force so hard it took my breath away.
He nodded without speaking, his soft expression on me for a moment longer before it drifted to Libby, then back to me. This time, I took note of the breath that left his lungs—it was heavy, almost a sigh. His Adam’s apple worked before he cleared his throat and turned away.
Not giving myself time to get my thoughts under control, since Libby thumping her tray drew my attention back to her, I managed to force a smile. It only took a moment for the smile to settle and become real and at ease. It was impossible not to when Libby had her fist in her mouth, oatmeal oozing out the sides. My heart remained pounding though, Davis’s look still burning brightly in my memory.
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