Bet on Us

by MariaLisa deMora

  “Boyfriend.” His voice didn’t lift on the end, so he wasn’t questioning Jordan, but still, the word slipped free.

  Jordan frowned, his head tipped to the side, and a lock of hair fell across his brow. “Yeah, Jericho. Boyfriend. You’re my boyfriend. Daniel, the asshole, is my roommate.”

  “Boyfriend.”

  Daniel’s voice came from somewhere in the distance; he must have moved away to grant some privacy. Still, he was close enough to hear their exchange, because he told Jordan, “He’s cute. I like him.”

  Jordan’s head snapped sideways, brows drawing down in a dark scowl that didn’t do anything to mask his handsome features. Jericho watched the lines of his jaw tighten and clench. So hot. “He’s mine, Daniel. Keep your eyes to yourself.”

  “I’m your boyfriend.” Jericho huffed out a light laugh. “I have a boyfriend. You’re my boyfriend.”

  Jordan’s eyes were dancing when he looked back at the camera. “Yeah, didn’t you get that when we were at the coffee shop?”

  The last day of the initial trip to Memphis, Jordan had taken Jericho to a mall. The plan had been to see a movie and grab a bite to eat, but the place had been filled with distractions, and by the time they’d made it to the theater, the movie had already started. So they’d simply walked the mall, circling first the downstairs and then the upper floor. Along the way, they’d stopped in a tiny shop specializing in varied coffee drinks. As they’d stood in line, Jordan’s hand had found his and latched on, clasping so tightly Jericho couldn’t have pulled away if he’d wanted. Jericho had glanced around but never caught anyone looking at them at all. As if the connection, small as it was, had been a normal occurrence here.

  They’d gone through to the register like that, paired, and when they had to separate to take their drinks, Jordan had steered them to a tiny table near the back wall, scooting his chair around so he sat next to Jericho, the outside of their thighs pressed tight together. Jordan had leaned in as they talked, his arm propped along the back of Jericho’s chair, the position a blatant intimacy orchestrated by Jordan and something Jericho had loved. When they’d finally left the shop, Jordan’s hand had again found his, and they’d finished walking through the mall like that, hand in hand.

  “No. I mean. I kinda.” Jericho shook his head, the tingling in his belly a distraction. The butterflies were out in force today. It was like this every time he and Jordan spoke, but talking to Jordan at the same time he was remembering how it had felt to have the world blocked out, be protected by him? He was on anticipation overload. “I mean I hoped.”

  “Well, stop hoping, and just know. God.” Jordan thrust a hand through his hair, looking frustrated. “I wish I was there.” The background shifted as light sources changed, and a door closing told him Jordan had taken the phone into his bedroom. “I wish I was there and could do more than just look at you.”

  Jericho reached for his phone as he climbed on the bed and curled up on his side. He held the screen right in front of his face, feeling the same way he had when Jordan had kissed him. “I wish you were here, too.”

  Cherished.

  ***

  Trent

  Lifting his head, Trent stared around the office, unsure what had pulled his attention away from the work on his screen. No noise in the house; Trent was the only one home right now, Jacob having stepped out to pick a few things up at the store. Trent angled his head as if that would help him listen more intently, then stood, rolling his chair back. He was on edge for some reason, the silence now seeming sinister.

  “Jakey?” Just in case Jacob had returned home and Trent hadn’t heard him, he called out, “Honeybuns, you here?”

  Silence met his inquiries, and he crazily wished for a dog in that instant. A dog would be company and would be a good alert system if someone did break in. Not that I think anyone’s breaking in. His heart was thudding along quickly, faster than before, the errant thought of a stranger crawling through a broken window enough to make his palms sweat.

  “Jakey?” He paused at the bottom of the stairs, looking up only to be met by stillness and quiet. Turning, he surveyed the main floor and was pleased to find zero intruders. Walking into the kitchen, he was pulling a glass down from the shelf when something buzzed behind him. Juggling the glass for a couple of twisty tumbles, he clutched it against his chest as he turned, breathing heavily.

  Jacob’s phone was on the charging pad, and as he glared at it the device vibrated again, the racket reverberating through the wood. That had to have been what he’d heard or sensed. “Oh my God.”

  Glass filled with cold orange juice, he set the drink on the counter and picked up Jacob’s phone, using his thumbprint to unlock the screen. There was a flood of text messages in view, from four or five people, and he exited that display, navigating directly to the text message software. Connor, Jaime, Jericho, and Jordan had all messaged Jacob in the past fifteen minutes. Trent checked the clock and clucked softly. Jericho was in class and shouldn’t be texting, so he made a mental note to have a conversation with him tonight. It wasn’t often Jericho did anything out of line; he was the ultimate good kid. Trent wanted to attribute that to Stella more than himself and Jacob, but he knew from the bits and pieces Jericho had dropped over the past months that Stella had had little to do with molding the boy into the man he would one day be.

  Another text came in, this from Connor. Trent picked up his juice and took a drink as he touched the text, expanding the full contents. A second later juice had sprayed out his nose and mouth, covering the countertop in front of him.

  Did you miss the fact the baby’s coming? James asked when you’ll be here. She wants you to bring bacon.

  It was accompanied by a picture of Jaime in a hospital bed, giving the bowl of green Jell-O in front of her a scowling thumbs-down.

  Jericho texted next, and Trent wisely didn’t have a mouthful of anything when he read it.

  I got a ride. Jordan’s coming home for the baby. Tell Aunt Jaime good luck.

  Through the door to the garage, the sound of a motor swelled then cut off, and Trent was staring in anticipation at the doorway when it opened. Jacob backed through it, his arms full of grocery bags. He turned and spied Trent, a sweet smile tugging at his lips.

  “Taking a breather?” Jacob plunked the bags on the island and walked around to prop his hands on either side of Trent’s hips. “Missed you.” Trent dipped his chin for a kiss, eyes closed as Jacob repeated the caress, the tip of his tongue trailing across Trent’s lips. “What’s up?”

  “Jaime’s having the baby.”

  Jacob stopped moving. If it weren’t for his pupils dilating wide, Trent could have wondered if the man had been flash-frozen in place.

  “You forgot your phone.” He held it up, wiggling it back and forth in front of Jacob’s face. “They’ve been blowing it up. You’ve got texts from everyone.” Jacob still hadn’t moved, was scarcely breathing. “Wanna get ready to go to the hospital?” Jacob blinked slowly, pupils narrowing to tiny dots. “Honeybuns? James wants her brudder. Let’s go see this baby born.”

  Another slow blink, then Jacob pushed close, his mouth demandingly tight against Trent’s. Eyes wide open, they kissed, a hard press of lips that conveyed every ounce of Jacob’s excitement and anticipation.

  “My sister’s having a baby.” Jacob breathed the words, lips moving against Trent’s as he spoke. “James is gonna be a momma again.”

  “She is.” Gripping Jacob’s shoulders, Trent moved him back a couple of steps. “You need to do anything here before we go?” He angled a look at the grocery bags on the island. “Groceries?”

  “I got it,” Jacob said, whirling and moving to unpack things. “Get your shoes on. By the time you’re ready, I’ll have the cold stuff put away. Go.” He glanced over his shoulder at Trent, who hadn’t moved. “Go already. James is having a baby.”

  “So I heard.” Jacob’s phone vibrated in Trent’s grip and he glanced down, laughing at the message. “She
wants bacon and a margarita, both of which I think would be forbidden in the birthing suite.”

  “Go.” Jacob turned back to the groceries, and Trent did as he was told.

  ***

  “James, she’s so flippin’ gorgeous I can’t even breathe when I look at her. Princess, you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. You’re gonna be a heartbreaker, I just know it. Gonna keep Daddy awake at night guarding the door.”

  Trent glanced up at Jaime’s laughter, then immediately turned his focus back on the baby girl in his arms. “Momma thinks your Uncle Trentie’s funny, baby girl. But he’s right. She’s gonna find out in fifteen years or so. Uncle Trentie’s right. Yes, he is. That’s right.”

  “Gimme.” There was a cautious nudge at his shoulder, and Trent cut his eyes over to see Jacob standing there, arms outstretched, impatiently waiting. “My turn. Stop being such a baby hog.”

  Trent smiled at him, then carefully transferred the precious cargo from his arms to Jacob’s. He stared, transfixed, as Jacob curled in around the baby girl, head bent to gaze into his niece’s face. That lock of hair fell across his brow, the corners of his eyes crinkled, and the softest, sweetest smile Trent had ever seen curled the corners of Jacob’s lips.

  “Caitlynn, sweetheart.” Voice a barely there croon, Jacob slowly bounced the baby in his arms, swaying from foot to foot. “Look at you. Just look at you.”

  My husband needs a baby.

  He’d known Jacob wanted kids, plural, for a long time. Since well before Jaime’d had Matt, now a three-year-old terror. But seeing Jacob like this, holding a newborn, Trent made a silent but determined vow that he’d make this happen for them. Not just for Jacob, because Trent would love to have a child, too, but mostly because of the expression of devotion and adoration on Jacob’s face right now. All that love needed to go somewhere, and a baby was the perfect target.

  “Do you see that?” Jaime’s throaty question was voiced from behind him, and Trent unwillingly pulled his gaze away from Jacob and the baby to look at his sister-in-law. She blinked back tears, her words vibrating with emotion when she told him something he’d already decided. “He needs one of those, Trentie.” The love on Jaime’s face was so much like what always shone through Jacob, and Trent realized that as much as he wanted it for Jacob, Jaime did also.

  “You could make it easy on me and just give us this one?” He bent and brushed a kiss across her cheek, hearing her laughter up close. “Seriously, you make pretty babies, Jaime. Caitlynn is perfect.”

  “Mine.” The granite strength of the single word came from Connor standing on the other side of the bed. “You can’t have her.”

  He looked between the two of them and decided to share the good news that had been somewhat sidelined since the move. “We were picked by a surrogate.” At Jaime’s pleased inrush of breath, he held up a cautioning hand. “Because of the house and everything happening so fast, we asked for a six-month furlough. She might not wait through the deferment, and we wouldn’t blame her. She said she understood why, with the move, and we assured her it wasn’t for lack of wanting or being a hundred percent onboard with a baby. If she’s selected another couple, it’s back to the drawing board, either in California or here.”

  “I’d do it in a heartbeat.” With her chin lifted like that, Jaime looked so much like her stubborn brother that Trent had to lean in and kiss her cheek again. “Whatever y’all need.”

  “I love you, you know that?” A palm landed in the middle of his back, heat blossoming from the touch, and Trent turned to see Jacob standing behind him, passing tiny Caitlynn to her father. “James, just knowing you’d go through that for us is an honor. I love you, too.”

  Trent leaned against Jacob. He didn’t have to question if his husband would hold him up or would support him through thick and thin. He knew. Just like he knew Jacob would be there for any child they had. None of the questions that terrified Trent even pinged Jacob’s radar.

  “I married an all-in kinda guy.” He turned his face and ducked, burying his nose against Jacob’s neck, breathing in his scent.

  “Hate to break it to you, but that’s not news.” Jacob’s quiet laughter rumbled through them both, the vibrations transferring through to Trent. “I think it’s time for us to vamoose.” Trent looked up to see Jaime shifting sideways in the bed, pillow strategically placed at her side as Connor hovered close by, Caitlynn cradled against his chest.

  “Little momma, we’re going to head out.” Jaime nodded, but she had eyes only for her daughter, and Trent smiled at the sight. Perfection. “Love you, sweet girl.”

  Fingers twined together, they rode the elevator down, exited at the lobby. Just outside the door, Trent stumbled as Jacob slowed, tugging at his hand. He turned to see Jacob’s attention fixed across the parking lot. Squinting, he saw Jordan climb out of his car but choked when Jacob’s hand covered his mouth just as he was about to shout a welcome. Focused intensely, he watched Jordan trot around the front of the vehicle to open the passenger door. A moment later, Jericho appeared, wedged between Jordan and the side of the car. Jordan herded him sideways, closed the door, then leaned in close.

  Trent whirled, fisting the fabric of Jacob’s shirt as he buried his face against his throat. “I can’t see this.”

  “Babe.” Soft wonder suffused Jacob’s voice, and Trent twisted far enough to glance over his shoulder. He was just in time to see the two boys break apart, neither going too far from the other. “That’s sweet devotion. Did you see how Jordan opened the car door for Jericho? Oh, man. He’s got it bad.”

  “That’s my nephew.” Trent knew his argument didn’t hold any conviction and was unsurprised when Jacob just laughed at him. “I can’t see that. It’s against the dad-slash-uncle code. If I see it, I think the rules say I have to beat up Jordan. Or at least give him a stern talking-to. That’s Jericho, he’s my baby.”

  Jacob arched away from Trent and stared up at him, eyebrows raised.

  Before Jacob could say it, Trent filled in the silence with an entirely sarcastic “Babe” that had his husband shouting with laughter as Trent grumbled.

  “I wasn’t being funny.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Jericho

  “So, that was weird.”

  Jericho leaned his head against the passenger seat in Jordan’s car. They were just leaving the hospital after the strangest visit he could have ever conceived.

  He and Jordan had scarcely been out of the car when they heard Jake, and looking up they saw both of his uncles standing in the hospital parking lot. Then, even though they’d clearly been leaving, both Trent and Jake had accompanied him and Jordan up to Jaime’s room. They’d knocked and been called inside, only to find Jaime in the process of nursing Caitlynn. Jericho hadn’t known where to direct his eyes, so he’d finally settled on staring Coach Connor in the face.

  “I’m so awkward around stuff like that.” He was staring out the window and realized they hadn’t moved. He looked at Jordan to find him smiling, one of the deadly dimples on full display. “What?”

  “You were very sweet.”

  Jordan stretched out a hand and Jericho clasped it, watching as their fingers threaded together. It was the most natural thing, an action that had happened dozens of times now, but he was just as floored by the ease and comfort now as he had been the first time.

  “I was weird. Did you hear how loud I was?” He’d spent the first ten minutes aggressively engaging Coach about school, dissecting his schedule and how it lined up with the one Coach had to follow. “I’m surprised they didn’t throw me out.”

  “They didn’t mind.” Jordan leaned closer, one hand lifting to cup the side of Jericho’s neck.

  The air in the car had thinned to that of the atmosphere on the moon. That was the only explanation for how hard it was for Jericho to take a full breath in. He wheezed out, “That baby, though. She’s adorable.”

  “So precious. She looks just like Matt did when he was born.” Jordan an
gled Jericho’s jaw just enough to trail a wet line of kisses up, ending at the sensitive skin behind his ear. “Jericho.” His name was scarcely a whisper, an indrawn rush of air formed around the consonants that represented him. “You know what you do to me?”

  “I hope I make you crazy.” Heart jumping in his chest, he could hear the pounding of each beat of blood through his veins as a tom-tom in his ears. His words were far bolder than he felt, butterflies filling his throat until he shivered under Jordan’s hands. “Because that’s what you do to me.”

  Jordan leaned close and rested his head on Jericho’s shoulder. He lifted their clasped fingers to his mouth and pressed a hard kiss against Jericho’s knuckles. The unsteady rhythm of his breaths testified he was just as affected as Jericho, which was comforting for some reason.

  They’d talked at some length about how far they were willing to go right now. With the separation and distance between them, the reasonable timeframes and suggestions all made sense. Right now, with Jordan’s weight pinning him into the seat, Jericho was ready to throw it all out the window. He’d make up a new plan right here on the spot that included going back to somewhere that had a horizontal surface and setting up camp there.

  “Your dads invited me for supper.”

  Jericho startled and pulled away, staring at Jordan in confusion. “My dads?”

  “Your uncles.” Jordan moved back behind the steering wheel, and Jericho missed the closeness immediately, wishing he hadn’t initiated any kind of retreat. “I forget sometimes they aren’t, you know? They act like dads, and that’s how you treat them.”

  “My dad died before I knew him.” Jericho had two pictures of himself as an infant with a man his mom had labeled his father. “My stepdad, well, you know what he did.” Jordan did, too. He knew all of it, more than Jericho had ever told anyone else, spending hours upon hours purging himself of the ugliness Frank had left behind. The shame and terror he thought he’d gotten past, but when he woke from a nightmare, he was under standing orders to call Jordan, no matter the time. It was during those late-night video chat sessions that Jordan had taken control of the conversations, steering them so Jericho felt safe enough to talk about how much he’d feared Frank, how angry he was at his mom for putting them both in that situation. Jordan hadn’t judged, hadn’t said a single thing about blame for anyone—except Frank. It was like that first conversation Jericho had had with Jake, where he’d seen his uncle fight rage he’d felt on Jericho’s behalf. “I guess they do act like dads.”