“Oh!” Adam bounced in the passenger seat and clapped his hands, looking more alert as he followed John's gaze to the front of the house. “It came!”
“What came?” John asked, reaching up to punch the button that would open the garage.
Instead of answering, Adam gave him a sly grin. “You'll see.” He paused. “I hope you'll like it,” he added, sounding uncertain.
John pulled the car inside, the vehicle feeling tiny in the space compared to his truck, then turned to look at Adam. “Whatever it is, I'm sure I will.”
Adam beamed at him and threw off his seat belt.
John shut off the car and got out to follow his boy.
They walked around to the front of the house, and John peered down at the huge box resting beside the front door that he never used.
“What–” John began to ask, then his eyes went wide as he took in the image on the side of the box.Holy shit. “A wine fridge?”
Adam nodded eagerly as a grin took over his face. He held up his hands. “I measured, like, three times to make absolutely sure it would fit. I think if you take out that one shelf under the counter, it'll slide right in.
John blinked at him. “Why did you buy me a wine fridge?”
Adam's smile wilted. “You had to lock all your wine away because of me, and now it's all spoiled,” he began.
John inwardly winced. He had lost his small collection, keeping the bottles in that file cabinet. The garage got plenty of shade thanks to the trees surrounding his little house, but with the triple-digit heat outside, that didn't matter much. The garage had gotten too warm.
“But this,” Adam went on, his smile starting to come back as he gestured at the box, “has dual temperature controlsandit even locks.” Adam paused, his expression turning completely sober. “I don't feel the urge to drink anymore, but I can't guarantee I'll always be like that. Maybe something else bad will happen someday. I don't know. But this way, you can keep your wine collection locked up, so it'll be your decision whether I get to have a glass with you over dinner.” He paused. “Does that sound stupid? Maybe that sounds–”
John grabbed his boy and kissed him.
Adam gasped in surprise, then melted into the kiss.
“You're brilliant,” John whispered over his lips. “Daddy loves you so much.”
Adam beamed at him, then laughed. “I'm sorry about the timing, though. I can't exactly help you drag this thing inside.”
John tipped the box, judging its weight. “I'll figure something out,” he assured Adam. “Come on. Let's at least get ourselves inside.” He dragged his arm across his forehead, wiping away the sweat that had beaded there just from standing in the heat.
Adam followed him back into the garage, then into the house. They both sighed with relief when the air conditioning hit them. John pulled off his work boots before kneeling down to help Adam out of his own shoes. He knew Adam could manage on his own now, but he also had to admit that he'd been really enjoying taking care of his boy.
Speaking of which, he thought, frowning as he stood back up and took in Adam's face. John ran a hand down the boy's cheek. “You look done in. Why don't you go take a nap? Maybe I'll order something for dinner.”
Adam yawned. “And here I was gonna make your favorite.”
“Let's save it for the weekend,” John suggested. “Go on.”
“Yes, Daddy,” Adam murmured, padding away to the bedroom.
John's chest swelled as he watched the boy walk away, those words ringing in his ears, making him grin. He went to the kitchen and unpacked the remains of his lunch bag, smiling the whole time. Adam had been making John's lunch for him every day since he'd gone back to work. The whole thing was so sweetly domestic. John couldn't get enough of it, of the way they took care of one another.
He peeked into the bedroom and found Adam sound asleep, so he pulled the door almost shut before heading for the living room. There was still the box on the porch that needed to be brought inside, but John could worry about that later. He pulled out his guitar and his notebooks and dropped onto the couch, snagging the opportunity while he had it.
Ever since his flash of inspiration in the shower with Adam, John had been stealing moments like this, trying to finishAdam's Song. It was almost done, but John still hadn't had a chance to play it all the way through.
He strummed the guitar as softly as he could, singing the lyrics in barely a whisper. John felt his smile spreading, taking over his face, his skin breaking out in goosebumps as his excitement and nerves grew in equal measure.
It was perfect.
The rhymes weren't exact, but he found himself actually content with that.Handandmanweren't perfect rhymes, but when sung, one could hardly tell the difference. What mattered most was the feeling he'd put into the lines. The song spoke of his passion for Adam. Of their struggles and the strength of their love.
He couldn't wait to play it for the boy.
