“He’s not a child,” I repeat. “He’s definitely not my son.”
Jack tugs the ginger beer from my hand and sets it on the coffee table. He straddles my lap, resting his forehead on mine. “You said yes.”
“Fine. I did. Happy? He’s family, Jack. You don’t turn down family.”
“And you’re supposed to talk to me before you do life-altering things.”
My heart beats too fast for me to keep up with it. Everything’s spinning wildly out of control. I need control of something. “Well, I did and I’m not sorry. You don’t like it? Leave.”
Immediate regret clouds me. Sorry doesn’t seem like enough so I keep my mouth shut to prevent more stupid shit from coming out of it. I start praying and I grab him by the hem of his t-shirt.Don’t fucking leave me.
“I know what you’re doing. You’re in pain and trying to distance yourself from other potential land mines that could hurt you,” he says.
I nod. It’s too accurate for me to deny. “In my defense, you said I should run children by you. Logan’s not a child. Technically, I didn’t break my word.”
“Don’t matter, Merc. I’m a fool because I’ve already forgiven you for it. I forgive you for your asshole behavior too even though you haven’t apologized yet—but you will—and I guess I can’t make you call me when you need someone to talk to but let it be stated on record that I wish you would. Kinda bummed that you didn’t.”
Nodding, I reach to touch his face. Is Jack real? Sometimes I’m not sure. “I’ll try. I swear I’ll try. Getting help with my feelings, or otherwise, is not my first inclination. Not just with you, but with anyone.”
“I get it. You’ve relied on yourself since you were a kid. Everyone relies on you. You think you have to operate as an island.”
“Not anymore, apparently.” I explain their grand plan. He laughs. “I don’t see what’s so funny.”
“Because I can’t wait until you tell them you’re bringing home another Meyer stray.”
I groan because I am going to have to tell them, and I was today years old when I learned I’m not better than my parents. We’re all just bundles of trauma, using coping mechanisms to survive said trauma while unintentionally passing new trauma onto others. “He’s not a Meyer.”
“To you he is.”
“To me he is.”
“Anyway, I support you. I’ll always support you and I’m making you pay every time you don’t fucking consult me, jackass.Notby leaving you. Trust me, I’m far more creative than that. Consider this your one-time freebie, ‘cuz I’m sure it’s not something you’re supposed to get used to overnight.”
I don’t know how he didn’t take any of that personally because I would have.
“I appreciate the opportunity to do better.” I slide a hand up his shirt to meet his rippling abs. He doesn’t have an ounce of fat on him anymore. I’m kinda looking forward to him getting a bit of that off-season softness. I love all the phases of Jack. “I know you said you already forgave me, but I’m so fucking sorry. I’m a huge dick and I don’t deserve you, but if you’re gonna be foolish enough to stay, I’m not gonna convince you otherwise.”
“Is that how you think it works, Merc?”
“What?”
“A few harsh words, a little bickering, and the only solution is to break it off?”
“I …” Is that what I did? Do I do that? “Guess this boyfriend thing isn’t all sex, eh?”
“Nope, but you are damn good at the sex part. You’re not as bad at the other stuff as you think you are.”
I lean back so I can drink him in. He bends his head for a kiss.
“I came home, uh, like to the building we happen to inhabit simultaneously, early enough so we could …” He grabs my dick through the thin cotton of my sweats.
Good, because I need him so bad, but first, “Can I have a do over of the bullshit I said? Because I didn’t mean any of it.”
He pretends to think about it. “Let’s hear it. I’m a big fan of do overs.”
“Come home to me every night when we get back to Vancouver. The truth is that I hate when you leave. I’d rather you just stay.”
“I’d like that, Merc,” he says.
