Chapter 13
Two days later, Dawson knocked on Gideon’s apartment door. He frowned at the weird noises coming from within. Noises , period. Gideon had guests? Dawson had spent the afternoon successfully dodging more of Sadie’s playful questions, with her none the wiser about his betrayal. A major miracle. He didn’t feel like dealing with a crowd after that. Had he messed up his days?
Something crashed, and then came a distinctly childlike-sounding laugh.
Gideon opened the door, eyes wide. “Dawson. Crud, I forgot you were coming.”
A tiny human peeked out from under Gideon’s arm. A miniature version of Gideon, all the way to the nose and those brown eyes. Had to be his son, Hudson.
“Hello,” Hudson said, flashing a toothy grin.
Gideon ruffled the boy’s head. “Dawson, this is my son, Hudson. Hudson, this is a friend of mine, Dawson.”
“Like mum’s friend Ned?”
The light in Gideon’s eyes dimmed a fraction. “Exactly like that, buddy.”
Hudson beamed, content with that explanation. “Cool. Do you like playdough?”
“I love playdough,” Dawson answered, sharing a look with Gideon. He hoped he’d answered right. Did Hudson like playdough, or were they team not-playdough? Dawson couldn’t remember the last time he’d been anywhere near playdough. Not since he’d been a kid and had to be told multiple times that he couldn’t eat it. Why did it taste so good, then?
Hudson grabbed his hand and dragged him into the apartment. “Uh…” Dawson helplessly glanced behind himself at Gideon as he let himself be led to the small round kitchen table. It had been cleaned off, and a plastic table protector was draped over it. Tubs of playdough of varying sizes and cookie cutters were spread out. An impressive setup.
Gideon smiled ruefully and closed the front door. “Welcome to having children. I have some chicken stir-fry with egg noodles cooking for dinner, and Hudson has requested milkshakes. You want one?”
“What flavour?”
The bench looked like a crime scene, covered with the remnants of cooking dinner and a bunch of milkshake syrups, a tub of ice cream, a three-litre jug of milk, a Nestlé hot chocolate tin, sprinkles, a spray can of whipped cream, and a blender.
“Whatever flavour you want. Chocolate. Strawberry. Caramel. Bubble gum. Fairy floss. One that says mint, but I think whoever labelled it had no taste buds.”
“Does the bubble gum taste like actual gum?”
“It’s actually pretty good. It tastes like blue.”
“What colour do you want?” Hudson asked, tugging on Dawson’s sleeve.
“Hudson, you have to wait until we’re finished speaking before you ask a question, remember?”
“Sorry.” Hudson paused. “Are you done?”
Dawson stifled a smile, not wanting to contradict Gideon’s parenting.
Gideon laughed. “Yeah, we’re done.”
Hudson tugged on Dawson’s sleeve again. “What colour do you want?”
Dawson glanced over the array of playdough colours. It looked like they’d gathered the entire rainbow and then some. “What are we making?” he asked first. That would play a part in his selection.
“Rubbish,” Hudson said proudly. He pointed to a pile he’d already created that mostly looked like he’d squished random shapes together. That counted as rubbish. “And then the garbage truck can pick them up. I want to be a garbageman when I grow up.”
Shattering glass had Dawson shooting to his feet. “Are you alright? Did it get you?”
“No, it’s fine. It just slipped.” Gideon frowned down at the floor where glass pieces spread out over the tiles. There were a few bigger pieces and other smaller ones that could get stuck in clothing.
“Don’t move,” Dawson said, heart skipping a beat. “You’re not even wearing shoes!”
Gideon’s lips quirked. “Why would I put shoes on in my own kitchen?”
Good thing one of them found this amusing. “Where’s your dustpan and broom? Let me get it. Hike yourself up on the bench and away from it.”
“Daddy?”
“Stay over there, Hud.”
“When are we getting our milkshakes?”
“Very soon,” Gideon promised. “Finish your garbage, and then you can have one with tea.”
Hudson bobbed his head in acceptance and went back to his work. Oh, to be as resilient as a child.
“You don’t like garbage?” Dawson asked.
“Does anyone like garbage? The name implies it’s a thing you throw out.”
“He seems to like it.” Had that set Gideon off, or was it a coincidence?
Gideon didn’t respond, and the hard-and-yet-sad look got stronger. Not a coincidence. Not that Dawson could force him to spill with his kid in the room. Or while glass covered his kitchen floor. “I need you out of the way so I can clean up. Do you need help to get up?” He hadn’t taken his shoes off when he’d arrived, distracted by Hudson and playdough. Fortuitous.
That curve of Gideon’s lips flicked up further. “I think I can manage.” He gripped the edge of the counter and lifted himself until he sat on the bench, feet dangling. Out of harm’s way. Good.
“Your dustpan and broom?”
“In the pantry.”
“Don’t move,” Dawson ordered, shooting Gideon a suspicious look as he made his way to the pantry beside the fridge.
“Not moving.”
“Are you sure?”
“I am sure that I am not moving,” Gideon said, amusement lacing his voice.
“I’m just checking,” Dawson said defensively. At least his heart rate had returned to a relatively normal pace. He found the broom and made his way across the floor, getting everything he could see. There were mostly larger pieces, but the smaller shards were the ones to watch for. The ones that got left behind and attacked unsuspecting feet.
Hudson jumped off his chair when a knock came at the door. “Who’s there?” he yelled out.
“Hudson, sit down; you aren’t allowed to answer the door by yourself, remember?” Gideon said. “Let me—”
“Don’t you dare come down,” Dawson said, pointing at him. “Did I say you could move yet?” He crowded Gideon and pressed lips to his ear, speaking lightly enough that children’s ears couldn’t hear. “Riley likes it when you’re a good boy, doesn’t he?” Gideon’s breath hitched. “So do I.” He kissed the curve. “Let me get it.”
Dawson took a second to admire Riley’s lean form in the doorway, looking way too goddamn sexy in his suit, a light flare at his hip where his firearm sat snug.
Hudson clung to Dawson’s leg, smiling wide up at Riley. “Riley!”
Dawson put a tentative hand on Hudson’s head. Weren’t kids normally shy of new people and shit? It shouldn’t have surprised him that Gideon’s kid didn’t have that hang-up.
“Hello, Hudson.”
“Do you like playdough?”
“I haven’t used it enough to decide,” Riley said seriously.
Hudson nodded seriously in return. “It’s my favourite. I have jigsaw puzzles. Do you want to see?”
“I would love to see. Let me speak to your father first.”
“Okay!” Hudson ran back to his seat, almost sliding right over it in his haste.
“If that was a race, he got gold.”
“He always gets gold,” Riley replied. “He’s always had Gideon’s boundless energy.”
Gideon, who they found with a hand stretched out, reaching for the broom.
“What are you doing?” Dawson asked sternly.
“Nothing.” Gideon settled back on the bench with a huff. “I’ll have you know I could do this by myself,” he pointed out. “I don’t always have a knight in shining armour to save me.”
“Well, this time you do.”
“My hero.”
“What happened?” Riley asked, coming to stand behind Dawson, an inferno at his back.
“Broke a glass, and Dawson won’t let me move until he’s cleaned it all up.”
“How generous of him,” Riley murmured, lips dragging behind his ear, sending a shiver down his back.
“I don’t want him cutting his feet,” Dawson managed to get out. He should get gold for that . They could hand out a few medals tonight.
Riley’s hand found Dawson’s hip, and Dawson reached for it without thought, fingers sliding together. Touching them had become a drug.
“Can I come down now?” Gideon asked with a cheeky grin.
Dawson did one more check, making sure he hadn’t missed anything. Satisfied, he lifted Gideon from the counter, sliding him slowly down his body, feeling every inch of him.
“Hi,” Gideon murmured.
“Hi.” Dawson checked that Hudson was preoccupied—he had his head down, his tongue out as he concentrated on a large orange piece of playdough—and then snuck a kiss, keeping it shallow. A brief taste that wouldn’t last him long. He’d need a refill.
When he turned his head to the side, Riley lay in wait, claiming the taste for himself. He didn’t have any qualms about deepening the kiss, his tongue slipping into Dawson’s mouth.
Dawson swayed when Riley lifted his head, chasing those lips, forgetting completely where they were.
Riley’s mouth tipped up, not quite a smile, but not quite not one. He rubbed his thumb over Dawson’s bottom lip.
“I’m sorry about Hudson,” Gideon said quietly. “Lucia had a last-minute big meeting she had to go to, and I didn’t want to say no when she asked. I forgot you were coming over. I’m sorry, you don’t have to stay or—”
“Do you want us to go?” Riley asked.
“Do you not want to?” Gideon said, looking surprised.
Dawson glanced over the milkshake drippings, to the kid humming to himself, and considered the warmth he felt in his bones from being there. “Is there a reason we shouldn’t?” Did he think they would just duck and run because he had his kid here? They both knew that Gideon had a son. “We’re dating, aren’t we?” Had he been the only one thinking that? Hadn’t they already said it was more than sex?
Gideon faltered. He looked to Riley.
“Why are you asking me? I’ve made it perfectly clear where I stand, and I’ve known your son almost his entire life. If you’re having second thoughts, you can just say that.”
“I’m not.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“This feels like a deliberate step,” Gideon said. “You aren’t meeting Hudson as my boss. And Dawson isn’t just my friend.”
Considering that Gideon hadn’t dated since Lucia, his apprehension made sense. Including his kid put a more solid label on their relationship. It should have made Dawson panic. He didn’t meet anyone’s kid. And he certainly shouldn’t be falling for Sadie’s brother .
He wanted to be here, and slowly but surely, he continued to rack up negative best-friend points, with no way of knowing how he’d get out of the hole he was digging deeper.
“We can leave if that’s not what you want,” Dawson said. He wouldn’t blame Gideon for not wanting to take the step yet. It hadn’t even been a month since they’d started this. And slowing down didn’t mean stopping.
“I don’t want you to.”
“Daaaaaaad, I’m hungry.”
“Food’s coming,” Gideon told him. He pulled Dawson closer, leaning their foreheads together. “If you’re sure you want to stay, there’s plenty of stir-fry to go around.”
“Where’s your safe?” Riley asked.
Before Dawson could ask why, Gideon pointed to one he hadn’t noticed, under a narrow table near the wall. Riley unclipped his holster and unlocked the safe, stashing it inside before closing it.
“How’d you know the combination?” Dawson asked curiously. He hadn’t even known where it’d been located.
“All my detectives have the same one. For safety reasons.”
Dawson had no idea how that made sense, but he chose to believe him. Riley would know better how to coordinate his men than Dawson.
“What flavour milkshake do you want?” Gideon asked.
Riley surveyed the array of items over the bench with a critical eye. “Vanilla.”
“Colour me shocked,” Dawson said, tugging on one of Riley’s buttons. “Not even mint vanilla.”
“ Mint vanilla?”
“The two flavours go well together. Too much for your palette?”
Riley considered the words, and Dawson could practically see the cogs moving in his brain. His emotions were a fascinating juxtaposition. Cold and yet so unbelievably warm at the same time. Nothing like Dawson had originally thought, and he still hadn’t discovered all the layers to him.
The fact that he wanted to was a problem all on its own. The fact that he didn’t dispute that they were more than sex, that they were… something , was a whole other problem.
“What are you having?” Riley asked eventually.
Dawson hadn’t gotten that far. Now he needed to pick the most ludicrous combination ever. Would Riley drink it with him? Having to drink it himself would be worth it.
“Caramel with bubble gum, chocolate, and mint,” Dawson declared. Nothing could be more disgusting than that combination of flavours. And he would drink every drop if it meant fucking with Riley.
“You’re going to drink that?”
“Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.”
“I’ll have vanilla,” Riley repeated.
Well, fuck. Dawson couldn’t take back what he’d said, now sadly alone in his stupidity.
Gideon’s cough sounded suspiciously like a laugh. “Dawson, can you dish up the food while I make the drinks? Riley, can you help Hudson clear the table?”
Riley snagged Dawson’s hip and whispered in his ear, “I hope you enjoy your milkshake, sweetheart.”
The fucker .
It didn’t take long to get everything sorted, Hudson surprisingly helpful in cleaning up and then taking everything to the table, insisting he wanted to do it.
Dawson couldn’t remember the last time he’d sat down to eat dinner with someone he’d slept with. It had been a depressingly long time since he’d dated, and he didn’t think he’d ever dated someone with a kid. Or been serious enough for a “meet the parents” or any kind of family.
Is that where this would go? Meet the parents ? Meet Riley’s parents? Dawson had known Sadie’s parents for almost his entire life. He’d never imagined that their pleasant faces and kindness were hiding such a secret. It had thrown him and Sadie for a loop when they’d admitted it. Because of their choice, Sadie had lost a brother, and Riley had grown up with a different set of parents. Neither knowing the other existed.
Would Riley ever get to a point where he’d be willing to extend that branch? What would he do when Sadie attempted to contact him again? The thought settled in his stomach like a lead weight. It reminded him that this had an expiry date. Once Sadie found out, that would be the end of it. He would lose all of them and have no one but himself to blame.
Riley’s mouth lifted, twisting Dawson’s glass around so the straw pointed in his direction. “Are you going to try your drink, Dawson?”
An effective way to snap him out of his mood. Dawson didn’t hesitate, not wanting to show Riley he had any doubt. He sucked through the straw to get it over with. At least he could wash it down with the delicious-smelling stir-fry.
The caramel hit his tastebuds first, along with the ice cream and the refreshing coolness. He waited, expecting the other flavours to hit and bracing himself not to make a face. He might have sucked at acting in high school, but through sheer stubbornness he could pretend that he loved a flavour that would possibly be one of the worst in history.
Nothing else came through. Bubble gum and mint were pretty distinct, and chocolate couldn’t be mistaken. The caramel couldn’t have drowned it out that well.
The surprise must have shown on his face because Gideon laughed and said, “You didn’t actually think I was going to make that, did you?”
Dawson might be half in love with this man. More than. Could have kissed him, got on his knees and worshipped him. Would have if they were alone.
They shared a smile that caused butterflies to dance in Dawson’s stomach.
“How was Auskick today, Hud?” Gideon asked. “Mum said you kicked a goal.”
Hudson huffed like an elderly man instead of someone who was six—almost seven—and put his fork down, giving them all a very serious look. “It wasn’t good,” he said critically.
Dawson scooped up some of the food and shoved it in his mouth so he wouldn’t laugh. He had a feeling that wouldn’t go over well.
“Why not, buddy?” Gideon asked.
“I’m not good,” Hudson said. “The ball slips. The other kids are better than me.”
“It’s pretty slippery,” Gideon said reasonably. “I’ve seen you play, though, and you’re always smiling.”
“I don’t want to do it anymore.”
“We can talk about it next year, and if you really don’t want to, you don’t have to. But we signed you up for this whole season, and I’d like it if you at least finished it out before deciding.”
“What if I never get better?”
“It’s not about being good,” Gideon said gently. “Do you have fun when you play?”
“I like it when I get the ball.”
“Sometimes it’s enough to enjoy something, Hud, regardless of whether you think you’re good at it or not.”
“Really?” Hudson asked, like it had never occurred to him that enjoyment was enough.
“Really.”
“I used to play,” Dawson offered, swallowing his mouthful. “We could go kick around the footy sometime if you wanted?”
“Can we go and kick the footy now, Dad?”
“It’s a bit late to be going anywhere tonight,” Gideon said. “If you finish all your food, we can go tomorrow after school, how’s that?”
“Will you come?” Hudson asked Dawson.
Even if Dawson had plans for tomorrow, he’d have cancelled them. “Just tell me when and where, and I’ll be there.”
Hudson shovelled food into his mouth at a terrifying rate, slurping the noodles and chewing animatedly fast. He only stopped every so often to suck down his drink, complaining about brain freeze and then going back to it.
“Slow down, buddy. It’s not going anywhere.”
Hudson slowed down… a little.
“I bet that was you as a kid,” Dawson said, grinning.
“This is penance, I’m sure.”
Hudson loudly declared he was finished and shoved his bowl into the middle of the table with a loud burp.
Dawson snorted out a laugh, almost choking on his milkshake.
“’scuse me,” Hudson said with a giggle.
“Is that where your bowl goes?” Gideon asked pointedly.
Hudson rolled his eyes and grabbed it before stomping off towards the sink. “Sink, sink, sink . Can I watch some telly, Dad?”
Gideon checked his watch. “For fifteen minutes, and then it’s bath time.”
As soon as Hudson was out of earshot, lying sideways on the couch with the remote in his hand, Dawson said, “Sorry, I should have asked before offering the invitation.”
“So long as you follow through, I’ll forgive you,” Gideon said, smiling playfully. “He’ll probably invite some friends to come with him.”
“The more the merrier.” He’d be there, no matter what. He didn’t want to disappoint the dad or his son.
Once they were done, he and Riley shooed Gideon away, telling him they would do the dishes while he got his son ready for bed.
“It’s weird, seeing you like this,” Dawson said, leaning a hip on the counter as he waited for Riley to wash the first dish.
“You think I don’t wash my own dishes?” Riley asked, giving him a wry look. “I’m afraid animals don’t come and clean my home while I’m sleeping.”
“I can’t tell if I’m more surprised by that, or by the fact you even know that reference.”
“You’re surprised I don’t have animals doing my bidding?”
“It means there’s someone out there that doesn’t obey your every command.”
Riley passed him a bowl. “It would be difficult to walk through life not knowing Snow White, even in the vaguest sense. Besides, my brother Lucas went through a Disney phase when he was eight, and we all had to endure it. He never grew out of it. I can even recite some of the classic songs.”
“I would murder someone to hear that.”
“Do you want to hear it behind bars or at your trial?”
“I’m not picky. Can I record it?”
“No.”
“What if I say please?”
“Still no.”
They made short work of the dishes and then tried to work out where all the milkshake flavours went. Some of the cupboards were empty. The contents that should have been in there were probably packed away in some of the boxes scattered around the place. It didn’t feel like Gideon had quite worked out how to call the place home.
Understandable, considering the circumstances.
“Here,” Riley said, finding a tub around the other side of the counter that they’d both missed. “It helpfully says ‘milkshake ingredients’ on it.”
“Labels are so sexy,” Dawson said, giving an exaggerated shudder. He passed Riley each one, who then placed them in the tub like he was playing an intense game of Tetris and had to have the highest score.
Once they’d finished cleaning everything, they settled on the couch, thighs pressed together. They could hear Gideon and Hudson through the open door to the bathroom, the high-pitched giggles of a child, splashing, and Gideon’s deeper tone.
Dawson stole a glance at Riley and found him slouching, one knee lifted, foot turned to tuck under his opposite thigh, and his arm resting on it as he flicked through the channels.
“What?” Riley asked, without glancing in his direction.
“How do you know I want anything?”
“I can feel you looking at me.”
“Any other superpowers I should know about?”
The barest hint of a smile passed Riley’s lips, and Dawson couldn’t look away. He scrambled Dawson’s brain until he couldn’t think of anything but kissing those bowed lips, running his hands through that short dark hair, rubbing his cheek on that stubble. Have it scrape along his thighs.
“Look at me,” Dawson whispered.
Riley’s ice-cold blue eyes found his with ease. The colour wasn’t unfamiliar to Dawson; Sadie and her dad had them too. But these particular eyes made him feel a kaleidoscope of emotions. And he had prettier lashes than Sadie. He’d take that information to his grave.
Dawson lifted himself onto his knees and crawled across to Riley’s side. Riley’s gaze heated, and he let Dawson take the remote and fling it behind him, ignoring the clatter as it bounced onto the floor. He didn’t resist when Dawson lowered his knee, or when he settled himself on Riley’s lap. He spread his arms across the back of the couch, watching him with those stunning eyes.
They looked down to Dawson’s fingers as he undid his tie and slid it from his shoulders. There was something erotic about the way he didn’t say a word as Dawson worked on sneaking a peek of that warm skin. He wouldn’t undress Riley here, not with Gideon’s child here. That didn’t mean he couldn’t take a quick look.
He unbuttoned Riley’s shirt, fingers brushing against the revealed skin. He pushed both the shirt and the suit jacket out of the way so he could see that flat, chiselled chest. An absolute goddamn work of art.
“Do you work out? You look like you work out.” Dawson kissed under his collarbone, flicking his tongue.
“I occasionally box with Sebastian, and I swim when I can.”
Dawson traced Riley’s chest with his thumb, from his navel and up between his pecs, to the wet spot he’d created on his collarbone. Whatever restraint Riley had snapped as soon as Dawson flicked over a nipple. A hand yanked him down into a hungry kiss that he eagerly returned.
A hand, not Riley’s, slid over Dawson’s shoulder, and he broke away to stare, panting.
“He’s asleep,” Gideon said, running a hand through Dawson’s hair and kissing him softly. “But I don’t know for how long. He hasn’t been sleeping well when he’s here, because of the new environment. He ends up in my bed in the middle of the night a lot.” His face twisted in apology. “So I can’t—we can’t do anything. It’s alright if you don’t want to stay.”
“Because we can’t fuck you?” Riley asked bluntly. “Or because you don’t want us to be in your bed if he wants to sleep there?”
Red spread lightly over the tips of Gideon’s cheeks. “The first one,” he said slowly.
“Come here,” Riley ordered.
Dawson shifted out of Riley’s arms, making room for him. Gideon moved to stand in the vacated space between Riley’s legs. Riley took his time caressing Gideon’s hips and his thighs before resting twined arms loosely behind his knees. He leaned forward and kissed Gideon’s stomach. Dawson’s own quivered as if Riley’s lips were on his own. Watching them always felt like a physical touch, like they were all connected no matter who stood where.
“I want you, Gideon.” Riley kissed his way across Gideon’s stomach. Gideon’s eyelids fluttered closed on a shuddered exhale. “ You. Not just for sex. If you insinuate once more that I only want to be here if it involves bending you over, you aren’t going to like the consequences, understand?”
“I understand,” Gideon said, sounding out of breath.
“Good boy. Now sit down.”
Dawson shuffled over a bit more so that Gideon could sink into the cushions, sandwiching himself between them. Perfect.
“Now let’s see if I can find a better channel than Riley.”
“I wasn’t looking for a channel.”
Dawson called his bluff, and they bickered all the way through the show he found. If someone asked what they’d watched, he wouldn’t be able to give them an answer. All his focus rested on the feel of Gideon in his arms and the sound of Riley’s deep voice as he challenged every single word that came out of Dawson’s mouth.
Gideon shifted restlessly in Dawson’s arms. For the third time.
With the hand resting on Gideon’s opposite shoulder, he caressed Gideon’s neck with his knuckles. “Something bothering you?”
Gideon didn’t deny it, stiffly keeping his head forward, glued to the TV. “Hudson’s decided that he wants to be a garbageman when he grows up.”
“You don’t think it’s a good job?” Dawson asked. “You know what they say: if we were all lawyers and doctors we’d have one hell of a garbage problem. They’re pretty important. Like cops.”
“No, it’s not that.”
“Let me guess,” Riley said, “Lucia’s new guy is a garbageman?”
Gideon tensed. He didn’t reply; he didn’t have to. Riley lifted his arm and cupped the back of Gideon’s head, forcing Gideon to twist and look at him. “If I recall, he wanted to be an astronaut last month. I had a particularly long conversation with him where he somehow assumed I would be able to give him all the answers on how to make that happen. The month before that it was…” Riley trailed off, lips twisting in thought.
“Olympic swimmer,” Gideon supplied. “He’d moved up a grade in his swimming.”
“Why do you think that this isn’t also just a phase, from having someone new in his sphere? It’s likely after Dawson kicks the footy around with him and his friends that he’ll want to be a footy player for a month before he finds something else.”
“That particular dream has come around a few times,” Gideon said. “Lucia hopes he grows out of it, considering some of the injuries the players get.”
Dawson understood the concerns about sports players and their injuries. Contact sports weren’t an easy career choice. His own extremely short career playing had come to a halt due to an injury. He could have gone back after rehabilitation, tried for his shot at a spot on an AFL lineup. He’d probably have been drafted, but he’d found a new passion by then. He didn’t regret the decision he’d made to veer off on a different path.
“Does it bother you that Lucia is dating someone?” Riley asked.
Dawson froze, the thought not having occurred to him.
“No, I’m happy for her. I mean, it’s a little insulting she didn’t wait very long after we split to find someone new, but that has more to do with her appeal than me.” He played absently with Dawson’s fingers on his shoulder. “We’d been over longer than either of us wanted to admit. It’s hard to see those lines when she’s my best friend. What’s friend behaviour, and what’s something more?”
“What are you afraid of?” Dawson asked. There had to be more to it than him and his ex-wife finding their new normal.
“What if he likes this new guy better than me?” Gideon let out a short laugh. “That sounds so ridiculous when I say it out loud. Irrational and pathetic.”
“It’s not pathetic,” Dawson chastised. It was a pretty natural and normal feeling, given the circumstances. “You’re used to being the most important man in his life, so it’s not unusual to feel threatened by someone else.”
“Have you spoken to Lucia about it?” Riley asked.
“No. I don’t think it’s fair of me to put that on her. Hudson said sometimes he has sleepovers, and all I can think about is some other man tucking my son in, reading him a bedtime story, doing the things I should be doing with him. And I wonder if we didn’t try hard enough to make it work for him.”
“Staying together for the sake of a child never ends well for anyone involved, parents included,” Riley said. “If you’d done that, even your long-standing friendship wouldn’t have survived.”
“It’s hard to see someone else standing in your place,” Dawson said quietly. Not something he’d experienced before, but he could imagine it would be difficult. “But he’s not ever going to replace you, you know that, right?”
“What happens if he and Lucia work out?” He leaned his head back, exposing his throat. “Does Hudson call him ‘Dad’ too? Does he spend more time with my son than I do? Take him to Auskick? To his other activities? Come to parent-teacher nights? Where does he fit, and what does that mean for me?”
“It’s a little early to be worrying about any of that,” Riley said. “Lucia can’t have been dating him that long.”
“It’s not like I’m not doing the exact same thing, so I can add hypocrite to my list of transgressions.” He gestured at Riley and Dawson.
They hadn’t tucked Hudson in or read him a bedtime story—what kind of story was it?—but he understood what Gideon meant. It was a new world for both parents to navigate.
Dawson added pressure to Gideon’s jaw, getting his full attention. Gideon had the most beautiful brown eyes. The shade of colour changed depending on whether he smiled, frowned, laughed, got turned on, and even when he came. So expressive and open.
“It’s easy to see how much he worships you. No one will ever take your place in that regard. He’s your son, and you’re doing a fantastic job raising him. I only just met him today, and I know that. Today he’s interested in the new shiny bauble and making garbage with his playdough, and tomorrow it will be something else. Know what won’t change? That you’re his hero, and you’re his dad. It’s kind of like us, right?”
“In what way?” Gideon asked.
“There are three of us. Unconventional, and with room for jealousy. But there is none, because none of us are taking each other’s place. We’re finding room where we all fit. Maybe this guy will become important to Hudson. That doesn’t threaten your place with him, or where you fit. It’s just moving pieces.”
Gideon kissed him, hand gliding into Dawson’s hair, clenching. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I didn’t mean to unload all that on you.”
“It’s not the first time you’ve unloaded on me,” Dawson said, the corner of his mouth tugging up. He certainly hoped that Gideon got the double entendre.
Gideon burst out laughing. “How lucky for me that you’re so gracious about it.”
“I’m here for you.” Dawson brushed the pad of his thumb over Gideon’s stubble. “For anything.”
“Thank you.”
Dawson swallowed around the lump in his throat. He nodded, unable to voice everything that he felt. The fear from knowing this would all be snatched away soon grew every day.
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” Gideon said, settling back between them, “but I’m a bit of a mess. I can’t even get myself unpacked, and I’ve been living here over six months.”
“It’s okay for things to take time,” Dawson said. He played with the strands of Gideon’s short hair. “It took me years to unpack the last of my stuff when I moved out of home.” Laziness, mostly, but he hadn’t missed anything in the boxes that he and Sadie had stacked into the shed for unpacking “later.” A mysterious word that could mean in ten minutes, tomorrow, a month, or six years from now. There were still some in there that they hadn’t looked at in years. A lucky dip.
“This place was meant to be temporary while I sort myself out. What I really want is to get a place with a backyard for Hudson. Maybe get a dog. Like I have time for a dog. I barely have time for my own kid.”
“People can have busy lives and still have animals.”
“Says a man who hasn’t been with someone who gets called up at two in the morning and then doesn’t get home till almost midnight the same day,” Gideon said dryly. “The unpredictable hours are the reason that Hudson doesn’t have many sleepovers.”
“That’s why you befriend neighbours,” Dawson said reasonably. There were always ways to work things out if he really wanted to get a pet. “Or like… you can hire those services that come around and walk the dog while you’re at work?” Hell, Dawson would look after it during the day if that’s what it took to make Gideon smile.
“I’m a cop. Letting some stranger have a key to my house so they can go in and take my dog out of it is not something I’m willing to do.”
“I have to agree with that,” Riley said. “I’d say no to the neighbours for the same reason. Roommates are out too.”
“So paranoid,” Dawson teased.
“We’re homicide detectives,” Riley said.
Dawson hadn’t considered that. They didn’t investigate robberies or minor crimes. Instead, they saw the worst of humanity and just what people were capable of doing to each other.
“You’ll figure it out,” he said confidently. Both of them were successful, accomplished, and ridiculously mature adults. If they couldn’t figure it out, who could?
Dawson wanted to be by their side, figuring it out together.
Gideon hadn’t come to see him once that day. Riley checked the time on his computer. Nearing two in the afternoon. Even before they’d started sleeping together, something would have come into his inbox by now that made his eyebrow twitch. Or a knock at his door with a request that ended in, “Get out of my office right now, Gideon, before I fire you.”
Riley knew his increased workload, while partnerless, kept him busy, but that didn’t make it any less unusual that Riley hadn’t heard anything from him.
He might have counted himself lucky if things were normal. They weren’t normal. While he wouldn’t give Gideon special treatment or allow either of them to use the relationship to their advantage, they couldn’t deny that their relationship shift had changed something.
Riley threw down his pen, unable to concentrate. For fuck’s sake. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Their professional lives were separate from their personal ones. They had to be, in order to make this work and to keep it secret.
He emerged from his office and found Quinn and his partner, Grady, as well as two of his other detectives, Greer—who looked as he always did, a mixture of disgust and annoyance on his face—and his partner, Henry.
“Where is Gideon?” Riley asked, shooting the question at anyone who had the answer.
“Staff room,” Quinn answered. “He didn’t look that great, though. Think he might have caught whatever Ange has.”
Riley had been afraid of that. He searched Quinn’s face. Not even a hint of reprimand or judgement. Sebastian hadn’t told him yet. Trying to find the right moment, or giving Riley a chance to do it himself? Quinn deserved to have it come directly from the source and not through a third party. Still, Riley hesitated. The risk Riley took was his burden to bear, and he didn’t want to add that to someone else, or ask them to keep the secret.
Riley did an about-turn without responding.
Gideon sat at the table in the break room, a steaming mug in his hands. He looked listless, with closed eyes.
“Gideon.”
He jumped, tea sloshing over the side of the rim of his mug. “Fuck,” he hissed, leaning forward to grab a napkin.
Riley got there first. He dabbed at Gideon’s hand, studying him as he did. It was an understatement to call him a “bit” pale. “Did you sleep at all last night?”
“I look that good, huh? I was a bit restless; nothing I can’t handle.”
Slightly nasal. Riley finished wiping up the mess and moved the mug out of reach. He pressed the back of his hand to Gideon’s forehead.
“What are you doing?”
“Go home, Gideon.”
Gideon frowned. “I don’t think sleeping badly warrants going home, sir.” He’d used that honorific on purpose.
Riley sat on the chair next to him and forcibly turned him, trapping Gideon’s smaller thighs between his knees. “Don’t make me give you an order. You’ve visited Angela recently.”
“I took her some stuff and tidied her place. What does that have to do with anything?”
Riley checked Gideon’s hand. No burns. He lightly traced the smooth, warm skin. “Did you know that colds can be contagious?”
“I had no idea,” Gideon said, deadpan. “Where did you read that? You shouldn’t believe everything you see on the internet.”
“Pushing through because of sheer stubbornness gets you absolutely nowhere. Also, I cannot afford someone else in the department getting sick when we’re already down Angela—and now you. Pack up, and go home.” He curled his hand around Gideon’s neck and dragged him closer. He couldn’t afford to get sick himself, either, but he couldn’t not touch this man. Had wanted to since he’d been in his early twenties, and he hadn’t quite shifted to the reality that he could now. That Gideon wanted him the same way.
If only his younger self could see him now.
“Please,” Riley said, the words feeling strange in his mouth. “Go home, rest. For me.” So much for not letting their relationship seep into their work life. They’d been kidding themselves if they thought that would really work.
Gideon pouted. “How am I supposed to say no to that?”
Riley kissed the corner of his mouth and pressed his forehead to Gideon’s temple. “The point is to ensure you can’t.” He ran his stubble over Gideon’s soft jaw and tugged on his earlobe. “Are you going to behave for me, Gideon?”
Gideon’s shuddered breath went straight to Riley’s dick. How much could he get away with before someone came in? A miracle they even had it alone right now.
“Yea—” Gideon cleared his throat. “I can. I am.”
Riley kissed under his ear. “Good boy.”
Hands fisted in Riley’s jacket, and Riley slanted their lips together. Hopefully, his moment of weakness wouldn’t result in his own bout of sickness. Gideon tilted his head, reaching for more, and Riley all but pulled him into his arms, gathering him close.
“Maybe if we both get sick, we can share germs and put the box of tissues between us in bed.”
“How romantic,” Riley said indulgently. “It’s time for you to go home, sweetheart.”
Gideon swallowed and nodded shakily. “Okay.”
Riley lifted him from the chair and turned him towards the door. “Go, I’ll deal with your mug.”
Gideon went without argument, and by the time Riley returned to the bullpen, his jacket was gone from the back of his chair.
“Gideon will be staying far away from this office until he is no longer ill. Same goes for Angela,” Riley told them abruptly. “There will be no spreading of germs in here.”
“How shocking that you control air currents too,” Grady said dryly.
Riley ignored Quinn’s curious look. “Greer, my office, now.”
Greer’s jaw twitched angrily. The second Riley closed his office door behind them, he fired off, “I can’t fucking take any more cases.”
“Did I ask you to?” Riley asked mildly. He circled his desk and sat, making himself comfortable as he contemplated his most irate detective.
“I’m sorry, did you bring me in here for cookies and milk?” Greer asked sarcastically.
“You’re lactose intolerant.”
“Is there a point to this conversation?”
“You’re doing something outside of here.” Greer’s work with the NSWPD had a complication in the form of the government-sanctioned black-ops group that he worked for in secret. His work with them took precedence over anything that Riley gave him.
Greer didn’t say anything, and the silence stretched out.
“Greer?”
“Was that a question?”
Riley counted to five. “Yes.”
“We’re working on three connected missing person’s cases that were given to us under the table. Two were from Victoria, but one is here, and they were too lazy to deal with it, so they threw it our way.”
Riley didn’t bother asking how they connected. Not his case, not his business. He had enough to deal with in this office without inviting trouble. He mentally flicked through all of Gideon and Angela’s cases, attempting to work out an even split while they were both out of commission. He’d at least already shared out a few while Gideon had been alone with it.
“I need you to take three. Temporarily, Greer,” Riley said firmly. “Angela should be back within the next week.” She had better be. Otherwise, Riley might be forced to ask for temporary transfers. His least favourite thing to do; some of the other officers were lackadaisical and needed an instruction or two on etiquette and how to conduct themselves.
“No. Two.”
Riley sighed. Better than he’d expected, honestly. “Two,” he said, willing to compromise if it ended this conversation. “Get out of my office.”
“Gladly,” Greer muttered.
Once alone, Riley picked up his phone and scrolled to his recent calls.
Dawson didn’t answer, and Riley didn’t leave a message. They never gave enough time to articulate why he’d called, and the back-and-forth it could cause only gave him a headache. Dawson would either return his call, or he wouldn’t.
He did return the call a few minutes later. Riley ignored his latest report to answer it. “Dawson.”
“Riley,” Dawson replied in the same tone. “So serious all the time.” He paused. “Is something wrong?”
“Would that be the only reason I would call?”
“I don’t know; you tell me.”
The fact he hadn’t before meant nothing. When Dawson had called him, he’d answered and invited him into his home. That meant more than superfluous random conversations throughout the day. Besides, not initiating those didn’t mean he would hang up on Dawson if he called to “just chat.”
“Where are you working today?”
“Down near the Darling Island Wharf. Then we’re heading to North Ryde to look at a venue for some kid’s birthday party. Those are always a pain in the ass because parents.”
“When you’re done, if you don’t have any prior engagements, can you check in on Gideon?”
“Sure?” Dawson said slowly. “Is he alright?”
“A common cold. I sent him home, but who knows what he’ll do when he gets there?”
“I’ll pack my hazmat. Will we see you there?”
Riley glanced over the pile of work on his desk. He would need to spend his afternoon delegating and likely take on many of the cases himself until the duo were back on their feet. He preferred having a smaller team to deal with, though at times like this, he wondered whether he should apply to get one or two more teams. Something to talk to his father about. “I’ll be working late.” He might end up using the couch in his office.
“And will we see you there?” Dawson repeated.
Riley thought about the picture in the third drawer of his desk, sitting there like a ticking time bomb. He couldn’t ignore it forever. He would eventually have to confront the fact he hadn’t gotten rid of it the very first moment he’d laid eyes on it.
How long would Dawson accept the distance Riley had enforced? How long could they avoid the reason they’d even met in the first place?
“Yes,” Riley said, sealing his fate. He’d sealed it the moment he’d kissed Dawson in his car.