14. Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fourteen
Soren
“Ipromise the next time we come that we’ll bring Stormy.” Noah grinned. “She loves Tibby and she’ll be great with the kittens.” He gazed at them with admiration. “They’re doing so well.” He knew about Carlos and had been empathetic—which Sam appreciated.
“Nice of you to come over to facilitate the official greeting.” We sat on the floor—in a penned enclosure—with Tibby, Peaches, and Jack.
Now everyone was formally introduced, Tibby was fascinatingly watching as the kittens climbed all over her while Sam and Christian were in the kitchen preparing the burgers for the barbecue.
The actual grilling was my job.
Noah shrugged. “Tibby’s a great dog. I recognized that from our first class together.”
“When she was eating my laces?” I rolled my eyes.
“Even then.” Noah sipped his diet cola. “She was the best in the class for the therapy-dog training. I’m also going to send you tips on socializing the kittens.
Bottle-fed youngsters can sometimes be a little feisty since they don’t have a mom to teach them manners.
You’re going to have to learn to hiss and set boundaries now that they will be out of the crate. ”
“Oh, that reminds me—the nursing home has approved our application. We make our first visit next week.”
“Yeah, I’d heard.” Noah glanced over his shoulder. “We’re not telling many people, and we don’t expect you to keep this from Sam, but we’re going for our final interview to become foster parents next week. We’re cutting back on activities in case, you know…”
“Oh God, Noah, that’s amazing. I know you and Christian have wanted this for so long.”
He nodded. “Dillon—Christian’s boss—is prepared to give him whatever time off he needs. The house is ready. The pets are as prepared as they can be.”
I cocked my head.
“We babysat Flora’s kids. At our house. I have to say that Sleepy—” He shrugged. “Darn dog slept the entire time. The kids kept Stormy, Sable, and River continuously engaged.” Those were the three dogs the men had rescued.
“And Snowy? Jasmine?” Their two rescue cats.
“Handled things surprisingly well. Even asked for attention a couple of times. We’ll see how they’ll do with super young kids who have grabby hands. I suspect they’ll just jump high and get out of the way—it’s what they do whenever we have exuberant puppies in the house.”
“Wow.” I rubbed my forehead. “That’s amazing. I know it’s all you’ve ever wanted.”
“You mean aside from marrying my best friend, starting a dog-training business, and having a house full of rescues?” Noah chuckled. “Yep. Right up there on the list.” A shaft of light hit his dark skin, and it shone. Much like what happened when I caught sight of Sam in a beam of sunlight.
“What was on the list?” Christian stepped over the edge of the pen and dropped onto the floor. Another ray of light caught his red hair, and his green eyes sparkled in amusement.
Peaches and Jack both made a beeline for the new arrival.
“Being foster parents.” Noah reached for his husband’s hand.
Christian blinked. “Yeah. That.” He cleared his throat and pivoted his attention to me. “You’re having a burger?”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
“What about your thingy?” He pointed to his gut.
For a moment, I was completely confused. Then I understood. “The liver enzyme issue?”
He nodded.
“I have to be careful what I eat. But a burger will be okay.” Even as I said the words, though, I did a quick backward reflection on my diet for the last month and winced inwardly.
“What liver enzyme issue?” Sam stood just outside the pen with a plate piled high with burgers and corn on the cob just waiting to be grilled.
I rose. “Nothing to worry about. Let me get going on that.”
Christian whispered, “sorry,” as I passed him.
I waved him off. After stepping outside the pen, I reached for the plate.
Sam held it away. “I’ll join you at the barbecue.”
Crap. “Aren’t you worried about the kittens?”
In unison we turned.
To find Christian cuddling Peaches, Jack playing with Noah’s shirt, and Tibby with her head on Noah’s lap and her eyes closed.
“I think they’ve got it in hand. Let’s go.” Sam’s voice was a little sharp.
With a sense of dread, I followed him out to the back patio. The sun shone brightly, and I grabbed a spare pair of sunglasses I kept in a bowl for just this instance.
Sam, whose glasses were on his head, pulled them down to cover his eyes.
Double damn. Now I couldn’t see his eyes. Those things that were always so expressive. The things that often gave me an insight into what the man was thinking.
He put the plate with the burgers and corn on the shelf next to the grill.
I was relieved to find he’d put a barrier between the two so the juice of the raw meat didn’t get onto the vegetable. “Are we doing kebobs as well? Or did we decide not to? Last I heard, you guys were discussing onions and—”
Sam pivoted and, without a word, went back into the house.
I fired up the grill and put the burgers on one half. I nabbed the spatula and prepared to make these wonderful treats as perfect as possible.
A plate of kebobs hit the other shelf next to the barbecue.
“Are you mad at me?”
The burgers started to spit.
“Also, are we eating out here? We’ve got shade. We might even go for a dip in the lake and—”
“What liver enzyme?” Sam moved so he faced me. “That sounds really serious, and you’ve never said anything.”
I shrugged. “It’s not a big deal.”
Instantly, though, I acknowledged my mistake. Sam’s face crumpled, his mouth turned down, and he appeared…hurt.
I closed the lid on the barbecue. Then I sighed. “We had so much going on those first few days. And then, just when things started to even out, we lost Carlos—” I swallowed. “I, uh—” I scratched my cheek. “Okay, I’ll say my doctor wouldn’t be thrilled with my diet over the past month.”
“Soren.” Sam. Speaking quietly.
“I have a list of foods I need to, at the very least, cut back on. I’d been doing really well. My last test showed improvement.”
“What foods?” He arched an eyebrow.
“Well—” I scratched my stubbled jaw again.
I’d meant to shave, but Lolita had texted me with an issue I had to deal with.
Knowing Noah and Christian were coming over pushed work to the top of the to-do list so I could focus on our friends when they arrived.
“Processed foods. Salt. Refined carbs.” I winced.
He just stared.
“Hey, we eat lots of healthy stuff too. Leafy vegetables, fruit, and fish. We cook with olive oil—”
“Because that’s the only oil you have in the house.
Which should’ve been my first clue.” He rubbed his forehead.
“All that bad stuff? That’s stuff I brought into your house.
Or agreed to have you buy. I’ve been watching my portions—knowing stress eating is a real thing for me—but it never occurred to me that any of this might’ve been making you sicker. ”
“I’m not sick.”
He arched an eyebrow.
“Much.” I raised the lid, flipped the burgers, and put the lid back down. “Look—” I took a deep breath and let it out. “I’m a grown-up. I chose to prioritize other things in the last month—”
“Soren.” With disappointment.
I winced again. “All right. I was wrong. I just didn’t want you worrying about me while you dealt with all the other shit you had on your plate.”
“I can do two things at once. Hell, I’ve been juggling ten balls in the air since everyone died. Everyone except Quinta.” He bit his lower lip.
“Exactly. So you added yet another ball with the kittens. Instead of letting them all fall—I’ve tried to give you a hand.
Done everything I can to facilitate you surviving.
And you have. We all have. Dr. Malcolm said the kittens are in perfect health, and they’ve had their first shots.
They’re eating food. You can start looking for homes for them—”
This time, he winced.
“—or we can figure out how to kitten-proof my house.” I shot him a quick glance before opening the lid of the grill again. This time, I put the corn and kebobs on the other half, checked the burgers, and then finally dared to look at Sam. “Or we can determine how to integrate them into your house.”
He rubbed his nose. “What are you trying to say?”
God, what am I trying to say? It’s been a month. Am I really ready for this.
Fuck.
Yes. Yes, I am.
“What I’m trying to say—badly—is that I want you to consider moving in with me. Temporarily—for now.”
He laughed. A little gratingly. “Soren, I haven’t spent more than five minutes in my house since I came to yours. I practically do live here. Which is, I think, part of the issue.”
“What do you mean?” I rotated the corn and checked to ensure the kebobs weren’t singeing.
“That if you wanted me to really be here, then you would’ve been honest with me.”
Ouch.
Yeah…but he’s not wrong.
Before I could say anything, though, he let out a breath. “And we still haven’t addressed the elephant in the room.”
I could guess what he was referring to. But it would be just a guess. “That is?”
Again with the arched eyebrow. “The fact we haven’t done more than kissing or cuddling.”
After holding his gaze as long as I dared, I eyed the kebobs and decided they needed to be rotated. I turned the corn again. Just to be on the safe side. “Have I given you any indication—and I mean any little, tiny thing—that I’m unhappy with our relationship with way it is right now?”
He smothered a sigh.
Or at least that’s what it looked like to me. He rubbed his hand over his face, gazed upward, then finally looked back at me.
Fuck. I want to see his eyes so badly. I need to know what he’s thinking.
Still, I held myself still.
“No.” He put his hands on his hips. “But you also shut me down every time I try to talk about it. I’m so freaking grateful to have help with the kittens that I haven’t even really contemplated anything else.”
I grabbed the plate that had held the kebobs. “Well, I’m asking you to contemplate more.” Gingerly, I lifted each off the grill and put them on the plate. “I’m going to need another plate. And did we decide if we’re eating out here?”
“Just give me thirty seconds.”