Chapter 6
KYLE
I was not falling for Ethan Andersen. I couldn’t be. He was a former student. Sure, that was a long time ago, but that didn’t change the fact.
I was just helping someone in need who was going through a hard time. That was a perfectly normal and innocent thing to do. I liked to help people. It wasn’t complicated, and it didn’t need to be examined any further than that.
Even as I finished labeling my morning yield and got it all packed in the cooler, I tried to convince myself that there wasn’t more than kindness behind my new obsession.
There was an instant and all-encompassing attraction to that sweet guy who just needed some guidance and support and maybe a damn hug.
My route on Mondays took me all the way across town before I doubled back toward Clayborne.
I had four planned stops, but Trevor Jones was on a work trip and forgot to cancel, so I had two extra jars that would have to be used or tossed within the next day or two. No big deal, but I did hate to waste.
I was heading back to my car after my last drop when my phone buzzed with a text from Ethan. Not feeling well. Gonna take the day off.
I stood on the sidewalk and frowned. He’s sick?
Was it serious? Honestly, I was more concerned than I had any right to be.
He was probably just tired after the long hours.
I was sure as hell feeling those hours in my back and arms. But what if it was something more serious?
I had to see him with my own eyes. Sorry to hear that.
I'd still like to come and get a few things done. Is that okay?
I watched the response dots appear and then disappear a few times before I put the phone in my pocket and loaded the cooler into the car. Finally, my phone buzzed, and I quickly read the message. Sure. Code to the door is 6455. Just come in.
As anxious as I was to see him, I still made a quick stop on the way.
The deli on Fourth made a delicious chicken soup.
I got a quart and a loaf of the sourdough while trying to convince myself this was just what you did when a friend was sick.
I’d never taken soup to a sick friend before, but that was beside the point.
The code worked on the first try, so I let myself in and then locked up behind me. It was dark in the coffee shop, but the aroma of fresh paint made me smile. We were really making progress.
I went through the shop and up the internal stairs that connected to the apartment above.
I’d never been up there before, but I’d watched Ethan run up and down the stairs a few times, so I had an idea where to go.
When I got to the door at the top, I knocked twice before trying the knob. It was unlocked. "Hi, Ethan. It's me."
"Come in." He called from deeper in the apartment.
“I come bearing soup!” The apartment was dark with the curtains still drawn, and it was slightly chilly.
"I'm in the room. Last door on the left."
The bedroom at the end of the hall wasn’t as dark as the rest of the place because he had a light on beside the bed. Ethan was tucked in with the covers pulled up to his chin and a stuffed bear peeking out from under one arm. He looked exhausted and like he might have been crying.
I pressed the back of my hand to his forehead and was relieved he didn’t have a fever. "What's going on?"
He shrugged one shoulder under the blanket and kept his eyes averted. "Don’t feel good."
That shouldn’t have made my belly tense up, but it did. "I brought soup."
He glanced at the bag in my hand. "You didn't have to do that."
"I know, but I wanted to." I ran my fingers through his hair to push it away from his face and attempt to nonchalantly see if he had a temperature. "I'll heat it up. Do you like sourdough?"
He nodded.
“I’ll be right back.” I went back to the kitchen and found a pot and poured the soup in to warm it up. While it heated, I opened a few cabinets, looking for bowls. The first one had spices and dry goods. The second one had glasses and mugs. But the third one stopped me cold.
There were baby bottles. Four of them were clean and stacked beside a few sets of small plates and bowls with cartoon characters on them. There were a few sippy cups tucked in the back.
Wrong cabinet.
Or was it?
I opened the last one and found the porcelain bowls and plates. I grabbed a bowl and put it on the counter. When I reached in the drawer right below it for a spoon, I also found a pacifier. An adult-sized pacifier in a small case. From the looks of it, a custom one.
Holy shit.
My mind was racing as I stood at the stove and stirred the soup.
Ethan was a Little. Or at least, he had been at some point. The bottles, the plates, the pacifier in its case, the stuffed bear in his arms. That was not a collection someone assembled by accident.
This new information changed things. At least, for me it did. If he was truly a Little who had been navigating the world all alone for almost a year, he needed me more than I realized. But the question weighing on my mind was whether he wanted that more from me.
He’d given me no indication that he was dating or the slightest bit interested in finding a new partner. Technically, I hadn’t given him any hints about my growing attraction either, but that flame of attraction was quickly becoming a raging inferno that I needed to address before my mind exploded.
I ladled the soup into the bowl and put the bread on a plate then loaded it onto a small tray I found leaning against the backsplash. With my features as calm as I could make them, I brought everything to the bedroom and carefully put the tray on the bed beside Ethan. “Lunch time, sweet boy.”
The term of endearment slipped out, and his eyes instantly locked with mine as he pushed himself up against the headboard and reached for the bread first. “Thank you.”
"Can I get you something to drink?" I slipped my hands into my pockets to keep from reaching over and feeding him myself. "Water…or maybe some milk?"
His eyes drooped and his lower lip popped out. "I got no milkies." He gasped as a flush crept up his neck, and he cleared his throat. "I mean. I'm outta milk. Water's fine."
I swallowed hard and tried to keep my tone light. "I actually have some with me. Fresh from this morning, if you’d like it."
“You have milk?” He was hesitant, probably working through all the reasons that might be. “Why?”
I didn’t want to lie, but I wasn’t sure now was the right time for this conversation. But since he asked, I had to answer. “One of my customers forgot to cancel his order, so I have a few jars left over.”
His mouth slowly opened and his jaw hung for a second. “Customers…like on the Milkman app?"
I wasn’t sure how he knew about the app, but his instant recognition of what I meant made things so much easier. "Exactly." I held his gaze and tried to be cool about it. “If you’re comfortable with that.”
He nodded immediately. "I am. I, uh, used to get milk from them sometimes. Usually on special occasions."
Thank fuck. That kind of revelation could go sideways quick, so the fact that he not only understood why I was on the Milkman app but had apparently ordered from it before was a huge relief.
I took a few steps back, still watching his face to make sure he was okay with the direction of our conversation. "Would you like it in a cup or a bottle?"
A crimson flush started at his neck and went all the way up his cheeks. He sucked in his lower lip and then looked down at the bear in his lap. “Um…”
I went back to him and cupped his cheek, brushing my thumb across his jaw. "It's okay, sweet boy." I kept my voice low and steady. "This Daddy is happy to feed his milk in a bottle, if that’s what you’d prefer."
His breath caught, and he nodded. "Okay."
I warmed a bottle at the kitchen sink with hot water and took my time with it. I wanted Ethan to have a minute with his thoughts and feelings, and honestly, I needed one too.
When he saw the bottle in my hand, his eyes welled up and even more tension released from his body. “Thank you so much!”
With his soup and bread a thing of the past, I moved the tray to his dresser and sat at the edge of his bed. “There you go, sweetheart. That’ll make you feel better.”
He held it in both hands and looked at me over the top of it, carefully suckling like every drop was precious. The bottle wasn’t small, but he drained it quickly and lay with closed eyes. “I forgot how good that is.”
I folded my hands in my lap and took the empty bottle from him. "I’m glad you like it. I’ve got a lot more where that came from."
He grinned at me and opened his eyes. "I can’t afford to be your client, but I’m happy to take any leftovers you ever have."
"Now that I know, I’ll bring you some every morning." That was a bit presumptuous, but it was also aspirational. I wanted every morning with him…in whatever capacity he offered. "It's even better from the source, I’ve been told."
He sucked in a breath, and his eyes went straight to my chest. "I bet it is."
I wasn’t sure I had the strength to keep this conversation going any longer, so I cleared my throat and took a step back. “Do you want any more of the soup or should I put it away?”
His eyes closed again, but he had the bear's ear in his teeth. “Away.”
“You got it.” I got up to put the discarded food in the kitchen, but before I left the room, Ethan had one more question for me.
"You said this Daddy." He kept his eyes on me even though I could tell he wanted to look away. "Are you really a Daddy?"