Chapter 17
TYLER
Despite Denny’s comments on my socks and glasses and wanting to fuck, he’s asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow now that he’s back at hockey. Which is a little frustrating because I want to fuck. It’s a tease to tell me he wants to fuck and then that damn man falls asleep.
I remain in bed, waiting for Denny to wake up. The last time we fucked—the only time—was first thing in the morning. However, Ty’s quiet whimpers begin as soon as I roll over.
Sighing, I crawl out of bed and pull the side sleeper away before picking Ty up. “Shh,” I murmur. “Daddy’s tired. He works hard, you know.”
With a glance at Denny, I leave the bedroom and quietly shut the door behind us. “Think you’re patient enough to have a clean butt and let me get some real clothes on?” I ask as we head into the spare room. Trophy room. My room. Ty’s nursery. It’s certainly a multipurpose room.
I don’t want to push, but I think maybe I should drop a few more hints here and there that we should set Ty’s room up. We left most of the nursery furniture at Sally’s. Besides, Ty should have a permanent room.
Maybe he’s not convinced that he wants to be a parent forever. Is that why he’s not in a hurry to get this room put together? Then again, he’s back at hockey now. It might just be because he’s tired.
“I’m going to choose to believe that,” I tell Ty. “Daddy’s just tired. This isn’t a reflection on anything else.”
Something niggles in my gut. Probably because I’ve been edged without being touched. That’s what the feeling is.
You knew he didn’t want this, I silently say to my sister. That’s why you never included him in your plans for when Ty arrived. Isn’t it?
I’m no closer to solving the mystery of Sally agreeing to marry him.
Hell, I’m still trying to work out the password on her damn phone!
The only thing I’ve been able to do is answer calls, which have been her work, and a creditor, who I might add, had no sympathy for their client dying.
They still want their money and don’t like being told too fucking bad.
The only thing I’ve truly done in the time since Sally passed was to gain access to her bank account to make sure there are no bullshit credit cards or whatever getting ahold of her money.
That’s for Ty. With her death certificate—which I might have bawled over for a very, very long hour when I held it for the first time—I’ve been able to gain access to all her finances and transfer everything into my name or Ty’s.
I didn’t bother with the credit cards. If they want to try to come after the slinking assets that I’m slowly working out of Sally’s name for a few hundred dollars, they’re going to lose a lot more in fees than they’re going to gain.
With the death certificate in hand, Denny helped me sell myself the property, and he’s already in the process of paying it off.
If we left it in Sally’s name, which had been my initial idea, any debt she left behind could be put into a lien on her house.
Once the sale is final, we’re going to set up a trust, so the house belongs to Ty.
He also paid off Sally’s car, which is the one I’ve been driving. Not that I’ve driven it much. I only drive it around the block every few days so it doesn’t sit for too long without being driven.
It feels good to get Sally’s things in order.
It also hurts like nothing else because it only emphasizes that she’s gone.
With every new thing we close out or transfer, it’s one more punch to the gut that I’ll never see her again.
I’ll never talk to her. It’s a reminder that I was hours too late to see her after seven months.
That’s always going to sting. More than anything, I wish I’d left as soon as my apartment was empty, and fuck the job.
I can’t dwell on it. At least I found her son. At least baby daddy is a good man and is helping me secure everything of Sally’s I want to keep, either for myself or for her kid.
Once Ty is clean and I’m dressed, I bring him into the kitchen and begin making him a bottle. He’s definitely fussy now. Frustrated that he’s not immediately being fed. Like he’s going to waste away.
“I know you’re being dramatic,” I tell him as I rock him around the kitchen. “You’ve hit every milestone for your age at your four-week well-child check. You’re a growing boy!”
Bottle in hand, I bring Ty into the living room, and we settle into the recliner with the curving pillow to settle him on. I can prop him right so he gets very little air while he drinks and therefore doesn’t spit it all back up again.
While he drinks, I rock us gently. Ty’s eyes are open this morning, though his eyelids are heavy. I brush his soft head of hair as I stare at him. Such a perfect little boy.
A month. I can’t believe he’s a month old. More than that, I can’t believe Sally’s been dead for a month. It’s been a month since I heard her voice. I’m thankful that the last time we talked was in a video call. I got to see her with Ty. She was smiling. Happy. Absolutely smitten with her son.
Denny’s voice from down the hall makes me stop rocking to listen. I can’t tell what he’s saying. His voice keeps going in and out. Is he talking in his sleep? Does he think I’m there, and he’s talking to me?
When I hear him laugh, I think he’s probably on the phone. Denny comes down the hall in his underwear, and if I weren’t holding Ty, I think I’d probably have a lot of feelings about it. He talked about my slutty socks, but we haven’t talked about this man in nothing aside from underwear.
I wonder if he’d be open to wearing a jock. Or thongs. Maybe some skimpy panties. I’d love to see his goods struggle to remain contained.
His eyes meet mine when I look up from his cotton-clad junk. He’s smirking as he stops beside the recliner and rests his hand on my head before doing the same to Ty.
“I don’t know, man. I leave Tyler here for hours at a time with Ty.” He turns and walks toward the kitchen while I frown after him, trying to follow the single side of the conversation.
“Maybe,” he says. I won’t pretend to know him well, but I think even I can tell that ‘maybe’ is really a no.
He returns a few minutes later, off the phone, and sits on the couch facing me. “You don’t have to keep getting up with him.”
“You’re exhausted,” I tell him. “I stay home all day.”
“You stay home with Ty all day. We both know that’s more demanding than my few hours out of the house for hockey.”
“I disagree. I’m not negating that it’s challenging at times, but you aren’t only giving three or four hours a day to hockey. You’re also in the gym downstairs for a couple of hours every day. You clean your pads every day, which I’ve noticed is not a short process.”
“Pads can smell if you don’t tend to them.”
“Yes. I’ve smelled your hockey stench.”
He grins.
“I’m just saying. You’re tired, and when you’re out doing hockey things, I get to take a nap with Ty.”
Denny sighs.
“Also, you should hang out with your friends.”
He raises a brow in my direction. Once Ty burps, I get to my feet and place him in Denny’s arms. I watch for a minute as Denny immediately hugs him and kisses his head softly.
“I know you believe that you’re putting me out, and it’s not my responsibility to be with Ty all the time because I’m just the uncle, but I want to be here every single day.
Every hour. This is what I want. I’m telling you what I want.
Stop thinking of me as… an uncle that comes around sometimes and is doing you a favor.
I told you I want a permanent place in Ty’s everyday life. Remember?”
“When are you going to go out with friends or whatever?” he asks.
“I don’t have friends in Winnipeg, and my friends in Vancouver are more than a road trip away. If I want to go out, I’ll tell you. I’ll go. But right now, all I want is to be here with Sally’s baby. Okay?”
Denny studies my face, and I hold his stare. He needs to see that I’m serious. Eventually, he sighs and looks down at Ty. “Okay. I hear you.”
“Are you going to remember that the next time your friends call to hang out?”
The corner of his mouth tugs. “Possibly.”
“Then call them back and tell them you’ll hang out. Make plans.”
“Yes, Daddy.”
“At least you know who’s the Daddy here,” I mutter as I head for the kitchen, his laughter following on my heels. I stay there long enough that I hear him return the phone call. I smirk when he tells them I’m forcing him on a playdate.
I return with breakfast sandwiches. Denny has already put Ty in his cradle, so his hands are free when I give him food.
The charge that’s lingered between us since he came home from practice and found me in the kitchen feels extra hot right now. My heart pounds. I can hear it in my ears. I can practically feel the way it dumps blood south.
Denny gets to his feet, and my eyes drop to his cock. I’m glad I’m not the only one feeling the energy spark between us. Before he reaches me, the loud-ass doorbell fills the house.
He scowls, and we both look at Ty. He squirms, probably having been startled by the loud sound. “I need to turn that shit down,” he mutters and then looks at himself. “Want to see who’s there while I get some clothes on? Don’t open the door if it’s my mother.”
“Yep,” I answer and get to my feet. His hand brushes against my stomach as we pass each other, and I try not to let the excitement rush through me at his touch. Whoever this is, it’s going to be a short fucking visit.
I stop in the dining room to peer out the window. It’s not the same car his mother had been in. There’s nothing significant about the vehicle in the driveway.
A knock follows the doorbell, and I go to the door, sliding the deadbolt back and cautiously opening the door only a few inches, but this time, keeping my foot behind it so no one can shove past me. “Yes?”
“Hello. Mr. Willow?”
I shake my head. “He’s coming. You can wait if I can’t help you.”
“I’ll wait. Thank you.”
Shrugging, I shut the door. I’m not letting the cold March air in.
Denny comes around the corner a minute later. “Who is it?”
“Dunno. They didn’t want to talk to me.”
He frowns. “All right,” he says, dragging the word out as I step away from the door. The man is right where he’d been when I shut the door a moment ago. “Can I help you?”
“Mr. Willow?”
From behind the door, I roll my eyes. Who else would it be?
“Yes,” Denny answers. “And you are?”
“Hello, Mr. Willow. My name is Nate Folley. I’m with Children’s Aid Societies. I’ve been asked to stop by and check in on your new baby.”
Fear grips my chest. What the fuck?
“Why?” Denny asks. “Is this routine for new babies?”
“No, sir. We’ve received an anonymous tip that the infant in your care might be exposed to situations that could put him in danger. Would you mind if we had a conversation and I could observe your newborn?”
I can practically see Denny’s hackles rise. There’s a moment that I think he’s going to refuse this man entry, but he takes a step backward and invites him into the house.
“Take your shoes off,” Denny says as he shuts the door behind Nate. We wait until he does. Denny meets my eyes, a severe frown still on his face. Once Nate is out of his winter gear, Denny and I lead Nate into the living room, where Ty is asleep.
“You can observe, but you cannot touch him,” Denny says. “While I don’t consider myself a paranoid man, his immune system is vulnerable and, quite frankly, you’re a stranger.”
Nate inclines his head. “Understood, Mr. Willow.” He stands a few feet away from Ty, watching as he sleeps. “Can you tell me a little about your situation?”
“What exactly do you want me to tell you? I’ve been here with my son since I brought him home.
I’ve only recently gone back to work, while Tyler’s been here with him.
He’s never left alone, if that’s what you’re asking.
As was the case just now, we’re sometimes in another room but not for more than a few minutes. ”
Nate nods. “How does he eat?”
“Through his mouth,” Denny deadpans.
Nate looks at Denny and then laughs. “How often, Mr. Willow?”
“Every few hours.”
“Do you keep a record?”
“Who does that?” I can feel Denny’s frustration.
“I do,” I say, and pull out my phone to bring up the note app on my phone. “I’ve made a tracker for his feeding and changing because I read somewhere that it’s a good idea for the first few months.”
I bring my phone to Nate. He studies me.
“This is Tyler,” Denny says. “He’s Sally’s brother.”
“Sally is your deceased fiancée, correct?” Nate asks as he looks at Tyler’s phone.
“Yes. And Ty’s mother.”
“What do the m and f mean?” Nate asks Tyler.
“Milk or formula. We only switch to formula if we’re low on milk or if April suggests supplementing if the hospital is running into a shortage.”
“You receive milk from the hospital,” Nate repeats.
“Yes,” Denny answers. “I have since Sally died.”
Nate hands Tyler’s phone back to him and watches Ty sleep for a minute longer. Then he turns to face Denny. “I’m sorry, Mr. Willow. I don’t see anything inappropriate here. I’m sorry for interrupting your morning.”
“Inappropriate?” Denny asks.
“Yes. We received a call that your newborn was being exposed to a dangerous and inappropriate situation.”
I see the moment something clicks because fury immediately ignites in Denny’s eyes.
“That’s likely my mother who called. She barged her way in when I was out of the house and ripped my newborn from Tyler’s arms, forced him to feed after he just ate, and when I got home and kicked her out, she made sure to inform me that a male nanny was inappropriate for a baby. ”
“Ah,” Nate says. “That clarifies some details. Thank you.”
Denny follows Nate to the door, repeating the situation with his mother. I can hear the barely restrained anger in his voice.
What kind of parent does this?