“Please? I won’t do it again.”
Finn pulls his pants up, and Jay covers his own disappointed cock with the quilt.
“I hope not. Forty-eight hours isn’t going to feel as long as a month will. You scared me. You scared Leo. What if he had run you over? How would that make him feel?”
“Sorry, Leo. I didn’t think.” He rolls over, pulling the blanket up over his head, and effectively uncovering Jay.
Leo nods, but he doesn’t let Luca off the hook easily.
“You need to think, Luca. That was irresponsible. What about tomorrow night? You have to be on point. We all have to bringour A-game. Can you do that? If you can’t, I know Nimue or Ignatius would watch over you for the night.”
Luca flings off the blanket, so it falls to the floor.
“No. I’m not leaving Gideon. I can do it.”
“Okay, then. Let’s get this stuff washed and in the dryer, so Jaybird can cover his sore ass.”
Luca grumbles but drags the three bags of clothing into the restroom, where the stacked washing machine and dryer are located.
“Hey, you can’t know my ass is sore. My chip is offline,” Jay complains, rolling over so he can see his mates better and shield his dignity.
“I don’t need the chip to know your ass is sore. I’ve been there and been done like that.” He points at Finn, waggling his eyebrows.
“Why is my life so hard?” Finn sighs, thankfully following Luca into the laundry room—now maybe everything won’t be a singular shade of gray or pink.
Gideon flops onto the bed and puts his hand on Jay’s (yes, sore) ass, lifting a cheek and then letting it fall so it jiggles (a little bit).
He’s not even appreciating the squats Jay puts in, he’s just absently soothing himself.
“You okay, love?”
“Fuck no. I hate clothes shopping. I hate people. I hate that I’m taking them to kill my father tomorrow. I hate ball sports and applesauce.”
“Uh…”
Jay rolls onto his side, and Gideon lies down, too, sock-covered toes rubbing along Jay’s shins.
The width of the small bed is close quarters enough that Gideon avoids his eyes.
Instead, he slides that absent finger up Jay’s cock, before he stops and whispers, “Kids play sports, Jay. They eat applesauce.”
There is no way Gideon went from murder to pulverized fruit snacks with nothing in between.
Leo joins them at the foot of the bed.
“Luc put some baby stuff in the cart at Target. Gid’s been like this ever since.”
“Oh.”
Gideon slaps the bed. “Yeah, oh. You don’t get it. They need shit. They need to eat shit. Sometimes they actually eat literal shit. What do I know about feeding kids? Nothing. What if they cry? What if they puke on…stuff?”
Without another word, Gideon gets up and starts pacing the small space, thunderstorm scent rolling through the room.
“Gideon. We’ve got some time. There is nothing the eight of us can’t do. Nothing. If I know anything, I know that together, we can do this. Now tell me. What’s really bugging you?”
A heartbeat later, he’s frozen in front of the stack of mattresses.
“I’m not good for them. Fuck, I know you love me. That I’m important to you. We’re fucking fated. But they’re defenseless babies. What if I’m like him and I…ruin them?”
