Page 57
A glance at my watch tells me I might have ten minutes before my first workday actually begins, but that doesn’t matter. It’s my job to care for two little boys. I’m committed to it, and no heartbreaking realizations about what I let myself turn into are going to stop me from following through, dammit.
The low rumble of an adult’s voice follows the loud chimes of the doorbell, and only after a few indiscernible sentences can I make out actual words, and the owner of the voice.
“Boys, I need you to help me,” Tucker says, with obvious strain in his voice, even if I shouldn’t know that considering how little time I’ve spent talking to him before this moment. “I know you don’t want me to put you down, but I need to open the door so Sunny can come in. You remember Sunny, don’t you? You guys hung out at the office on Monday.”
My heartbeat quickens ridiculously at how patient his words come out despite the strain and the stress.
Whatever made one or both of the boys cry is obviously affecting him too, but he’s keeping it together.
That’s a good sign. That’s what parents all around the world are supposed to do every day.
There’s a long moment of silence and then the soft click of the lock before the door opens slowly, the handle still held by one little hand.
A hand that’s connected to one of the twins propped up on Tucker’s right hip, and of course the other boy is on his left, and Tucker is . . .
Fuck my fucking life.
Skin.
Tanned, taunt, muscled skin.
Tucker Barclay is shirtless.
Gorgeous, with his brown hair in disarray, and with worry scrunching his brows, his mouth pressed into a flat line. A thin, gold chain holding a thick gold ring is the only thing he’s wearing, and why is that so attractive?
It’s only the sound of a small, really sad-sounding sniffle that makes my gaze move from the most gorgeous sight I’ve ever seen.
The boys have clearly been crying for a while. The one who opened the door is wearing red pajamas, which means he’s Maddox if my memory serves me. He looks calmer than the one with green pajamas—Mason—who’s clinging desperately to Tucker’s neck and has his little face buried in his older brother’s face.
“Hello,” Maddox says, his voice quiet and whiny. His eyes are red with a tear sticking valiantly to his lashes.
“Hey, Maddox,” I say, voice low and unsure.
“You can tell them apart?” is Tucker’s only greeting? A bit rude? Maybe other people would think so, but I can imagine what kind of insane hell he’s been through this morning just from seeing them for less than a minute.
An early morning tantrum is a brutal battle for anyone, but when there are two boys . . . oh yeah, maybe my salary is justified.
“Maddox loves red,” I tell him, sure that’s enough explanation, then gesture for him to step back without actually looking at him.
I’m not doing that, nope, no way in hell.
Thankfully he does step back, and that’s when thundering steps come from the hallway leading to the back of the house.
The man walking purposefully to a door off the left is big, like professionally big—muscles, over six feet, the whole thing—but he barely glances at the front door so I guess he’s focused on his mission. Something to do with the tantrums possibly.
I drag the suitcases behind me and turn to close the door when they’ve cleared the threshold.
I take two seconds for a last fortifying breath, and have my calm smile ready when I face them again.
“All right, it’s almost time to go to daycare, so what seems to be the problem, boys?”
“Ottie,” comes Mason’s small voice still muffled against Tucker’s neck.
“Who’s Ottie?” I ask, assuming I heard right until they correct me.
“He’s Mace’s stuffie. He’s an Ottopuss and has three hearts,” Maddox explains seriously, his adorable toddler voice butchering the word a little, but I understand well enough, and I have to battle against my soft heart to stay on task.
The boys’ lives have changed completely. Not only are their parents no longer living with them, but they’re living in a completely different place. It’s probably been enough time that their little minds are catching up to the fact that this isn’t a fun extended sleepover with Tucker. While they get acclimated, their transitional objects will more than likely have a bigger impact on their day-to-day—the fact that Maddox won’t let go of a blue stuffed elephant is all the proof I need.
