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“He will,” Cole says from my other side, nodding.
“They said the same about Mommy,” Mary says in a serious, too old for her age voice, “and then she died.”
I stop, go down on my knees and hug them both to me, because oh God, they’re ripping my heart to shreds. “Your daddy isn’t going to die. He isn’t going anywhere, either. Trust me, he’s already getting better, and he’ll be back on his feet by tonight. He just needs to rest.”
“I want to see him,” Mary says, and again Cole nods like a bobblehead.
“He’s asleep, resting. Maybe later—”
“Tay, bring them in,” Matt’s deep voice calls from inside the room, and we all still. “Come on in!”
Mary and Cole grin, and I laugh at their happy little faces. “Go on! Daddy wants to see you.”
They don’t lose time, slipping out of my arms, pushing the door open all the way and running into his room.
I follow just in time to see him open his arms to them. They climb on the bed like monkeys and sprawl all over him.
I cover my mouth, not laughing anymore, all choked up.
How am I going to keep my distance when everything these guys do touches me so deeply? It’s unfair. It’s like I have no defences against them.
Them, with their cuteness and sadness.
And him with his pain and roughness and raw sexiness.
Oh God, what am I going to do?
“What, what?” Matt is asking Cole, his raspy, deep voice drawing my attention even as I fight the pull. “What were you doing? Poop what?”
“The poop train,” Cole is saying.
Matt turns toward me, his dark gaze finding me and pinning me. “What are you doing with my son?”
“We’re potty training,” I say defiantly. “He’s old enough, and I asked Gigi to bring over our old potty.”
“Potty,” Cole says, grinning from ear to ear, proud of himself.
Mary laughs delightedly.
“You know how to train him for that?” Matt asks faintly.
“I trained Merc.” I snicker when I remember that. I was a kid myself, but loved playing at being my siblings’ mom. “He would drive me crazy.”
“Who’s Merc?” Mary asks.
“Merc is my little brother.”
“Like Cole?”
“Yes, like Cole is to you. Merc used to pee all over the bathroom. He didn’t like to aim with his weenie.” I stick my tongue out at Cole and he giggles. “And he also liked to tell me how big his poop was every time when he was done.”
“Boys have weenies,” Mary says seriously.
That kid cracks me up, especially nowadays when she doesn’t seem so angry and frustrated with herself all the time. She seems calmer. More like a five-year-old girl.
“That’s right,” I tell her, mirroring her expression. “Boys have weenies.”
“So you’re a potty trainer, too.” When I look up, I find Matt’s eyes on me again, and they’re amused and warm and interested. “And Merc is your brother. Merc as in… mercenary?
