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The treehouse project continues,and I’m gutted I have to go to work tomorrow and miss watching Quin and Curty, geeking-out over construction methods and the smell of wood in our backyard. Our boy has come inside each day exhausted, deliriously happy, and smelling of sunshine and sawdust. I pull him in close before bath time, bend my nose to his hair, and breathe him in.
I wish I could do the same to Quin.
It’s so hot, they have the hose out today. They’ve filled up Curty’s old paddling pool, and Loosh is lying in it, drinking beer and watching my boys play together — and not in a creepy, observing-for-Jack way, either. There’s a faint shadow of a smile on his lips, and I have to agree that they’re fun to watch, teasing each other one minute, and then getting all serious about a measurement the next.
This is the kind of life I always dreamed we’d have. A big old house with a huge yard, where the neighbors aren’t too close, and the warmth of a loving family all around.
I wish I could go out and play with them. Especially when Curty sprays Quin with the hose. Quin tosses his tools aside, and a crazy chasing game ensues that ends up with Curty being scooped up and plunged into the pool next to Loosh. Loosh grumbles about his beer spilling, before grabbing the hose, shoving Quin in the pool, and spraying him and Curty both, until they’re choking from laughing too hard, while their faces take a serious spritzing.
“Too far, Loosh,” Quin cries between coughing and laughing and trying to get the hose back. It turns into a play fight, and inevitably ends up with Loosh and Curty, sitting on Quin and blasting him with water some more.
I lean against the windowsill with a sigh. I’m almost scared to go out there, sometimes, because it’d be so easy to break through the invisible ten-foot barrier and spring into Quin’s arms.
I’d die, but I’d die happy.
My cheek tickles, and I brush away a tear and head back to the kitchen, to finish the refreshments I’m making them. I wish I could sit in a big pile with Quin and Curty under the tree and feel their warm skin on mine, while we all just… touch. A family unit.
But I have to leave them to it.
It’s nice for them, to share this alone time together.
I flick my gaze to Lucius, who’s being included in absolutely everything, yet still seems distant. Less so than the first day, but he’s not fully leaning in to the tasks, and it’s like he can’t completely trust the process.
They don’t make him feel weird about it — just let him be — and I’m so proud of Curty, for how accepting he is of all his brothers’ differences. I teach him what I can within our sphere of life, but when he’s with his brothers, it’s Quin who watches over him and shows him how to be a good human.
Another sigh escapes me, but it’s one of the dreamy ones. The kind that come automatically when I’m thinking about how wonderful my guy is and my brain goes into Disney-princess mode, waiting for thatSomeday My Prince Will Comething.
He has to come back to me.
I need him. I need this family to be real.
It’s all I ever hoped for, and even something as simple as making them snacks on a summer day, while they play outdoors, feels like a blessing. I gather all the food into a basket, to take out. I’ve made a ton, because Quin eats a lot and Loosh eats twice as much.
“You, working men, need protein?” I ask loudly as I approach, to give Quin some warning.
He whips his head up, and he smolders at me. I can almost hear his thoughts —I’ll give you some fucking protein.
I wet my lips suggestively and set the picnic basket down. “Feel free to tuck in while I go back for the cups and drinks. You’ll be thirsty after all that hard work. I know I could use something to wet my whistle.” I glance at Quin, and he casually adjusts the bulge in his jeans while he stares back.
I waggle my eyebrows at him. Just once, so as not to get noticed by the others.
“We drank out of the hose,” Curty informs me. “Tastes kind of like plastic, but Quin said that’s part of working outside. Men don’t need cups. Right, Loosh?”
Loosh finishes the last of his beer and sets the bottle next to several other empties. “Bottles work fine,” he says before belching loudly. “You’re driving home later, Q.”
“I gathered that,” Quin says, still staring at me. “I took the keys away from you an hour ago.”
Loosh feels around his soaked pockets and grunts. “Probably best not to keep those in the water, anyway.”
“You need help, bringing anything out, Kira?” Quin asks. “A cup for yourself, maybe?”
He offers because it’s polite, and I refuse just as politely. It’s an act we keep up, so our interactions appear like a normal conversation, and it must work, because Curty doesn’t seem to notice that we’re never much closer to each other than the other side of a room.
“I’ll definitely get a cup, because I don’t want plastic-tasting hose water, but you stay here. I’ll take care of it,” I say with a smile, already moving back toward the house. I put a little extra sass in my walk, using my high-cut denim shorts to maximum ass-jiggling effect for him.
“I’m going to go the bathroom before I eat, but you guys go on and start without me,” I hear Quin say, as I head up the back steps. “This food looks too good, to pass up.”
