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Ian let out a tense breath. He didn’t think he could eat.
“Eat,” Jameson said. “I think Jack wants us to act as normal as possible.”
Fuck. As if he even knew what normal was anymore. Worry for her was his one constant.
But they finished their dinner and Jack brought his laptop back over to work on it as Ian put her dinner in the oven to warm up.
About ten minutes later, she started stirring and the blanket was pulled off. Leaning back, she glanced up at Jack.
“Sorry.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You know better than that, baby girl.”
Nodding, she pressed her face into his neck and shoulder. He patted her back lightly for a moment.
Standing, he deposited her in Ian’s lap.
“Ian needs you,” he whispered, even though Ian could hear him clearly. “He’s freaking out.”
Ian shot Jack a look, but the other man whistled as he moved to the oven and grabbed her dinner.
“How are you doing, Little girl?” Ian asked gruffly.
“It . . . Indie . . . I . . .”
“Not yet,” Jack told her firmly. He put the plate of food down. “Dinner, then talk.”
“I can’t eat,” she protested.
“You need to eat,” Ian told her. He tried to soften his voice, but it still came out sounding like an order. “Can someone get me a pillow or a cushion?”
“I’ll get it.” Jameson jumped up and ran out of the room.
“He has to chill,” Jack said, returning to the table with a cup of coffee.
“Can I have a coffee?” Maggie asked.
“No,” Ian told her. “You need to eat and drink water. No coffee this late at night. It will keep you up.”
“Jack’s drinking coffee.”
“Jack isn’t my Little. He can do what he likes.”
“It’s good to be Big,” Jack sang.
Turning her head, she poked her tongue out at Jack.
He grinned. “Keep doing that and I’ll find something to occupy that tongue.”
Just as he said that, Jameson walked back in. “Um, I can leave.”
“Nah, we know you like to watch,” Jack said.
“Jack!” Maggie and Jameson said together, before sharing an embarrassed look.
It was cute.
But he had more important things to do.
