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“Okay.” Isaiah would have promised him anything to get more of Mark’s strong hands.
“And there’s a steam shower in the master with multiple heads. Try either that or a hot soak in the deep tub. I’ll watch the kids so you can do it later.”
“Can’t. Haven’t been able to go in their room,” Isaiah admitted.
“I know.” Mark stopped rubbing to hold Isaiah close, and it took Isaiah a second to realize that this was a hug. As in Mark was hugging him. And probably didn’t even realize what he was doing. Didn’t know that Isaiah’s heart just trembled. “But we have to move on. And they’d want you to feel better. Tell you what, I’ll air it out later when you go get the girls from school. And when you’re ready, I’ll go in with you.”
“It’s just a bath in their bathroom.” Isaiah’s chest burned. “Shouldn’t make me this worked up.”
“It’s okay.” Mark pressed a kiss to the top of Isaiah’s head, then seemed to realize what he’d done. “Sorry. I just... I hate seeing you sad.”
“It’s okay. I like this.” Isaiah sagged against him, letting the cool breeze coming off the ocean wash over them both. “It helps.”
“I like it too.” Mark sounded genuinely surprised. “I liked massaging you. Just wish I was better at it.”
“You get any better at it and I’ll be a puddle of goo.” Isaiah laughed. “But you can practice on me whenever you want. Add to your skill set.”
“Maybe after your bath.” Mark still hadn’t released him, and Isaiah wanted to freeze this moment. He’d needed this hug in the worst way, more than he’d even realized.
“Now that’s incentive.” Isaiah groaned as Mark started rubbing his shoulders again. With another guy, Isaiah would ramp the flirting up a notch, offer to share the bath or shower. But this was Mark, and Isaiah was determined to let him lead. Even if the path was one that led straight to heartbreak for him. He just wasn’t strong enough to turn down more touches and affection from Mark.
* * *
“You’re doing the right thing here,” the lawyer said to Mark as he escorted him back to the lobby. “The motion to intervene will be well received. This way the court can appoint you financial guardian and this other kid—”
“Isaiah.” Mark wasn’t sure why he felt so protective, but he did. “His name’s Isaiah. And he’s doing a good job with the kids so far. He’s just so young. And I worry—”
“I know. And that’s why we’re getting you involved. The court will decide the best interests of the kids. And there’s absolutely nothing that says that you can’t be guardian and allow him extensive visitation. Or even continue to cohabitate.” The lawyer, Clancy Bolton, was an older man in a tight suit who liked throwing big words around to justify his hourly rate. Mark’s uncle had found him through a friend in the area.
Cohabitate. Was that really what he and Isaiah were doing? Some sort of weird roommate arrangement? He supposed it was, but it wasn’t nearly so clinical in his head. It was damn complicated, everything he felt for Isaiah—gratitude about how good he was with the kids, enjoyment of his company, something kind of like friendship, yet it was more tangled up than any other friendship he’d ever had.
“I’ll be in touch when the paperwork’s ready.” Mr. Bolton shook Mark’s hand, sending him on his way.
Mark hoped like heck he was doing the right thing. The hospital visit with Daphne had shown him how precarious their situation was, and he wanted to protect all of them. He never wanted to see Isaiah so afraid the state would take the kids again. He could trust Mark to make sure he’d always have access to them, even if he was going to be damn pissed that Mark had the lawyer. Which was why Mark hadn’t exactly told him about this meeting.
He’d need to bring it up carefully, work to not hurt Isaiah’s feelings. And since the paperwork would take some time, no sense in having the talk yet, not when everything was still so raw. Hell, neither of them was making much progress going through Cal and Daphne’s things. Isaiah had begged off the shower idea last night, claiming exhaustion after a bedtime battle that made Twister look like a sedate game.
But today he was bound to be sore again, moving stuff with his friends. And Mark had a plan. You just want an excuse to touch him again. And okay, maybe that was part of it. He’d been surprised how much he’d enjoyed massaging Isaiah, loving the feel of his muscles under his hands, the sounds Isaiah had made. In a way, it was even better than the making out had been, because there was no anxiety about where things might lead, what Isaiah might expect. The massage was something he could do for Isaiah, give him, and he’d been thinking about a repeat far more than he wanted to admit.
