You Can Count On Me (Christmas Daddies, #2)

by Fae Quin

“Pops says violence is never the answer,” Bubba quoted again, but his eyes were full of mischief this time. “But Theodore Roosevelt said ‘speak softly and carry a big stick.’

Gram said so, and she never lies. Which I think might’ve been a lie. But…when I think too hard about it I just get confused.”

His eyes said, thank you. They said, they’re perfect. They said, it’s okay.

And he’d been asking me way too many questions lately about what kinda boyfriend I thought I’d like to pick. Like finding one was as easy as popping by the grocery store and hunting the aisles. I wished it was. Give me a tall bottle of big, protective, and soft-hearted and I’d be set.

They said, is this okay? They said, I don’t want to scare you. They said, let me help.

I’d been a train stop for a lot of people, but I was self-aware enough to know I wasn’t anyone’s ultimate destination.

I had a feeling I’d be safe there. I had a feeling, wrapped in Trent Montgomery’s capable arms, my demons wouldn’t feel quite so close. I’d find my balance.

There was so much I needed to figure out, but that was okay. It was all okay. Because Trent was sunshine, laughter, and broad shoulders. And he might be strong enough to carry us both.

“It felt like…falling knowing there was somewhere soft to land.”

My job as his father was to love him, prickly or not. It was to support him. To listen. To be patient, when he needed patience. To protect him and nurture him. To give him somewhere safe to go when he was scared.

His eyes said, stay. His eyes said, listen. His eyes said, I have your back. They said, you’re not alone anymore.

But…Jesus had said love thy neighbor, hadn’t he? I was pretty sure he’d never said, “Love thy neighbor apart from his ass.”

Pretty as sin. Eye candy with a smile that could end the world.

“If you can’t beat ’em. Feed ’em.”

This man made me laugh. This man said it was okay not to speak. He comforted my son when he needed it. His eyes were full of promises and optimism. His hands were capable and kind.

His eyes said, what are you hiding? They said, don’t you know that doesn’t work with me? I pay too close attention to you. They said, I’ll get it out of you sooner or later. They said, just you wait and see. And then he winked.

They said, I’m sorry I mistreated you. They said, I’m not perfect. They said, I’m trying. They said, it hurts.

“He doesn’t like being caught, but he loves being held.”

He unfurled his petals, his heart tipped toward mine, his eyes full of stars.

“Messing up? Yeah. It’s just a way to learn how to be better. Mistakes are just lessons.”