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

by Fae Quin

For anyone who needs a little extra holiday magic.

You think you’ve seen everything by the time you hit thirty-seven. But then a familiar tiny blond eleven-year-old shows up at your house just after dark, wielding a baseball bat in one hand and an inhaler in the other. And he threatens you with it—the bat, not the inhaler—until you agree to take his dad on a date, and you realize you were wrong. You definitely haven’t seen everything. Nope. Not even close.

“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.’ And he was the president, so…” He shrugged as if that explained everything.

I knew I was wearing rose-colored glasses, but damn. I couldn’t believe how much time I’d wasted not noticing him.

I had the ungodly urge to climb onto his lap—despite my size—and hide my face inside his neck. 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.

These two lost boys had me wrapped around their little fingers and they didn’t even know it.

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.

Rooster was solid and warm. Cinnamon sugar. He smelled like cinnamon sugar. I held on tight. And the way he melted against me had my heart racing and my toes curling in my boots. I’d never been so viscerally affected by someone else’s touch. Never felt sick with need, desperate and grateful—like the innocent brush of his lashes against my skin or his soft as sin lips against my throat was enough to make me burst into flames. No sparks. My. Ass. Goddamn fireworks were going off inside me.

I’d waited for this moment. Ached for it. Ached to hear that voice—sweet as honey, low and melodic. Ached for the words to be mine, and mine alone. Ached to soak up his lilting accent, to memorize every dip and cadence.

At first, my own actions had confused me, but at this point, there was no denying the honest truth. I liked spoiling him. I loved it. I loved the faces he made. I loved the way he grinned, all toothy and honest, with these charming crinkles at the corners of his eyes, and his cheeks rosy pink. I loved how shocked he was—every single time I pulled a chair out for him, opened his door for him, or bought him something unexpected. Sometimes shocked enough he’d whack his knees on a table, or a chair—or even trip and run into a wall.

I loved his laugh. It was almost as precious as he was.

“It’s okay, Pops,” Bubba reassured him. “I can be big for you sometimes, if you need it. I don’t mind.”

Miles…melted. Collapsing into my embrace like he trusted me to hold him up. He let me hold him. He let me own him, the way I’d been dreaming about. He was everything I’d never known I wanted.

Lost in Trent’s eyes, the world was a beautiful place. I wasn’t scared when he was around.

“I’m terrified because you’re everything. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted. And for the first time in my life, every action I take is wrong, wrong, wrong. I don’t have sweet words. My silver tongue gets tangled. You make my hands sweaty, and my heart race. I feel like I’m in goddamn grade school when you’re around.”

“I look at you and I feel fluttery all over, like I’m five on a playground and all I wanna do is pull your goddamn pigtails. You make me nervous—I’ve never been nervous before—and I don’t know how the hell to get you to like me, especially since I made such a mess of things before.”

The longer I talked, the more relaxed Miles became. He unfurled his petals, his heart tipped toward mine, his eyes full of stars. I’d never had someone look at me the way he did. Like I was something worth worshiping.

“You’re perfect,” he promised, kissing the shell of my ear three separate times. Kiss, kiss, kiss. “God, you’re perfect,” he repeated, in case I hadn’t heard the first time.

Trent Montgomery was a happy ending if I ever saw one. He had a pretty-pretty smile like a fairytale prince, and he wanted to save me.

No one had ever waited for me before. I hadn’t thought I was worth it—the wait, I mean. But apparently Trent thought so.

And there was Miles. Beaming at me, looking gorgeous with the sun behind him, lighting up all that creamy mole-speckled skin. His eyes were almost gold, his lashes glowing as he stared at me. Stared at me like I was worth staring at. Like I was a miracle or something. Like he couldn’t look away.

“You’re so beautiful all over, sweetheart,” Trent promised, his eyes full of wonder. “I always thought so.”

When I tucked him in, Bubba woke up. He stared at me real hard, all pretty green eyes full of stars, and he said, “I wish you were my dad.” My heart about broke. “You got a dad, sweet pea.” “No,” Bubba shook his head, snuggling his stuffed chicken into his arms as he stared at me all serious, way too serious for a kid his age. “I got a pops,” he waited a moment so I would get what he was saying. My heart about stuttered out of my chest. “I wish I had a dad too.” And then he went right to sleep, like he hadn’t just knocked my world off its axis.

Miles flashed me a grateful smile before continuing. “For years I couldn’t even talk to you. Couldn’t have a real conversation with the one guy in the whole goddamn town I liked—because just looking at your face made me weak.”

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

“Let me carry the weight for you. Let me be in charge. Let me hold you. Let me fuck you. Talk to me when you need to—pick me. Let me in. Let me fight your battles. Let me stand beside you. Let me share your secrets. Let me keep you safe.” I swallowed. “Please—” My voice cracked. “I’ve never felt the way I do for you, and it’s scary and wonderful—but god. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“I’m glad Gram told me about Dad’s big ol’ gross crush on you. And I’m glad I came to your house and made you take him on a date.” “A crush you say?” I could practically taste Trent’s laughter. Smug bastard. “I think he loves you,” Bubba said, and my heart stopped. “I’d tell you not to hurt him, but I don’t think you ever would.” I squeezed my eyes shut tight. Tears burned hot down my cheeks, mixing with the soapy water. “I think Pops loves you, but I think you love him more. And maybe now you’re around I don’t have to protect him anymore. You can do it for me.”

“You really think anyone believes that? That boy looks at you like you shit rainbows.” “Gram!” “Not my fault he’s got puppy dog eyes every time you enter a room. He doesn’t know the definition of subtle. He never stops touching you. He told you your ass was yummy in front of his mother. You two ain’t foolin’ anyone.”

“C’mon, Pops. Let’s go save Dad.” And then he grabbed my hand and pulled me to my feet, and we went to find Gram to do just that. When we ran out to the truck, Bubba was wielding his baseball bat, his inhaler, and Gram’s expression was grim.

Miles was the reason I woke up with a smile in the morning. He saw me the way I always wanted to be seen. He made me laugh. He made my heart hurt.

I only ever felt at peace when I had my hands on Miles and his heartbeat thudding against my own. He was comfort. He was companionship. He was tranquil lake water and tumbled river stones. He was innocence. First love the way it’s meant to be.

“Sometimes when we love people we do stupid things,” Mama said.

I ducked my head and thought of green eyes. Both sets. My partner, and my baby.

“I’m kinda…” “Kinda?” “In love with him?” My words were muffled. “And by kinda, I mean—totally, completely, utterly in love with him. Stupid in love. Ridiculously in love. Like—I would literally kiss the ground he walked on, kind of in love. The kind in movies, and books—and audiobooks. The stupid kind. That makes no sense—but makes all the sense at the same time—”

I could love him, just as he was, cracks and all. And our world would be beautiful. Broken or not.

Love was vulnerability. It was trusting someone to love you after showing them the parts of yourself you’d never been able to embrace.

“I’ve been silent…for so long.” Everything hurt. “B-but I don’t want to be silent anymore. Not when I love you this much. Not when you might not know. I love you the way I never knew I could love someone. With my whole heart, my toes, my nose, and my lashes. Every little, inconsequential part of me loves every little inconsequential part of you. The way you—the way you—I love the way you always spill syrup in your beard—”

“I love how strong you are. How capable. How trustworthy. I’ve never been able to rely on someone the way I do with you. You make me feel safe. You make me—” I stuttered out a sob. “You make me feel whole. Like I’m not broken at all.”

“You’re it for me.”

“You know I love you, right?” Trent asked as he stared into my eyes. Gold. Gold. Gold. His dark lashes fluttered as my heart stuttered in my chest. “So much,” he tacked on unnecessarily.

I could see his love in everything he did. In the way he looked at me, the way he touched me, the way he took care of my family with gentle, strong hands.

And when Miles turned his head toward me, like I was sunlight and he was trying to soak me up, when those gorgeous eyes fluttered open and his lips twisted up into the single sweetest, most satisfied smile I’d ever seen—I knew.

“Husbands?” I asked. “Husbands,” he agreed, his voice wobbly and soft. I kissed him again. Because I could. And when I slipped the ring onto his finger, it was a perfect fit.

“Because you’re mine,” I growled, and Miles nodded, his head jerking in agreement. “And you will always be mine. Till the day I die, I’ll choose you.”

Love was patience. Love was imperfection. Love felt like…falling knowing there was somewhere soft to land.