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

by Fae Quin

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.

“I’m on a date with Rooster, yeah,” Trent agreed. “A real date?” Her eyes narrowed, glaring him down as he shrugged. “Not the kind where you fuck him and forget him two seconds later.” “Jesus Christ, Mama. What else would it be?” Trent’s lips thinned. “It’s about time.” She sighed. “Been wondering when you’d finally get your head out of your ass.” Did she often talk to him like that? That’d make any man nuttier than a squirrel turd. Poor Trent.

“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.

“So are you gonna fix it then?” “Fix what?” I played dumb. “How you messed up with my dad?” My cheeks were hot as I hid behind my mug, mulling this over. Did I want to see Rooster again? Yes. Did I regret the way last night had gone? Absolutely. Was I ready for a relationship, and one that involved a small nosy kid? No, not really. But… For a horrible moment I contemplated what would happen if I didn’t fix it. If I let Rooster go. If I let this kid walk out the door and never talked to him again. Suddenly the thought of never interacting with either of them outside of nodding as we passed each other in the street made me sick to my stomach. “Yeah. I’m gonna fix it,”

With three of us cutting out pumpkins, ghosts, cauldrons, and zombie hands, we made quick work of his load. Wasn’t the only load I wanted to make quick work of. Ha.

every night Rooster’s eyes grew just a little warmer—if not confused—as he’d shyly send me home with a warm Tupperware full of dinner. I’d sit alone at my dining room table with Barb’s head on my knee and I’d think…damn. Maybe one day, if I proved myself hard enough, I’d get invited to sit at their table with them. Maybe they’d realize they need me. No one had ever needed me before. A man could dream.

Maybe if I tried hard enough, I’d be able to convince myself that I was okay with this. That dying alone, without ever trying what I craved intimately, and sexually, wasn’t the end of the world. Because the truth was, I had no interest in anyone other than Trent. I’d come to that conclusion the moment I’d seen him latch on to Bubba’s hand, dressed as Batman, and walk him up those porch steps. He was it for me.

“Did you just spill milk all over my kid’s fucking backpack?” Trent’s voice was low, dangerous. Calm as a river just waiting to drown you. “No, sir—“ “Because I’m pretty damn sure I just saw you do just that.” Trent sounded like a completely different person.

I let him hold me, and I wasn’t quite so scared anymore. 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.

I was a player, a slut, a flirt—all those things. I’d been proud of that too, until recently. Now there was only one bed I wanted to fall into. One body I wanted to sink inside. One mouth I wanted to kiss. One set of arms I wanted to call my home.

Trent kept glancing over at me, a knowing glint in his gaze, like he was grateful I was here. Like he was glad that I was hearing this. His eyes said, stay. His eyes said, listen. His eyes said, I have your back. They said, you’re not alone anymore.

“You ready to scheme with me?” “I dunno,” Bubba replied dubiously. “My last plan hasn’t worked yet.” Trent sighed wistfully, glancing right at me when he said it. “Your plan hasn’t failed. I just haven’t earned him yet.”

If I’d been a better man, and a better friend, I wouldn’t have checked out his ass as it jiggled when he walked. 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.”

This man who hurried to hop out of the truck and bolt around the front to open my door for me. This man was not the same man who had taken me on a date and unknowingly crushed my heart. This man had orchestrated an entire production to help my son with his struggles at school. This man wore matching Halloween costumes. 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.

I pushed his hair back. I watched his lashes flutter, and I thought, maybe if I was lucky enough, Trent would be the first person to stay with me. I could make a home here with him. I wouldn’t miss sex if I could have moments like this with him. Maybe it would break my heart to see him with someone else, when that inevitably happened, but I’d survive. He was worth every heartbreak. This was worth every heartbreak.

He took an unsteady step away from me, and I followed, my arm still wrapped around his back despite the fact he was attempting to run from me. I knew he didn’t actually want distance, I could see the desperation in his eyes, calling to me. They said, help me. They said, help me understand. They said, I’m scared.

When the frantic kiss evolved, turning soft and languid—I pulled back barely a hair’s width from those tempting-as-fuck lips to boss him around. With love. Because we were friends, and more. And he needed to listen to me—just this once. “You’re going to go to my goddamn house. You’re going to drink your goddamn hot chocolate. You’re going to let me take care of you. And when I deem it goddamn time, I will tell you what you want to know.” Miles glared at me, his eyes full of fire, his lips swollen. So fucking yummy, goddamn.

“Can I please be done?” Bubba asked, politely, but rudely at the same time. “Robin,” I warned him quietly, but my laugh broke free and betrayed my amusement. I hardly ever first-named him. He hardly ever needed it. “Done with what, dear?” Beatrice looked genuinely confused. Her dark hair was tucked back neatly like it usually was. An apron—that she’d clearly brought from home—wrapped around her curvy figure. “Disney,” Bubba whined unhappily like he was being tortured. “Can I pretty please play with Barb now?”

“I don’t care how many of my diapers you changed, Mama—if you’re picking on Miles I’ll kick you out, I swear to god.” Trent’s voice rumbled from the doorway, and I startled a little, nearly spilling my drink as I jerked to look at him. I didn’t know if I’d ever get used to him saying my name. My actual name. It made me feel all tingly and giddy, and embarrassed all the same. Like he was saying a naughty word.

Trent groaned. He tipped his head back, his throat bobbing. “I had no idea I had this much self-control,” he muttered to himself before releasing my lip, and pulling far enough away I couldn’t feel his heat anymore. My lip still tingled from his touch. And I mourned the loss of his fingers in my hair. His hand still held mine though, which felt like victory. When Trent caught my gaze again he snorted, a soft little laugh. “Jee-sus, you’d think I stole your goddamn cookie.” God, his smile was pretty. “You keep looking at me like that and I’m gonna stick my tongue so far up your ass you’ll start squealing.”

“Messing up our date… Not paying attention to how uncomfortable you were… Not trying to ease that pain—” His breath caught and he shook his head a second time, more violently. “Not trying harder. Not trying to understand—” I flipped my hand over and squeezed his right back. He exhaled like a popped balloon, deflating as our fingers tangled and the unspoken distance that had existed between us—invisible but unsurpassable—since that first night began to close inch by inch. “That was the stupidest, sorriest thing I’ve ever done in my whole fucking life.”

“I was so mad at everyone—my mama, my brothers, the nosy as fuck people down at the grocery store—for making me feel bad about my lifestyle. My anger blinded me. I didn’t realize till I heard you defending me to my own goddamn mother that they were right. I wasn’t happy the way I claimed I was. Something has been missing for a while now.”

His eyes willed me to understand. They said, I’m sorry I mistreated you. They said, I’m not perfect. They said, I’m trying. They said, it hurts.

“The truth is, I’m terrified all the time, but of you especially,” Trent admitted, his eyes searching mine. “Of…me?” The idea was so ridiculous I wanted to laugh. “Yes.” Trent’s voice wobbled. “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.” Trent’s lips twisted as our hands trembled together. My head spun. I didn’t know what to think. Everything he was saying was such a perfect mirror to the feelings I’d been having too, that it almost felt like a lie.

“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.”

“I’m not man enough for you, sweetheart. I’m just not. I can’t be a daddy. I can’t be a boyfriend.” “Why not?” The words escaped before I could pull them back in, safe where they’d stay tucked like a secret against my beating heart. “I’ll only disappoint you.” How could the cockiest, sexiest, most amazing man I’d ever met be so damn insecure? It didn’t make sense. Or maybe…maybe it did.

“Hurt him, and I’ll kick your ass,” was all she said, before she patted my chest and disappeared behind the door with a quiet click. “If I hurt him, I’ll kick my own ass,” I’d promised myself under my breath as I turned back to the truck and tried not to panic.

I didn’t want to hurt him. But I knew I probably would.

He laughed particularly hard when I spoke about the time I’d tried to ride on one of my cousin’s cows because my brother had told me it was just like riding a horse. News flash, it wasn’t. I’d ended up walking home covered in shit—literally—with a bruised ass and an even more bruised ego. Dad had laughed his ass off. He’d called me “shithead” for months.

Jealous. Over me! Heat coursed through my veins, my dick twitching to life in my slacks as those molten golden eyes traced across my smile hungrily. His nostrils flared again, and I had to suppress a groan. “I suppose I am,” Trent agreed, not even trying to deny it. “But you’re mine, Miles Johnson, and I’m finding…” “What?” I asked, breathless. “I don’t at all like the idea of sharing you.”

“If you’ve wanted it this long—how the hell have you never been fucked?” Trent asked in disbelief. Then his eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Does this mean you’ve only ever topped?” I’d never been more embarrassed in all my life as I nodded, swallowing my own tongue. “Why?” Trent stared at me, clearly flummoxed. “I would literally sell my left kidney to get my dick inside your bouncy ass. How is that even possible?”

“You are the cutest idiot I’ve ever met,” Trent tapped his toe against mine under the table and caught my gaze. “And I am going to fuck you.” A slow, wicked smirk twisted across his lips. “I’m going to fuck you till you’re cross-eyed, big guy. I’m going to make you cry for it. Beg. I’m going to train your ass to twitch every time you catch sight of me. I am going to enjoy every goddamn, gorgeous inch of your body.”

“I just—” Jeremy squirmed, the other boys laughed some more. “I just—get all. Weird. When you’re there. I just. I just—” He covered his face with his hands. “I can’t help but trip and stuff—Mama says my feet are too big or something. I dunno. I really am sorry,” Jeremy repeated, steadily growing pinker. “I didn’t mean to—” he swallowed. “I’m sorry.” And suddenly I understood. Jeremy Collins had a crush. On Bubba. Oh lord.

Never had someone to compete with before, so I just watched.” I shrugged. “Besides, this is the first year Ben’s been back. Paxton and I thought we should baptize him by fire. Nothing says, ‘welcome home’ like kicking your brother’s ass.” Bubba glanced up at me, a wicked little smirk on his adorably evil face. “This year it’s just the three of us. My other brothers begged off.”

“You’re tight.” “Can’t be that tight,” I responded without thinking. “Since I fingered myself this morning before we—oh. Oh.” Trent shoved his thumb the rest of the way in, growling softly, the noise vibrating my dick. Shit. Shit fuck. “You fucked my hole without permission?”

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.

“I wish I knew what I was doing,” I admitted, feeling wobbly and confused. Miles’s heart thudded steadily beneath my ear. Thump, thump. He made an inquisitive noise. “You’re all put together. You don’t get ruffled. You’re a dad through and through. Probably never once wondered if you’d fuck Bubba up, ’cause you knew deep down you never could.” I wasn’t sure what I expected, but him laughing at me was definitely not it. “Wha—” “You’re an idiot, Trent Montgomery,” Miles fucking “full-named” me with a snort. “If you think I don’t spend every goddamn day worrying I’m messing Bubba up.”

“I hated myself for years. The kind of hate that eats you from the inside out. That turns your soul black.”

“When I get something good in my life, I always question it.” My breath stuttered out in response to those raw, broken words. “I don’t know how to be happy—for years…” More tears escaped. I swiped them away and 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 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.”

Trent’s eyes were liquid honey. “Give him to me,” he demanded, arms outstretched. “I’ve got him.” Gram let me go and without a second thought, I stumbled into his embrace. Pine trees, cocoa, expensive cologne. Well-worn flannel. Solid muscle. Warmth.

What if? What if he stayed the way no one else had before? Not even Robin. What if we never moved back across the street? What if he felt what I did? What if we were enough? What if I was enough? What if, what if, what if—

“How long does your heart need?” She stroked my arm soothingly, her hands so much smaller than my own. “How long are you gonna tell yourself you’re not worthy of the kinda love you want? How long until you’re ready to admit that you’re the one that’s been running, all this time. Not everyone else. How long till you choose to stay, Miles Johnson?” Gram’s words hit me like a sledgehammer. They sat like a noose around my heart as I finished prepping for the party, and I let her advice begin to settle inside the cracks inside my mind.

“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.

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. He was happy days, butterflies, and the promise of a future all wrapped in a big cow print covered body. I couldn’t lose him.

Being a dad wasn’t about the title. It wasn’t about perfection. Being a dad meant showing up when you were needed. It was as simple as that.

“The Miles you brought home for dinner? The one you carried around the entire Pie Festival? The one you canoodled with right at the table during Thanksgiving when you thought no one was looking? The one you can’t keep your hands off? The one you disappeared into the bathroom with for nearly half an hour, and returned to the table with a neck covered in hickeys?”

“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—”