All He Needs: A MMM Romance (My Truth Book 1) Read online
Page 7
“No, it’s not impossible, but now I’m everything that I’ve always denied pansexuality is. I’m a fucking hypocrite.”
“No, you’re the same man you’ve always been, and I really like him. I’m confused too, Ricky. I’ve found myself wanting not one but two men. Talk about intimidating for your first time.” I laughed nervously and leaned in closer. Our words were barely more than a whisper, just loud enough that even though we weren’t alone in the house, only we could hear our conversation. “I can’t walk away from either of you. I don’t care if we fit some mold, and I couldn’t give a shit what anyone else thinks about me. But I understand that you do, and that’s fine. I’m not making light of your concerns. All I’m asking is that you give us a chance to figure out what could be between us.” I kissed his cheek gently and stepped away from him, backing toward the stairs. “I’m gonna take a quick shower. Gimme a few minutes, and then you can tell me what I can do to help.”
Ricky smiled at me, his gaze full of something that looked a lot like affection. “Let’s bring our man home, Mason.”
I grinned and pushed his body against the wall, cupping his cheeks. I pressed my lips against his in a hard kiss before spinning on my heels and jogging upstairs. Butterflies fluttered around my belly, even as the guilt over being happy when Caden was devastated hit me.
We were going to help him—we had to. Even if it meant getting on a plane and going to him, I’d do it. Whatever it took.
Chapter Five
Caden
“So yeah, I think from what you’ve told me, Gracie has reflux,” Ford explained. My gut clenched as I thought of all the horrible things that could mean for the beautiful baby girl finally asleep on my chest. “It’s important to treat it because she’s in pain. The heartburn can get pretty bad, especially if she’s not reacting well to the formula. That’s why she can’t sleep properly and why she’s wanting to suckle all the time. She’s not hungry, but the motion helps her settle.”
“Okay, so what do I do?” I asked, overwhelmed with worry and helplessness. All I wanted was to take away her pain, to have her gaze at me again without her little face scrunching up and her crying out in agony.
“I’ve ordered some things for you on an urgent delivery, though it might be tomorrow before it arrives.”
“You didn’t need to do that, Ford. I could’ve gone out to get it,” I protested, though it was probably just my pride making me do it. Having things delivered to the house was a whole lot easier than getting Gracie in the car and over to the pharmacy, especially because I had to lug around a truckload of clothes, diapers, and wipes with me in case she spewed everywhere.
“I know I didn’t, but I wanted to. It’s nothing for me to order some things online, but it’ll make a big difference to you having the right stuff on hand.” He paused momentarily while I heard clicking in the background. “Right, the first thing I got you is some over-the-counter medicine. It’s the infant version of an antacid. You should take her to the doctor to get it confirmed, but if the medicine helps, that’s a good sign it’s reflux.” Ford went on to explain that he’d also ordered special formula to reduce her heartburn and drops to ease her wind, then told me how to use each one of them.
I thanked him, and he continued in a softer voice, “It’ll get better, Caden. Easier.” I hope so. “It will, I promise.” Did I say that out loud? “Okay, now I’m passing you to Mace.”
“Caden, hey—”
“Mace, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have held a grudge. I shouldn’t have been such a prick to you. I know you were only doing what you had to. I was an idiot, and I’m sorry. Life is too damn short….”
I heard his breath hitch as I squeezed my eyes closed, fighting my emotions, but I shouldn’t have bothered. His words, softly spoken but filled with a core of strength, had relief pouring through me as a sob escaped. “We’re coming to you, Caden. We’re gonna do this together, okay? We booked a flight for tomorrow. It was the earliest we could get.”
“I… I… wait, we?”
“Me and Ricky. We’ll be there in a couple of days. I’ll text you the flight details, but there’s no need to come pick us up. We’ll get a ride to your house.” I blew out a breath and scrubbed my hand over my wet eyes. “Is that okay, Caden?”
“Yeah,” I rasped, my voice rough with unshed tears. “Yeah, it is. I’m overwhelmed, Mace. I never thought I’d have friends like you guys, willing to drop everything and help.”
Rick came on then and reassured me that we were all in it together, that I wasn’t alone anymore. All I could do was hold Gracie and cry. Relief and love flowed over me in waves, cleansing the exhaustion and grief from my soul. Their two voices drifted through, calming me and whispering support. I stayed talking to them until Gracie started wiggling and let out her bleating cry that meant she was wet and uncomfortable.
It was time for her bath anyway so, carrying her in a way that she could snuggle into me again, I went into the laundry room and started filling the tub. Life was hard without Annalise, and in this house, all of her things were a constant reminder of what I’d lost, but the gift of life she’d given to Gracie brought me more joy than I ever imagined possible. I smiled down at my baby girl as I stripped her and cradled her tiny form against me until the bath was ready. She instantly relaxed when I put her into the water, letting out a contented sigh when I started rubbing her head with one hand, supporting her neck with the other.
I had no idea if I was doing things right, and I’d screwed up more than once, but Gracie was my second chance in life just as much as I was her everything. She gave my life new meaning. I had a bigger purpose thanks to her. It didn’t matter what I’d done in my past, only how I loved her now and would continue to every day for the rest of my life. I hoped that one day she’d understand that everything I did for her was because of love in its purest form.
Bundling her in a dry diaper and fresh clothes after her bath, I held Gracie while I warmed the water a little before mixing in the formula one-handed. “Here you go, baby girl. Just how you like it.” She wolfed it down and I patted her back with a smile on my face. I kept going, long after I would’ve normally stopped, and she let out a long burp. “Well done, Gracie.”
Ford was right—part of the problem had been wind. I wouldn’t make that mistake again.
I strapped her in her swing and hung a toy within her reach so she could play for a while. Gracie loved her green dog already, so she barely noticed when I dashed out of the room to fix her cot. Ford suggested that I put a couple of books under one end to prop up her head so gravity could do its work.
When she’d played for long enough, I swaddled her in a wrap and laid her down, leaving only the soft glow from the small lamp in the room with her.
I was starving. I’d hardly eaten all day, only managing two cups of coffee and a banana. I needed something better to eat, so I grilled the last steak I had in the house and ate two-day-old salad with it. I barely tasted either as I shoveled it down—probably a good thing, given how wilted the leaves were. I realized how pathetic my coping skills were when I opened the fridge for a water and saw food from the wake, almost two weeks earlier. Grabbing a trash bag, I cleaned it out, tossing everything that wasn’t fresh and leaving it pretty much bare. On my way back in through the laundry room, I started a load of washing and took the clean clothes with me to the sofa.
Weariness settled in as I started folding Gracie’s clothes, yawns coming more and more frequently. My eyelids were growing heavier as I struggled to stay awake. If I could get this stuff done before Gracie needed another feed in a couple hours, the house wouldn’t look quite so bad.
My eyes snapped open when I heard Gracie’s cry. Damn it. She hasn’t slept long. I looked down and saw folded laundry all around me. So much for resting my eyes; I’d fallen asleep, for at least a little while. I raced into her bedroom and stopped when I saw the clock on the wall. She’d slept for an hour longer than she normally would.
“Hey, baby girl,�
�� I cooed when I picked her up. Her diaper and pajamas were soaked through, so I changed them and mixed another bottle of formula for her. “Here you go. Let’s get your tummy filled up,” I murmured soothingly. Sitting among the folded laundry on the sofa, I fed and burped her, repeating the same moves I had earlier.
This time wasn’t so successful, spew quickly covering my shoulder and running down my back. A few weeks ago, I would’ve been a gagging mess, but now I was more worried about the gasping cries coming from Gracie. I ripped off my shirt, wiped myself off as best as I could and changed Gracie again. Rocking her until she’d settled, I tried laying her down, but it was no use. She screamed as soon as she left my arms.
“It’s okay. It’s okay. Please stop crying,” I begged, lifting her once more and patting her back again. She eventually settled, falling into a restless sleep against my chest.
I took the chance and buckled her into her swing before running into the bathroom just as she started to cry. I didn’t have time for a shower—she’d scream bloody murder if I took longer than thirty seconds to get back to her—so a washcloth would have to do. I couldn’t imagine how bad I smelled—sweaty ass crack and spew were my only cologne at the moment—but it didn’t matter when I thought about Gracie. We had a rough night ahead of us.
At least I’d had a chance to eat some dinner.
The knock on the front door had me almost falling to my knees in supplication when I saw the delivery man. It was the medicine Ford had ordered. We’d both had a hard night, Gracie because of the severe heartburn that went with reflux and me from pure exhaustion. I just wanted her to stop crying. My arms ached and my head was pounding. I was hot and sweaty, tired and miserable. I needed a break—five minutes of quiet sounded like heaven, but she just wouldn’t stop.
I was in so far over my head. How the hell was I going to do this for years? I couldn’t even handle weeks at it.
I scrubbed my face, trying to wake myself up, and answered the door, signing for the package before carrying it and Gracie inside.
My salvation, I hoped, came in the form of an applicator and bottle. I needed to see the doctor on base to get a diagnosis, but Ford told me this might help in the meantime. God, I hoped so. I measured it one-handed and gave Gracie a taste. She instantly scrunched her little nose up and let out a wail, clearly hating it. I groaned and forced the rest down, hoping she drank some of it even though most ended up on her shirt.
The high-pitched cry didn’t stop, and my head was about to explode with the pounding my ears were receiving. I needed a minute and a lot more caffeine. I gave Gracie some tummy time, something she usually enjoyed, and trudged into the kitchen to make myself some coffee.
Mug in hand, I stood at the kitchen sink and looked out to the faded hammock in the yard. I was jealous of the peacefulness it taunted me with, a gentle breeze rustling in the trees and plenty of shade to sleep in.
Holy crap, maybe that’s it. The hammock.
I downed the rest of the scalding liquid, pulled out Gracie’s stroller and popped her in it, racing outside with her. There were a hell of a lot of little seeds on the hammock, about the size of a blueberry but hard, and bird shit everywhere. The tree must have been fruiting. I looked around nervously, but the birds stayed high up in the tree. Even though they were there, and I wasn’t a fan of being close to rats with wings, excitement bloomed in me at the possibility of having some time outside.
With Gracie fed, changed and baby insect repellant slathered all over her, a shade cover zipped in place over her stroller that doubled as a mosquito net, and a blessed miracle, she’d fallen asleep.
Peace. Quiet. Sleep. Finally.
I climbed onto the hammock and stretched out, casting an eye over the stroller that was only a couple of feet away from me and eying the birds warily. They were nowhere near us. Relieved, I closed my eyes and let the rocking soothe me.
Water lapped at my feet, the crystal-clear liquid cool against my skin. Sand between my toes and the warm sun on my face was heaven. I was relaxed, the tension and grief I’d been carrying around having momentarily drifted away. Finally, hope lit my path. I was lighter. Happier. I could breathe easier.
Looking around, I saw palm trees and sand castles. People strolling along the beach and kids laughing had me smiling, but it wasn’t quite right. I couldn’t pinpoint it, but there was something missing. Or not so much missing as something out of place. The shoreline was familiar—it was near my sister’s house—so that wasn’t it.
What is it?
I watched a little girl, maybe six or seven years old, splashing in the water, her long dark hair bouncing as she jumped and ran. She was adorable and my heart lit with joy. When she turned to me, her familiar green eyes calmed me. My sister lived on in Gracie. My Gracie.
Her wide smile faltered and she ran over to me. “Daddy, what’s wrong? Why are you sad? Is it because you found another gray hair?”
“What?” I asked, startled. Gray hair? What the fuck? I’m not going gray. Or maybe I am. Hell, who knows. “No, baby girl. I was just thinking of your mom. She looked just like you when she was little. It made me a little sad, but happy too.”
“Look, Daddy, a crab.” Grace pointed to the sand right next to my foot. A crab the size of my fist scuttled around. I held still, not wanting to startle it, but I jumped and screeched in fright as it closed its pincer around my toe. Holy fucking shit, it’s going to cut it off. I kicked out, trying to dislodge it, but it was still there, poking at me.
Loud squawking filled my ears, and I sucked in a breath.
I jarred awake and opened my eyes trying to shake off the crazy dream, but what was in front of me was a nightmare. It was like a scene straight out of Alfred Hitchcock’s The Birds. Crows everywhere, thousands of the bastards—okay, there might have only been three—were on the hammock and Gracie’s stroller, eating the seeds that had dropped from the tree. I let out a shout, which was super manly and totally not a startled squeak, and kicked my foot out harder, dislodging the evil thing from me. It stared at me with its beady black eyes and I scrambled around on the hammock trying to get away from that judgmental bastard.
The swaying of the hammock was a little crazy as I pulled my feet under me and attempted to jump from it. Holding on for dear life, I tried to throw my leg over to get some purchase on the ground, but all it served to do was pitch me forward toward the hard-packed, grassy earth. Clutching at the hammock, I tried to stop my fall, but it was no use. The ground rushed up at me and I scrunched my eyes closed, trying to catch myself with my other hand. It didn’t work. Reaching out for the ground just made the hammock tilt farther, and I wobbled wildly before face-planting.
Hard.
It was my least graceful landing. Ever.
I managed to shield my face from the worst of the impact, but I was now stuck. My legs were tangled in the hammock above me, and I still held onto the faded material with a death grip. Legs up in the air, face against the ground, arm splayed out sideways, I was relieved that I was the only one home who was capable of taking photographic proof of my complete and utter inability to stay upright.
I tried to pull my legs free, but I was trapping myself with the way I held the hammock, so I let go, landing in a heap on the ground, and groaned. Shit. Picking my sorry ass up, I dusted myself off and gritted my teeth. Fucking birds.
Eying the giant steaming trail of shit down Gracie’s stroller, I called out to the beady-eyed fuckers, “Really, you bastards?” At least it wasn’t on her. “Couldn’t just leave me to have a damn nap and not go all creepy psycho-killer on me?”
Muttering under my breath the whole way back to the house, I pushed Gracie’s stroller and finally lifted it, with her tucked safely inside, into the house.
I couldn’t believe my luck when I unzipped the mosquito net and saw Gracie still fast asleep. The shower called my name, so I wheeled her into the corridor just outside the small bathroom, stripped, and turned the water to hot. Stepping under the spray once it’d w
armed up, I scrubbed my skin clean and washed my hair, thinking about the dream I’d had. Why was something missing? I had everything I needed with Gracie right here. She was my world. She had to be.
Pushing the thoughts aside, I tried to think of what I’d need to do to get ready for Mason and Rick’s visit. I had to get groceries, clean the house, change the sheets. Where are they going to sleep? Three bedrooms. Mine, Dad’s and Anna’s. Gracie’s cot was in Anna’s room, the bed still unmade in exactly the same way Anna had left it. I could sleep in there, but at the same time, I didn’t know if I’d actually be able to lie down. It was Anna’s room; I wasn’t really ready to start clearing her stuff out. The burial had made it official—hell, seeing her on that gurney had—but the reality of her never coming home still hadn’t set in. I didn’t know if I was strong enough to pack her things away. I’d sleep on the sofa—that’d have to do. Mace was too tall and Rick too broad-shouldered to sleep comfortably there.
I dried myself off and dressed in shorts and a tee, going into the living room to finish the never-ending task of folding laundry. I managed to get through the basket before I heard the telltale signs of Gracie waking up. She was cooing though, not crying, which brought an instant smile to my face. I ditched writing the grocery list and hurried over to her. Lifting her out of the stroller, I grinned at my baby girl and kissed her on the cheek. The happy little gurgle she let out lit me up from the inside, making my heart overflow. She was so damn precious.
“Hey, sleepy girl. You look like you’re feeling better. I think the medicine Ford got you worked, didn’t it? Let’s have some playtime. Then we’ll get you fed and changed, and we can go for a little road trip, hey? I’ve got you visiting the doc so we can get you checked out, make this sore tummy go away.” Gracie reached out and gripped my little finger. “Yeah, pinky swear. I promise, I’ll make it go away.”