Braver Than You Think

 

 

“COOPER? Hey, I’m here. Felicity’s with me, and she’s fine.”

Cooper heard Sammy’s voice and sank slowly down into the kitchen chair, his whole body shaking. “Fine?” he asked, his voice tinny in his own ears. God. She’d called him from school, hysterical, begging him to come get her. But he’d just taken a pain pill and couldn’t drive, and even if he could, what was he going to do? Officially he was nobody to Felicity—her last name was Abrams, he’d been her foster brother a thousand years ago, and other than that, nothing. He’d told her to hang tight, Sammy was on his way, and then he’d done what he should have done two days ago.

He trusted Sammy.

God, he should have trusted Sammy that night. Trusted that he wouldn’t just hare off and leave Cooper’s broken heart behind him. Trust that maybe letting the relationship unfold slowly would keep it from breaking, while borrowing trouble at warp speed would destroy it before it was born. Just maybe trust that Sammy was the kind young man Cooper had been seeing for the past week and a half, and he wouldn’t leave Cooper and Felicity high and dry.

And now Sammy was on the phone, telling him it was all going to be okay.

Sort of.

“Cooper, look—I got her out of the principal’s office, and we got a lame-ass apology for the stupid shoes, but something bigger has come up. They started looking into her records—”

Cooper sucked in a breath. “Oh God. Social services—have they called them yet?”

“No, but Channing did, and everybody is having a big ol’ meeting in the principal’s office while Channing signs a shit ton of paperwork to make her his foster kid. Tino too.”

“Wait, what?”

Sammy let out what sounded like a sigh but wasn’t. Cooper listened hard and realized that Sammy was having trouble catching his breath.

“Cooper, could you just… just trust us?” he begged, his voice thready. “They’re going to make her official, and then we can move her school to someplace everybody’s not a dickhead about her having sparkly shoes, and you won’t have to drive crosstown to pick everybody up. Can we just… can we just do that? You’ll still be the nanny, she’ll still be in your life, and my grandma Stacy won’t have to be heartbroken because she got taken away. Can we do that? Does it have to be a thing?”

Cooper wiped his eyes with the palm of his hand. “Yeah, Sammy. We can do that. It’s….” Amazing. Tremendous. A true burden off Cooper’s shoulders. “It’s fine.”

“Good,” Sammy breathed. And then breathed again.

“Sammy, are you okay?”

“Tired.” And that sound—that breath sound.

“Have you eaten?”

Three more breaths. “Oh hell. I was going to get something after I picked Felicity up, on the way to get Kee and Letty. They should be home in a minute, by the way. So be ready.”

“Sammy! Focus. Food. Now.”

“I’ve got some protein bars in the car,” he said, his voice wandering.

“Good—give the keys to Felicity and have her go get some for you. And….” Oh God. He’d already screwed things up by not trusting Sammy as it was. “Have Channing or Tino drive you home, okay?”

“’Kay.” Deep breath. “Cooper?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry I kissed you.”

Cooper closed his eyes. “I’m not. I’m sorry I blew up over nothing and hurt your feelings.”

“Mm… that’s nice. Can I keep the kisses, then? I liked getting your first ones.”

Cooper’s breath caught. “Is Felicity getting protein bars?”

“Wait. No. Here, Felicity?”

Cooper waited for a moment while Sammy gave her directions and then started talking again. “You here with me, Sammy?”

“Yeah.”

“Sammy, you may want to see a doctor about this. You’re not sounding… right.”

Sammy giggled. “Way ahead of you. Saw him today, got vitamin shots and new supplements. Have a treatment appointment on Friday. It’s all rainbows and lollipops, Coop. Sammy is on the case.”

Cooper let out a breath, something in him easing. “Well, good. I need you to take care of yourself, Sammy. I just… just need you to be okay.”

“Mm. I was not okay Sunday night. Not gonna lie.”

Cooper’s chest constricted, and for a moment he couldn’t breathe. Was this how Sammy felt when his blood wasn’t carrying enough oxygen? This was awful. This was the whole reason he hadn’t looked for anyone to kiss him.

Until now.

“I’m sorry,” he said again. “I….” So naked, wearing jeans and a T-shirt in Tino and Channing’s kitchen. “I could barely keep me and Felicity fed and clothed, Sammy. I don’t know how I’m going to… to find the faith in someone else, to, you know, wait for kisses.”

“Mm.” He sounded dozy, like he was falling asleep. Then, “Oh, thank you, sweetheart. Here, you’re still looking a little ragged. Come lean on me for a minute, okay?”

In the background Cooper heard Felicity. “Sammy, your hands are so cold!”

“Yeah, but you’re warm. Snuggle, ’kay?”

Cooper scrubbed his face with his hands. “Sammy?” he said, suddenly wanting a second chance.

“Yeah?” He sounded like he was chewing.

“Just… have patience with me, okay? You… you’re so patient with everybody else. Can you have some patience with me?”

“Yeah.” His breathing had evened out, and Cooper wondered if maybe he hadn’t been stressed before he’d ridden to Felicity’s rescue. Dammit, Sammy!

“Yeah, what?”

“I’ll have patience with you. Just… you know. Make eye contact at dinner, okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh—and that, uh thing? We were talking about?”

Cooper remembered that Felicity was right there. “The doctor’s appointment?”

“Yeah. Could we keep that maybe to ourselves for a little?”

Oh God. Keep a secret from Channing and Tino, the two men who were pretty much saving his little sister from a crappy life in a crappy home with people who didn’t care about her like Cooper did? “You’re not going to tell them?” he asked, hating himself for even thinking about it.

“I’m being a grown-up,” Sammy said with dignity. “I can’t exactly work construction and pay rent, but I’m doing my best.”

And for the first time, Cooper heard chafing in Sammy’s voice, a need to move beyond his role as protected child and into the role as an independent adult. But Sammy, you hold this family together—doesn’t that help?

“Okay,” Cooper heard himself saying. “I’ll keep your secret. But you have to let me know things, okay? What the doctor says, what your treatment is, when it’s going to be.”

“You hid a child,” Sammy reminded him. “For two years! And now I have to be open and honest about the one secret I’ve ever had in my life?”

Gah! Cooper sucked. Sammy was right, and it wasn’t fair, and there was no way Cooper had the right to ask for this, except, “You’re promising me everything, Sam Lowell. Everything. You’re promising me a home for the only family I’ve ever really had. You’re promising me food, a roof, a job, and… and kisses. And friends. People who care if I live or die. This is… this is collateral. Being straight with me here is collateral on that promise, you understand?”

And I really am worried about you, and I’m not used to that, and this will let me see for myself that you are not just going to… to… walk out the door and never come back.

“Okay, fine. You caught me at a weak moment.” And then he chuckled.

What. An. Asshole.

“I am not amused.”

“You should be. That was high comedy. If that doesn’t amuse you, what does?”

Cooper gaped at the phone like a fish. “Amuses me?”

“Yes, Cooper Hoskins—what do you like to do in your spare time?”

“He likes to watch old movies on television and recite the lines,” Felicity offered from close enough to the phone that she was probably lying on Sammy’s chest.

“That sounds life changing,” Sammy said, but there was amusement in his voice, nothing more. “We’ll build on that. Plays. I will take him to plays.”

While Cooper was trying to assimilate where this conversation had gone, the front door opened and excited voices rang in the entryway.

“Sammy, the kids are here with Brandon. I’ve got to go.”

“Mm. Okay. Someone will call when we leave for home. Don’t forget about me, okay?”

Never. “Okay. See you then.”

Cooper ended the call and stood, grateful for his healing body as he’d never been in his whole life. He could stand, and his ribs were getting close to healed. His collarbone would need a brace for a while, but the rest of his body—sound. He didn’t have to fight for breath or worry about his blood failing him as his spirit tried so hard to shine.

He swallowed past the tightness in his throat and turned to smile at Keenan and Letty as they burst through the door.

“Where’s Felicity?” Letty asked, running to hop up onto one of the stools around the island. “She should be here. Brandon and Taylor picked us up and they said she was fine but I made a picture today!” She waved it in the air in a shower of macaroni and glitter. “Felicity needs to tell me it looks like a girl made it because Keenan said a boy could make it too.”

Cooper looked at Keenan, who was holding his hands out in mute appeal.

“Well, a girl did make it, so of course that’s what it looks like, but if you’re talking about glitter, I’m pretty sure he’s right and that can be used by either girls or boys.”

Both children looked mollified—and then looked to him for what he’d come to understand was an after-school staple. “Peanut butter or chocolate chip?” he asked, reaching into the cookie jars on the counter.

“Both!” they said in tandem, and he pulled out their after-school cookies and poured them both some milk.

“Now you guys enjoy, and I’m going to go talk to Brandon and Taylor.” He brought a napkin full of cookies and one big glass of milk to the TV room, where he’d seen them go when the kids came in.

“Thanks, Coop,” Brandon said, setting the napkin on the coffee table with the milk in the middle. “We wanted to have a word with you in case nobody else called.”

“Sammy called. He said they’re petitioning for foster care. I guess Channing is trying to make some magic happen?” Because everything he’d heard or seen had told him that these things ran at the speed of bureaucracy.

“Well, Channing has resources,” Taylor said, his grimace stopping at the injured corner of his mouth. “But he’s also got connections. He had to fight pretty hard to keep Sammy away from his father. Nica used to write me about the court battle. I hear it was pretty fierce.”

Cooper’s turn to grimace. “I take it his dad….”

“Not a great person,” Taylor said. He didn’t flicker his eyes to Brandon’s, and Brandon looked at him as though he hadn’t heard this story. “Abusive,” Taylor told them both. “At least to Sammy’s mom. We’re not sure how much Sammy saw, but we have the feeling he knows more than he lets on. But the point is, Channing has ins with the family court system. Odds are good he and Tino will be her legal guardians before she gets home.” Both of them looked at him soberly. “I hope that’s okay with you.”

Cooper fought the urge to cry out of sheer relief. “Oh my God,” he said softly. “I’ll have help.”

Brandon scrubbed at his eyes with his hand and let out a sharp bark of laughter. “All you had to do was ask, moron. But seriously. You’re good with this?”

“Yeah.” Cooper nodded, thanking God that Felicity had more people in her corner. “She… she followed me home. I told you that. Twice. She just wanted someone to love her. Think she was special.” His eyes burned, but he didn’t want to tell this to Brandon and Taylor. It was like his kisses. He only wanted Sammy to have them. “I’m glad she’s got a whole household now.”

“Is anything wrong?” Brandon asked, and then, as though he was clairvoyant, “How’s Sammy?”

“Subtle, Brand,” Taylor muttered. “Real fuckin’ subtle.” He turned his attention to Cooper. “We heard he had a nosebleed on Saturday. And we see him on campus sometimes. Today he was running for the parking lot looking like death warmed over. How is he?”

Oh God. Cooper wanted to confide in them so badly. “We’re worried,” he said tentatively. “The nosebleed was scary. He was tired Sunday night too.” There. He’d said enough without giving away a confidence.

Brandon shoved a cookie in his mouth and then talked as he chewed. “He needs to start feeding his spleen. Squash, kale, spinach—like a juice or a smoothie in the mornings, in addition to those supplements he takes. And he should probably be taking folic acid and B-12 too. But that’s the doctor’s end.”

Taylor stood up. “Give me a list and I’ll go get it.”

“Right now?” Brandon asked, reaching for another cookie.

“Yes, right now. Everybody else is out doing legal shit, Cooper’s here with the kids, and dammit, I don’t like the way that kid looked today. They’ve got a juicer. Let’s make a shit-ton and freeze it. He’s probably already out of Stacy’s smoothies. Am I right, kid?”

Cooper nodded bemusedly. When Taylor had a plan of action, he didn’t screw around. “Show me,” he said suddenly. “When you get back, show me how to use the juicer. I’ll make him juice when everyone else is eating breakfast.”

Brandon smiled and low-fived him. “My man. You get the family conspiracy thing. Good.” He stood up and used the napkin to clean up the crumbs on his shirt and the coffee table. “We’ll be back. You occupy the short people. We can make good things happen!”

Heartened, Cooper went back in the kitchen and started Keenan on his homework, giving Letty something to color while he started dinner. Brandon and Taylor were back in half an hour, and then he really got to work.

By the time Channing and Felicity walked in, Tino and Sammy on their heels, homework was done, leftovers were waiting on the stove and on the counter, and a big pitcher of questionable-looking but very tasty juice sat in the refrigerator. Brandon and Taylor had needed to leave, but not before Taylor had given Cooper explicit instructions about making sure Sammy had his juice drink with his supplements every morning.

Tino and Channing gathered around the stove making plates for themselves. Felicity, looking exhausted, gave Cooper a long, wordless hug and then kissed his cheek and excused herself to go tell Keenan and Letty the big news.

“It’s all she could talk about,” Channing said, smiling tiredly. “How she gets to be a sister too.”

“Did she eat?” Cooper asked worriedly. “Did Sammy?”

“She might need to come in and get something. I fed Sammy on the way home,” Tino told him, looking worriedly in the direction of the stairs. “He bled all over his shirt—he’s probably up changing.”

“Fuck,” Channing said succinctly.

Cooper went determinedly to the refrigerator. “I’m going to bring him up a health drink,” he said, pulling out the ice and setting up a behemoth-sized glass. “Brandon and Taylor found the recipe—it’s supposed to give him vitamins to help his blood absorb iron.”

“That is an outstanding idea,” Tino said, sounding bitter. Cooper looked up in time to see Channing squeeze the back of his neck tenderly.

“It was just a long day,” Channing said. “He was running on empty when he hit the school, and it got longer after that. He’ll be okay.”

Tino scowled and shook his head, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “That kid…. Channing, our kid….”

Channing pulled him into his arms, the tenderness so intimate, Cooper was just as glad to flee the room.

He found Sammy, shirtless, huddling in bed, shivering.

“Sit up,” Cooper said gently, setting the juice down on his bed stand. “I’m going to get you a sweatshirt.”

“So stupid,” Sammy muttered. “Feel so dumb. Was trying to get it all under control—went to the doctor, have a treatment on Friday. One damned long day….” A shiver rocked him, hard. Cooper grabbed a soft gray sweatshirt, worn thin, and brought it to the bedside.

“Yeah. It was a long day. Those happen when you have to play superhero. Now here, give me your arms.” Cooper slid it over his head and helped him into it. “Oh man—your hands are freezing. Here.” Cooper tucked them under Sammy’s armpits and held the juice for him.

“What is this?” Sammy asked suspiciously.

“It’s a toxic potion designed to plant alien thoughts in your brain,” Cooper replied blandly. “It’s vegetable juice. It’s good.”

Sammy’s eyes narrowed. “Did you drink it?”

“Yes, Sammy. Watch me drink it.” Cooper took a gulp, glad Brandon and Taylor had experimented with different combinations and some seltzer water until what came out was really pretty yummy. Cooper smiled blandly and held it back to Sammy’s lips, and he opened his mouth and drank like a big boy.

He let out a sigh when he was done. “That was not awful,” he admitted. His body seemed to relax in one big tremble, and he held out his hands. “I can drink it by myself.”

Cooper waited until Sammy’s hands were locked around the glass, and then he locked his on top of them.

“I’m not going to drop it!” Sammy protested.

“I know,” Cooper said softly. “I just like holding your hands.”

Sammy paused in midsip and smiled over the brim of the cup. “That’s remarkable.” He took another sip, Cooper’s hands on top of his. “Why don’t you lie down next to me in bed? I’ll finish this off, and we can tell each other about our very long days.”

Cooper let go of his hands slowly and kept eye contact. “Okay, Sam. I can do that. Just finish the juice.”

Sammy smiled sunnily. “Course. Even little kids can finish juice.” He took a hearty swallow. “Honest.”

Cooper took him at his word and moved around to the other side of the bed before pulling up the throws and lying down on top of the covers again. Sammy held the glass with one hand and opened his arm so Cooper could lean on him. Cooper did, resting his head on Sammy’s narrow chest and listening to his heartbeat for a moment of quiet.

“This isn’t bad,” Sammy said into the silence. “You make this yourself?”

“Taylor and Brandon helped. According to them, you looked like death warmed over today.”

“Nice,” Sammy muttered, taking another swallow. “Family, what a—”

“Blessing,” Cooper said fiercely. “They went out shopping and looked up recipes that didn’t suck. You have no idea. That tastes decent. We massacred some perfectly fine vegetables to get there.”

Sammy chuckled and drank some more. “Point taken,” he said, relaxing. “You’re right—Brandon and Taylor are good people, and we’re lucky to have them. Don’t mind me.” He sighed dispiritedly. “I’m glad Felicity is safe. Tino is taking her to Keenan’s school tomorrow and registering her. I see more shopping trips in her future. That school she was going to thought they knew sparkly shoes from a hole in the ground. I’m telling you, they’ve got nothing on the bling needs of Keenan’s school. We’ll have to make sure she’s sequined to the teeth.”

Cooper chuckled too, thinking that once upon a time he would have accused someone like Sammy of thinking only materially. He wondered how much bling Sammy would have sacrificed to be able to have a long day without a nosebleed and an early bedtime.

“She’ll like that.”

“How about you?” Sammy asked perceptively. “Will you like that? She was yours and yours alone for a very long time.”

Cooper took a deep breath and went for what Sammy always went for—the truth.

“It’s the first time in two years I haven’t been terrified,” he said. Then, on a note of revelation, “Of course, now I’m terrified for you, so I guess it’s a trade-off.”

Sammy made a sound of skepticism. “I’m fine, Coop. Please—don’t worry about me.”

“Of course I’m going to worry,” Cooper insisted. “You have no idea what you’ve given me, Sam Lowell. This right here? A cuddle on the bed? Kindness? Conversation? This is everything I’ve ever dreamed of. And your hands are cold and your face is pale, and I keep thinking, more and more every day, that I need to know you’re healthy.”

“Even if I have to leave?” Sammy asked, like this mattered to him.

“Especially if you have to leave,” Cooper told him. “Because if I feel anything like this when you leave, I need to know you’re coming home.”

Sammy made a frustrated pfft. “Want to hear something pathetic?” he asked, voice shaking a little.

“I’ll hear anything you can tell me.” Cooper’s heart ached. Whatever it was, it hurt.

“I’m… I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to move out without my trust fund. I’m so embarrassed about that—my uncle made, like, three times his fortune on top of his fortune, but I don’t think I can. I think Channing bought a small house down the street so I could be close, but… but how much money does a musician make, really? How much does a teacher make? All those shows you see, a thousand people living in an apartment, finding change for Taco Bell—I wanted that. It seemed so normal. But….”

But his health was fragile. Cooper heard it—but that’s not what Sammy said.

“But you can’t fit a baby grand in an apartment with six other people,” Sammy finished, gulping the last of his juice in one swallow.

“Yeah.” Cooper’s voice sounded rusty in his own ears. “Music is important. I get it.”

“When I was a kid….” Sammy set the juice glass down and pushed back against the pillows, holding Cooper a little tighter. “When I was a kid, when I sat down at the piano and sang, I could hear my mom at the piano, singing with me. Channing told me that when she was younger, she wanted to be a musician too. But their parents—I guess sort of classic overachievers, right? So Channing, he went out of his way to tell me I could be anything I wanted. That as long as it made me happy, he was happy to finance my education. And music made me happy. Tino had to remind him of that, by the way, but it’s why I’m getting my degree in music.” He let out a self-deprecating laugh. “Stupid, right?”

“No.” Cooper wanted to touch more of him. And more and more. He settled for his hand on Sammy’s chest. “Not stupid.”

“You… you were out on your own at seventeen, Cooper. I just keep thinking that my problems probably sound like bullshit to you.”

Cooper thought about it. “When I was seventeen? Yes.” He grimaced to himself. “When you don’t have money, you think it’s the end-all and be-all, you know?”

Sammy grunted. “I see how you could think it. Life’s hard enough without having to worry about food and rent and health care.” He swallowed. “I’m perfectly aware that without Channing’s super-ultra-awesome insurance, I probably wouldn’t even be able to go to school.”

Cooper’s chest hurt. Sammy? Stuck at home? All the vibrancy he tried so hard to sustain, muted? Cooper couldn’t think about it. Instead he said, “Yeah. I was sort of bitter.” Was that why he hadn’t made any friends—not even at work? Had it been jealousy? Anger driving him? “But then Felicity followed me home. And the first time, I was… I was so scared. What if someone thought I took her? What if she got in trouble? God, what if she got beaten? I couldn’t take care of her—I mean, it was crazy stupid to even think I could take care of her, right?”

“You were a baby,” Sammy said softly. “What? Nineteen?”

“Eighteen the first time. And I took her back and promised to write and visit—and I did. Every weekend. I’d drive up on Saturday, and she’d just be… waiting on the lawn for me. Nobody had brushed her hair, and she was wearing hand-me-downs. Her face would just light up when I got there. And I remembered… I remembered being her. I remembered sitting on somebody’s lawn like leftovers from a garage sale and hoping—just hoping—somebody would want me too.”

Sammy’s head was tilted back, and his eyes were closed. “I’d want you,” he said, his lips tilted at the corners.

“I didn’t know that then.” Cooper rubbed his cheek against Sammy’s chest, thinking I don’t know that now.

“It’s true. So what did you do that first time?”

“Well, I took her out to ice cream, actually. And then to the park.” He hadn’t told anyone this, not even Taylor, that odd, hallucinogenic night in the hospital. “I just… she’d walked five miles across town. I didn’t want her to think she did all that and I didn’t care. And then I took her back to the home, and they… they didn’t even notice that she’d been gone.”

“So she ran away again?”

Cooper grunted. “That was my fault, sort of. I got a chance to work overtime. I called the house, but they didn’t bother to pass on the message. So Saturday night, I got to my crappy little apartment, and she was just….” His heart constricted. “Just sitting on the steps. Crying. In the rain, Sammy. She’d walked in the rain. And nobody was there for her. So I took her in. Got her warm, let her wear my other pair of sweats.” He laughed bitterly. “Shared my hamburger with her. And we sat and watched movies, and I just… just hugged her. Like… like you do with Letty or Keenan. And it was okay.” Weak. That sentence—weak. “It was awesome,” he confessed. “Somebody cared for me and let me care for them. So the next morning, I called to tell the home that I had her, and they… they said, ‘She’s out with friends right now. We’ll call you when she’s back.’”

Sammy grunted. “Assholes.”

“They didn’t even notice—she’d been gone all night and most of the day before. So… I just… kept her. She had one of her foster siblings sneak out her clothes. We raided the mailbox for some of the paperwork I needed to keep her in school. And… I kept her. Because nobody wanted her. But I wanted her. How could you not want someone who would walk five miles in the rain just to watch TV on your couch?”

He felt Sammy’s kiss in his hair. “Or who takes in a little girl because he wants her to know somebody loves her.”

“You’re so kind,” Cooper whispered. “I didn’t ever think the world had people this kind in it. Your uncles—they’ll do right by her, do you think?”

“I can’t imagine them screwing it up,” Sammy told him, and his laugh was only a little bitter. “They’re super-über-spectacularly competent at everything they do.”

“So are you.”

“I’m a mess. I’m… I can’t get through a long day without passing out. I used to do my homework twice because I’d do it once and forget to save it and lose the hard copy and give back the library book and….” His voice wandered sleepily. “I’m a mess.”

“Sammy, I’m living in the maid’s quarters, and it’s bigger than my last apartment. I haven’t even done anything yet to earn that.”

“You’ve been doing more every day,” Sammy told him. “You will. Being the manny is no joke with three kids, not even when you are one of those kids.”

Cooper laughed at “manny,” but only for a moment. “You’re not a kid anymore.” Sammy didn’t smell less adult than he had. His chest still felt defined, if narrow. His voice rumbled deeply against Cooper’s ear.

“I do kid things.” Sammy yawned but kept his mouth mostly shut. “I once lost my car keys three times in the same month.”

“I fell off a roof trying to control a five-hundred-pound AC unit in a windstorm.” Because which one of those things sounded dumber?

Sammy didn’t move his head, but his giggle was a puff of air against Cooper’s ear. His voice was almost too soft to hear. “I just… you know. Needed you to know that I’m, like, Channing 2.0, the glitchy version.”

Cooper caught his breath and pushed up so he could see Sammy’s expression. Was he serious about that?

But even as Cooper watched, his face relaxed completely and his breathing evened. Like a child, he’d fallen asleep.

Cooper pushed back the dark gold hair that had fallen into his eyes, and Sammy leaned into his hand. “You don’t have to be your uncles, Sam Lowell,” Cooper whispered. “You’re a perfect version of who Sammy is supposed to be.”

He stayed there for a few heartbeats, just to watch Sammy sleep.

 

 

COOPER closed the door to Sammy’s room, the juice glass in his other hand.

“I thought you would have stayed again,” Tino said softly, coming up the stairs in time to catch him.

“Felicity is going to need a hug good night,” Cooper said. Then, remembering Sammy’s honesty, he added, “And I need another pain pill. I skipped the time for my last one.”

Tino blew out a breath. “And it was a long goddamned day.”

Cooper nodded soberly. “I can’t argue.” He paused for a moment and remembered how helpless he’d felt when Felicity had called him—and how housebound. “Uh, Tino? Is there any way… I mean, I know you’ve all hinted that I’d be taking the kids to school and back and taking care of them after, and I can totally do that, but I think Brandon still has my car.” It wasn’t much of a car—a 1998 Chevy Impala that had been making a mysterious knocking noise since he’d bought it four years ago.

Tino half laughed. “Oh God. Yes. I’m sorry. We can definitely get your car back from Brandon for you. We didn’t mean to glue you to the house. You were just, you know—”

“Hurt. But my ribs are almost healed, and my collarbone is good with a brace. My concussion clock runs out tomorrow. Tonight should be my last pain pill. And Sammy starts his job next week. I’m actually going to, you know, earn my keep.”

Tino grimaced. “Don’t be too excited about that. I’ve done your job before—both paid and under the heading of parenthood. It’s a lot of work.”

Cooper bit his lip. “Honestly? I’d… I’d really like to focus on the kids. Felicity, of course, but….” He couldn’t help the smile as he remembered the chatter between Keenan and Letty and the way his girl just blended in with them and made herself a part of their dynamic. “But the kids. I’m looking forward to it. I just sort of need, you know, an orientation.”

“Of course.” Tino moved up to the landing and squeezed his good shoulder—gently. “Sammy doesn’t have classes on Friday. I’ll have him show you around. And tomorrow, if you remind me, I’ll show you where we keep the keys.” He hesitated. “I, uh, understand your car has some, uh, problems. You’ll need to drive the big family Odyssey. It’s not sexy, but it has a great stereo system and the Bluetooth thing, which is handy. You good with that?”

“Perfect.” Oh yes—it couldn’t have been more perfect. Sammy had promised he was taking care of himself. It was time to see that in action.

 

 

THE next morning, Tino took the kids to school, and Cooper got up early to make everybody breakfast.

Everybody except Sammy, who had apparently gotten up even earlier to use the practice rooms at the college. Cooper checked the level on the gallon of juice he’d left in the fridge, saw it hadn’t changed, and scowled as he cracked eggs in the pan.

“What’s the matter, Cooper?” Felicity asked, pulling him out of his funk. “Don’t you like my outfit?”

Sammy’s grandma, Stacy, had stopped by that morning with even more new clothes, and she sat at the kitchen table with her grandchildren, checking Keenan’s homework and assuring Letty that someday she too would know the glory of taking work to school and not just from school.

Cooper looked Felicity over, from her sparkly shoes to her pretty black dress and rainbow socks, and smiled, his eyes burning a little. She’d never complained—not even when her pants crept up over her ankles and her winter coat bound so tightly in the shoulders that she couldn’t button it. But look at her—so happy.

“You’re beautiful,” he said softly. “All of the other kids will think you’re amazing.” Of course, Cooper had thought so all along. He was cooking, so she gave him a careful over-the-back hug and then took the dishes out of the dishwasher and started to set the table.

“See what Felicity is doing, Keenan?” Grandma Stacy said meaningfully. “I think you are perfectly able to help.”

Keenan, unwilling to let his new sister make him look bad, was on the case, and the two of them bickered competitively while Cooper scrambled eggs. He was going to the refrigerator for cheese when Stacy stopped him.

“You look like you swallowed a bug,” she said quietly.

“He forgot his juice,” Cooper muttered. “I know he didn’t do it on purpose. I just… I didn’t know he left so early regularly.”

Stacy frowned. “Has he gone to the doctor? He promised—”

“Yeah,” Cooper said quietly, relieved to have someone in confidence. “Yesterday. He doesn’t want his uncles to know.”

“So?” Stacy asked, her voice urgent. “What did the doctor say?”

“He’s going in for a treatment on Friday.” Cooper shook his head. “I still don’t know what that means, but whether he knows it or not, I’m going with him.”

“It’s a blood transfusion,” Stacy said, her voice flat with suppressed worry. “And he hates them. And your eggs are burning, young man. You get them and I’ll get the cheese.”

Cooper tended to the eggs in the pan and took the cheese gratefully, fighting a burst of temper. “He was going to go alone,” he muttered to himself. “Why would he go alone?”

“To not worry anybody,” Stacy told him quietly, then raised her voice especially for the table. “And speaking of which, did anybody tell you how Tino won over Channing?”

“I know!” Letty said excitedly.

“Everybody knows,” Keenan grumbled, sounding bored.

“I don’t.” Felicity looked from Letty to Stacy, obviously hoping to be let in the loop. “Tell me!”

As Cooper turned toward the table to start dishing up eggs, Stacy sent him a meaningful look. “Channing was working in San Francisco, trying to move his business up here so Sammy wouldn’t have to relocate, so he asked Tino to be the nanny. Tino wanted to talk to him, but Channing got up at five every morning and got home at ten every night. One morning Channing got up to leave for the city, and Tino was up before him, cooking breakfast. And that is when they started falling in love.”

“Yeah, Mom,” Tino said, walking into the kitchen as he was knotting his tie. “That’s what did it. Oatmeal and coffee.”

“It was a good move,” Channing told the family as he followed.

“It was my move,” Stacy said, looking meaningfully at Cooper. “And I’m giving it all to you for free.”

Cooper laughed like he was supposed to—but he also took notes.

“That’s very generous,” he said, and he took her wink for approval.

“Make the most of what life gives you, young man. You only get so many chances.”

He nodded and kept serving eggs, then sat down next to Tino, who was explaining to Felicity that she was now officially part of the seemingly endless round of lessons and sports teams that Keenan and Letty participated in, while she listened with big eyes.

Cooper excused himself to go get a pen, but Channing stopped him. “We’ll have a meeting tomorrow, Coop. Tino has everything mapped out and a schedule and the whole nine yards. We’re going to have to split duty. Tino will come home two days a week because Keenan and Felicity will have one dance class in one location while Letty has another class somewhere else, but don’t worry. Notes—I’m telling you. They’re everything.”

Everybody left shortly, in a flurry of backpacks and the clatter of dishes in the sink, and Cooper remained in the empty kitchen, wondering bemusedly if this was what being with a family was always like. He started cleaning up, and when he was putting the milk back in the fridge he saw the plastic container of juice again.

And planned grimly to reset his alarm.