That’s one way to get out of answering a difficult question.

This must be so overwhelming to him, so frightening. I pat Joey’s back, trying to soothe him, failing miserably.

“Dillon, c’mon, bring him to bed,” Jacks says, coming forward, arms out. “Let him sleep with us. It’ll calm him down. He’ll wake the others. Come on.”

My brain feels stuck, like I barely understand what’s happening. I’ve felt a lot like that today. I nod at Jack.

The idea hadn’t occurred to me, and I’m not quite sure why. It makes sense.

“Come on,” Jack urges, taking Joey from my arms, settling him in the middle of the bed, snugging a pillow under his head.

I crawl back in on the other side, laying down beside Joey, who is still crying. As soon as his head hits the pillow, though, his sobs grow gentle and quiet. Jack slips under the covers next to the boy and pulls them high up to Joey’s neck. “Get comfy,” he whispers, stroking the little boy’s hair. “You’re safe with us. We’re right here.”

In a moment, Joey’s eyelids grow heavy. The tears stop. His breathing eases. Jack continues stroking his hair, his fingers soothing and gentle. In another moment, Joey turns, rolling onto his stomach, kicking a boney little knee up into mine. He lifts his thumb, sticking it in his mouth as Jack softly rubs his back. A few minutes later, he’s almost snoring, lost in a deep, baby sleep.

“See how easy that was?” Jack observes smiling, his voice low. “All any of us need is just a safe place and a soft touch.”

I must have been crazy to ever doubt what I feel for this man. I knew he was kind and generous. I knew he was soulful and passionate. I never imagined him like this though. He’s a natural with kids. He was great with them today, but it’s a piece of cake to be great with someone else’s kids when you know you can walk away from them anytime you like. It’s an altogether different thing to take a frightened child into your life, soothe his tears away, and make him feel safe.

A lot of people can’t do that with their own kids, much less someone else’s.

Jack is a keeper. He deserves complete honesty from me. He deserves that respect.

I watch him. His eye are still open, despite the nonstop insanity of the past twenty-four hours.

“Gil…” I begin, keeping my voice low. “I’ll always love Gil. Like a brother… because that’s what he is.”

Jack meets my eyes in the near-darkness. I can’t make out his expression; I can only guess what he’s feeling.

“A long time ago I thought there might be more, but Gil realized that we’re not suited to each other. Gil wants to change the world. He’s ambitious, driven. He never sits still. He needs the next big challenge—always. I followed that son-of-a-bitch into a war zone,” I admit, suppressing a wry smile. “He needed the adventure. I wanted to be with him. He kept pressing me to do more, be more, want more, and when he figured out I wasn’t ever going to be driven like that, he moved on.”

I swallow hard, feeling all of it in a way I haven’t allowed myself to feel it in years.

“Gil did me a favor. There was nothing worse than being with him and constantly knowing I was a disappointment. I see him now, the way he looks at Kendall, and I know he never felt anything close to that for me. I’m happy for them.”

Jack’s jaw clenches. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, as if processing what I’ve said. I hope it’s enough. I hope it answers his question, without leaving more questions behind it.

“Gil’s not disappointed in you,” he says, as if he knows what Gil thinks. “He’s your best friend. But just for the record, I adore you, just the way you are. I actually envy you—how easy you are with people. How you don’t sweat the small stuff. How you find joy in the simple things. I hope I’m enough. I’m nothing like Gil Steele.”

I smile, shaking my head. “I don’t want you to be like Gil. There’s not enough room in this town for two of them.” I lean forward, closing the space between us, crowding Joey, who protests in his sleep before readjusting. I kiss Jack chastely, brushing our noses together. “You’re the one that I want,” I admit. “You make me feel good about myself. I don’t like being without you.” I pause. “That’s what I was going to tell you… before all of this.”

Jack nods, but he seems unconvinced. “That’s not the same as wanting to be with me.”

“I want that, too,” I say.

“We should get some sleep,” he says. “I’m about to drop.”

I turn out the light, settling down to sleep with a little boy dozing hot breath on my neck, reminding me of all the good in the world. In a few moments I hear Jack snoring lightly, his exhaustion finally giving way to rest. I lie awake in the dark a long time, just thinking about all that’s transpired today. Big changes are afoot. I’m taking on responsibilities I never imagined for myself. I recall the day Jordan was born and the promises I made to always be there for him. It’s well past time I honored those promises.

When I next open my eyes, I wake to the sun streaming into the bedroom, with the distinct sense of being pressed into a tight space. With sleep still fogging my brain, I push up on my elbows to see what’s what. The bed—my bed—is crowded with people. Joey’s still here tucked between Jack and me, but Chrissy has crawled in beside him, her arms wrapped around, snuggling him close, pressing me and Jack to the far edges of either side of the mattress. Most surprising of all is Jordan. He’s curled up at the foot of the bed, a pillow tucked under his head, his thumb pressed into his mouth, sleeping soundly at our feet.

This is what I have to look forward to. It’s scary, and funny, and joyous, and ridiculous. It’s awkward and strange and sweet.

“Rise and shine,” I call out to the whole crowd. “Everybody up. It’s time for breakfast.”

Jordan opens his eyes, then quickly jerks his thumb from his mouth, his expression revealing more than shame at having been caught.

“Do you like French toast?”Jack asks me as he tousles Joey’s hair.

“I like French toast,” I say, stretching, yawning.

“I like French toast, too.” I turn, and Chrissy peers up at me, eyes wide, a fragment of a smile turning her sweet little lips almost imperceptibly. “Can we have syrup?”

I nod, grinning at her. “Lot’s of syrup. Tons of butter. Now get moving, sleepyheads.”

* * *

The next few weeks pass by in a blur. Jack, Kathi, Ginny and I are ridiculously busy trying to get the kids everywhere they need to be—enrolled in Meadowview Elementary School near where I live, settled in their new rooms with posters and toys and all the things they never had, and to the doctors that help with the kids’ terrifying symptoms. It turns out that Joey and Chrissy were never vaccinated. Jack, humble and quiet and steady as a rock, takes both of them to appointment after appointment to get them up to date on their shots without overwhelming their delicate little bodies. Jordan is angry and sullen and far too morose for his eleven years on this earth. The school doesn’t quite know what to do with him, given that his IQ is off the charts for his age, but he missed so many days at Damascus Elementary that he should be held back a year or more. Joey cries at the drop of a hat, and he still clings to Chrissy. More than once when I’ve walked in to wake Joey up for school, he has started to panic like a terrified, caged animal.

I keep wondering what their father and their son-of-a-bitch grandfather did to them, and what Kimmie didn’t do.

My head is so full of the things I should have done to keep them safe that I keep avoiding talking to Jack. I keep avoiding all the things I need to say to him, the things that will keep him in my life and make sure that he’s always there. I told him I wanted him in my life, but I know that wasn’t enough, not now, not with all of this.

Maybe I’m too scared or too shocked—and sometimes I think that he’ll disappear if I tell him how much I care about him. He’ll wise up to the fact that I’m nothing more than a boy, pretending to be grown up. And when I lose him, I’m terrified that CPS will come and take the kids. Without Jack, I wouldn’t survive any of this. And neither would the kids.

When it comes to the kids, Jack is magic—like he was made for this, like it was all meant to be. Beautiful, lithe Jack with his impish grin and his ability to figure anything out when it comes to the kids. He’s the only one who can get them to eat, bathe, or do homework. And still, he’s spending at least half of his time at Kathi’s, mentioning every once in a while that he’s trying to find a place of his own.

When it comes down to it, maybe I’m just as terrified as these children are, waiting for the other shoe to drop. The day that I file for full legal guardianship looms closer and closer, and I haven’t told Jack how grateful I am, how deeply I appreciate him.

The night before, he’s still next to me, despite all the words I haven’t said, holding my hand and whispering to me how strong I am, telling me how much the kids need me, how much I’m doing to help all of them.

In the dark, he holds me close on the sofa in my well-worn living room that is now wrecked with toys and artwork and backpacks.

“Everything will be fine,” Jack says. “I promise.”

“You keep telling me that.” The few sentences I’ve been holding onto for a long time stay trapped deep inside of me. I swallow hard, trying to will myself to tell him how needed he is. “And I just don’t know if it’s true. I’m scared.”

Scared that Kimmie will go to prison, scared that their grandfather might show up and threaten to take them, scared that they’ll never be healthy or whole, that I can’t be what they need. Scared that CPS will find out what a fraud I am, that they’ll take the kids.

Scared that you’ll leave, Jack.

Jack holds me tight in his strong arms and he kisses me deeply. “It’s okay to be scared, Dillon,” he whispers. “If you weren’t, you wouldn’t be living.”

That’s just the thing, though. I’ve spent a long time hiding from my fears.

And maybe, because of that, I haven’t been living at all.

But kids don’t let you hide. They break everything open inside of you and force you to face yourself, even your oldest and darkest wounds.

I wake up on the sofa some hours later, cold and alone. The early light is creeping in through the windows, the leaves just starting to change. I sit up, panicking. Today is the day, and Jack is gone. He decided to leave.

My heart pounds. I need him. I need him today. I’ll have to see Kimmie alone, the judge, my lawyer—

I’m about to lie back down and cry, but I hear the ring of Jack’s cast iron skillet in the kitchen, followed by the cracking of eggs and a whisk working in one of the ceramic bowls he brought over from Kathi’s. My heart rate slows, and Jack pops around the corner from the kitchen, looking at me.

“Go shower,” he says. “You look like shit.”

I laugh, harder than I should, putting my head in my hands. “Good morning to you too, Jack.”

“Seriously, man. I put out clothes for you. The slim fit striped Calvin Klein shirt with the dark blue tie. And the gray dress pants.”

“Um,” I say, feeling the two-day-old stubble on my chin. I need to shave. “Do I… need a suit jacket? Do I have one?”

“No,” Jack says, popping back into the kitchen. I hear the sizzle of butter on the skillet. “Don’t look like you’re trying too hard.”

I smile to myself. I hear doors opening down the hallway, kids thumping towards the bathroom, a TV in Jordan’s room turning on. “I’ll go do that. You’ve got breakfast?”

“What do you think I’m doing in here?” Jack shouts over the sizzling pancakes and kitchen fan. “Now go. And shave.”

I’m frazzled, exhausted—and possibly ready to take these kids on for the foreseeable future.

Thanks to Jack, I might just survive the day.