Chapter Eleven

 

 

THEY’D SET up a makeshift tent in the living room with the coffee table, the couch, a couple of chairs and three sheets. There were pillows and sleeping bags for sleeping on, and a blanket on the ground in front of the fire to sit on, like they were at a real campfire.

A couple of plates—one with hot dogs and one with the s’more fixings—and three mugs of hot chocolate sat on the hearth. And there were a couple of hot dog/marshmallow sticks made out of metal with wooden handles.

Not bad at all for cobbled together, if Donny did say so himself.

Robin’s eyes were huge, so excited, and they were all in their pajamas. Jeff’s were SpongeBob. Donny had laughed when he’d first seen them. They still made him chuckle. Of course, he had Oscar the Grouch ones himself. Robin’s were covered in dinosaurs, and Miss Kimberley was in her swing wearing butterfly pajamas, laughing and kicking her feet.

Donny leaned over and asked Robin quietly, “So, you wanna do the s’mores first?”

“Daddy Jeff says we hafta do hot dogs.”

“Aww, come on, Daddy Jeff. It’s a campfire in the middle of the living room. Can’t we do dessert first?” He batted his eyes at Jeff.

“Oh, that’s totally unfair.” Jeff chuckled, and Donny knew he’d won.

He grinned and clapped his hands. “Yay. Come on, Robin, in case he changes his mind back.”

Robin hopped into his lap, and Jeff chuckled, shook his head, smiling at them both with obvious fondness.

“So the first thing we do is prep the graham cracker and chocolate portion, so that we can just slide the toasted marshmallow right on it, okay?”

He grabbed the plate and let Robin take a graham cracker and a piece of chocolate. “Now break the graham cracker in two, because half of it is your top to hold everything together—like the bread for a sandwich.” It was so easy to be patient with Robin.

“Is it yucky?”

Jeff chuckled. “No. It’s amazing.”

They got the “sandwich” set up next to them, and then he gave Robin a marshmallow and held the stick for Robin to push the sweet onto it.

“Now, you’re going to have to figure out, Robin, whether you’re a burned guy or a toasted guy.” Jeff bumped shoulders with the little boy. “Me? I’m a toasted guy.”

Robin frowned and Donny could see him trying to work it out, and he had to bite his lip when Robin finally said, “I don’t wanna be burned.”

Jeff looked at Robin, all the color draining out of his face, leaving him ghost white.

Oh damn. He hadn’t even thought…. Donny reached out and took Jeff’s arm, squeezed. “No, of course not, Robin. Daddy was talking about your marshmallow. Some people like it more cooked. That’s all.”

He met Jeff’s eyes. Jeff had to keep it together here, for Robin’s sake. The boy hadn’t associated this kind of fire with the house fire at all, and they needed to keep it like that.

Jeff nodded, lips opening and closing, then he cleared his throat. “Let’s do one together.”

He rubbed Jeff’s arm and nodded, letting Robin move over to Jeff’s lap. He’d never even thought about it when he’d suggested lighting the fire and having a campout. It was maybe a good thing for both of them, though.

Still, the joy was sucked out of the room a bit, the ghost of a woman he’d never met right there.

“You know any campfire songs?” He knew quite a few, or little rounds that worked as campfire songs for a three-year-old, anyway.

“No. No, I don’t. Do you?” Jeff helped Robin carefully hold the marshmallow above the fire.

“I know a few.” He started with “Row, Row, Row Your Boat” because it was pretty simple, and he’d sung it before with Robin, who could already remember most of the words.

By the time the marshmallow was toasted—not a singed edge in sight—Jeff was relaxing, and Robin was smiling again. Donny helped them get the roasted marshmallow onto the prepared cookie and chocolate, and closed it with the second piece of cookie so Robin’s little fingers wouldn’t get too hot as he held it.

“Ta-da! This is your very first s’more.”

Robin leaned back into Jeff’s arms. “Hold it for me, Daddy?”

“Sure.” Jeff held it and Robin nibbled, nose wrinkling. “Sticky.”

Donny laughed. “But good?”

Robin took another bite. “Uh-huh.”

Jeff snorted, looked over Robin’s head, mouthing, “Sorry about earlier.”

Donny shook his head and mouthed back, “It’s okay.”

Jeff ate the last three-quarters of Robin’s s’more, then helped Robin toast another one. Donny had to admit, the real draw of the s’mores was always roasting the marshmallow over the fire.

“Is that one for me?” he asked.

“For you, Donny.” Robin grinned at him, lips coated in marshmallow goo. “Did you like my mommy?”

“I never got to meet your mommy, but your daddy told me that she was very special.”

Robin nodded, then turned to Jeff. “Hot dog now?”

“You’ll have to make us gourmet hot dogs for next time,” Donny teased Jeff.

“I can do that.” Jeff didn’t even blink.

He did, though. “Really?”

“Of course.”

“That’s too cool. Isn’t that neat, Robin? Your daddy can make anything.”

“Uh-huh. Hot dog.” Robin pointed, imperious.

Laughing, Donny put a hot dog on the end of Robin’s roasting stick, making sure it was firmly set and wasn’t going to fall off into the fire.

Jeff reached over, tickled Kimberley’s toes, and the baby squealed.

Donny pulled Robin over to sit with him and helped him hold the stick at a good spot. “The trick with hot dogs is to turn your stick pretty often. That way it gets warm all over instead of too much in one spot.”

Robin nodded, eyes on the fire. “Like hot dogs.”

Donny knew that, and thank God because he wasn’t a chef like Jeff, and he made a lot of hot dogs. He slid his hand along Robin’s shoulder. “You’re doing a great job. You just need to be careful. Just like that.”

They managed to get the hot dog cooked, and then they did a couple more so they each had one. Robin was laughing and snacking on his supper when the doorbell rang.

Jeff frowned. “I’ll get it. You guys camp.”

“Sure.” It was a little late in the day for visitors. Donny hoped it wasn’t bad news.

The door opened, and he heard Jeff sigh. “What do you want?”

“We need to talk.”

“Not here. Not now. I’m busy.”

“With SpongeBob pajamas on?”

“Yes.”

Well, that didn’t sound particularly friendly. Donny turned to Robin. “You want another marshmallow?”

“Uh-huh. Who’s that?”

“I don’t know. Daddy’s taking care of it, though.” He handed Robin a marshmallow, watching as Robin’s tongue came out as he tried to put it on the end of his stick.

“Outside, you ass.” No. No, not friendly at all. Donny guessed this was the evil ex.

“Bad word!”

“Yeah, yeah, that was, wasn’t it?” He tucked Robin into his lap. “Let’s get that marshmallow toasted.”

 

 

“WHAT THE fuck do you want?” Jeff was going to lose his shit. He was having an evening with his son. With the hours he worked, those were few and far between.

“I want my half of the house. I want my fucking lover back, my life. I want you to finally decide to stop playing daddy.”

“I’m not fucking playing!” he roared. Jeff was so fucking tired of this shit.

“Oh, please. You’re not happy tied down with two kids. You’ve done ‘the right thing’ now. You’ve made a good show of it for everyone. It’s past time for you to give them up and let us get back to our life.”

He’d never realized how strident Mitch could be.

“Look, you fuck, you left. Go. Whatever. This is my home, and those are my children.” Asshole.

“This is half my home, you son of a bitch, and I am your lover. You are not choosing those fucking brats over me.”

“I built this house. Me.” His fists were clenched. “Don’t you talk about my kids.”

“You selfish prick. You’re going to throw our perfect life away like this?”

Selfish. Him. Right. “Get out, Mitch. Go away. I’m busy.”

“You fucking owe me, asshole.” Mitch’s face was all twisted up with anger, and it made Jeff kind of wonder a little what it was he’d seen in the man.

“I’ll give you until the count of three, and then I’m going to beat the fuck out of you.” He’d never hit another man in his life, but he thought he could.

“You lay one finger on me, and I’ll sue the hell out of you! I’m calling my lawyer as it is. I want my half of this house. I want my half of everything, and I’m going to get it, you fucking bastard.”

“You’re not getting a dime. Not a dime. I’m the one who worked. I’m the one who got the loan. I’m the one paying the bills. You rode on my coattails. Fuck off.”

“We’ll just see.” Mitch sneered at him. “I’m going to take you to the cleaners. Let’s see how much you like those kiddies when they’ve cost you a fortune. You should have gotten rid of them and taken me back, Jeff. You’ll see—I’m gonna make you pay.”

Mitch turned and stomped down the stairs, making the whole porch shake.

He watched the bastard leave, then leaned against the house, sucking in hitching breaths. He’d loved that bastard, had thought he was loved in return. Jesus.

Now that they weren’t yelling, he could hear Don and Robin singing. Very determinedly. Okay. Okay, man. You have kids. You have to do this.

He went back into the living room, and the singing faded, both Don and Robin looking at him, eyes wide.

“Hey. Did I miss all the hot dogs?”

“No, we’ve got a couple left. Let’s make a hot dog for Daddy.”

“Bad words, Daddy!”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know. Sorry, Robbie.”

“Everything okay?” Don looked a little shell-shocked, shaken.

“Yeah. Sorry.” He cooked the hot dog, lips tight.

Don shifted closer to him once he’d finished cooking it.

“Hey.” He kissed Don’s temple, the top of Robin’s head.

Don took his hand and squeezed it. “What can we do to help?”

“You’re doing it.”

Don smiled and leaned against him a little. “You wanna sing another song, Robin? Or should we tell campfire stories?”

“I want Dora on the TV.”

“Is that okay, Jeff? We could put out the fire and get him ready for B. E. D.”

“I think that’s fine.” He’d burned his hot dog to a crisp anyway.

“Good. You want to deal with the fire, or teeth and stuff?”

“I’ll clean up.” He needed a shot of whiskey, something to take the edge off.

“Okay.” Don touched his arm. “We can talk once Robin is settled.”

“Yeah.” He nodded—a little pissed off, a lot ashamed of losing his temper.

Don kissed his cheek and grabbed Robin’s hand. “Come on, let’s go get ready for bed, and then we can put on Dora.”

“Can I sleep in here?”

Jeff listened to the idle chatter, then grinned at Kimberley, who was sound asleep in her swing. “Let me clean this up, and I’ll put you to bed, baby.”

He soon had the fire out and the DVD set up, and then Robin and Don were back, Don helping Robin climb into the sleeping bag under the chair-and-sheet tent. As they settled, he got Kimberley out of her swing, managed to change her and get her into bed without waking her. Score one for Daddy Jeff.

Don met him on the upstairs landing, moving in to give him a hug. “Are you okay?”

“No.” He held on tight.

Don simply held him. “Let’s go sit in your bedroom—Robin’s asleep in front of Dora. He’ll be fine.”

“You sure?” He led Don into the room.

“We’ll hear him if he calls out, but I think he’s down for the night.” Don tugged him onto the bed and took his hand. “You wanna tell me about it?”

“He came to see if I was ready to stop playing daddy.” Jeff leaned hard against Don. Asshole.

Don’s arms went around him, holding him close. “He sounded like a real asshole. I tried to make sure Robin didn’t hear everything.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault he’s being such a dickwad about this.” Don kissed the top of his head. “Does he actually want you back, or is he just being an asshole?”

“I have no idea. I’m not sure I care.”

Don squeezed him gently.

“He’s an idiot, you know. Giving a hot, studly guy like you up.”

“He’s…. He’s not who I thought he was.”

“No, I hope not. I’d hate to think you’d go for an asshole like that.”

All Jeff could do was nod. He didn’t have an answer.

“Would it be tacky if I wanted to kiss you to try and make you forgot about him?” Don looked like he might do it anyway.

“Probably. Would it be tacky if I let you?”

“Most likely.” Don leaned into him.

“Good to know.” He wrapped an arm around Don’s shoulders.

Don pressed their lips together, the touch soft but with a hint of electricity in it.

“Mmm….” Jeff moaned, leaned into the touch.

Don’s tongue slid along his lips. He opened up, willing as hell to let Don make him feel better. Don shifted, moving to straddle him as his warm hands cupped Jeff’s face. Don deepened the kiss.

He moaned and reached out, fingers gripping Don’s waist.

“You taste good,” murmured Don, hips rolling a bit.

“Thank you.” He imagined he tasted like marshmallow.

Don grinned and pressed against him, pushing him off balance and onto his back on the bed.

Jeff draped one arm around Don’s shoulders, held on tight as the kiss deepened, their tongues sliding together.

“I want to feel you inside me.” He barely heard Don’s whispered words.

“Oh damn, baby….” Jeff moaned, hips rolling up, his body all over that thought. He nodded, hand sliding down Don’s spine to find that wonderful ass and….

The crash was huge, Robin’s scream from downstairs bigger.

“Robin!”

He shoved Don off him, falling to his knees as he scrambled for his son. Don was right there with him, the two of them flying down the stairs.

Robin was sitting up in his makeshift tent, crying softly.

“You get him upstairs.” There was a brick on the floor, the huge bay window shattered. “Now.”

He grabbed the phone, dialed 9-1-1, and pulled the door open, looking for Mitch. Fucker.

Don gathered Robin up, talking softly as he took Robin upstairs.

“Yes, 9-1-1 operator, can I help you?”

“Someone just threw a brick through my window. My children are here with me. I don’t know if whoever did this is still out there.”

His babies were here. That brick could have hurt his son. Jeff’s fingers clenched around the phone.