Them (Him #3)

by Carey Heywood

  Stepping away from her, I spit my bite into the sink and rinse my mouth before straightening to glare at her. Logan is sitting at the island, his head lying on his arms as he laughs outright.

  “Not funny,” I toss in his direction before turning back to face her.

  Her face is the picture of sweetness as she takes another bite and asks, “What?”

  Logan is gasping for air at this point but manages to say, “I can’t believe you ate something she made without asking first,” between his panted breaths.

  “It looked normal,” I grumble, marching over to the fridge and pulling open the door.

  I grab a Gatorade and turn back to them, twisting off the cap.

  “How was school, honey?” Sarah grins at me, still eating that disgusting sundae.

  “My day was wonderful until about five minutes ago,” I grumble.

  She pouts, even though she of all people knows my bark is worse than my bite. I cave, setting my drink down before tugging her bowl out of her hand and setting it down, as well. Then I fold her into my arms and kiss the top of her head. She may have just attempted to poison me, but seeing her after a long day of work will always be the highlight of my day.

  “It’s better now that you’re in my arms,” I confess, my annoyance all gone.

  She tucks her head under my chin and rests her hands on my chest. I’ll never want to let her go, but it would be hard to spend each moment of the rest of our lives with her in my arms. Besides, she has that awful creation to eat and Logan has news.

  I shift her until we’re both facing Logan and hand her back her bowl before draping my arm across her shoulder. “Logan had something interesting happen today.”

  In an instant, his face is red and he tries to look away.

  “Where’s Rascal?” he asks innocently.

  “In the backyard,” Sarah answers. “Now, don’t try and distract me. What happened at school?”

  “It’s about Amber.” I grin until she smacks my chest with her free hand.

  “How does Will know before me?” she cries and Logan ducks his head.

  “He told me on the ride home,” I brag, loving that I know more than her and it’s driving her nuts. It’s the perfect revenge for what she tried to feed me.

  “Tell me,” she pleads. “Did you ask her out? Are you guys going to go on a date?”

  Her theories are pretty spot-on.

  “Um, she asked me out,” Logan shyly admits.

  “Yay!” Sarah whoops and then pauses. “You said yes, didn’t you?”

  He nods, his face getting red.

  “I like her.” Sarah celebrates with another bite. “Tell me everything.”

  I kiss the side of her head as Logan starts retelling how she was waiting by his locker after final block. Since I’ve already heard this part, I head toward the backdoor to let Rascal back in. She’s gotten so big over the past few months. She’ll never be huge, but she’s solidly medium-sized. The rottie in her is clear as day in her coloring and build.

  I’m guessing it’s the lab that has her acting crazy. She excitedly jumps and paws at my legs the moment I open the door.

  “Hey, girl. Who’s a good girl?” I murmur, bending down to rub her head.

  My current level of attention isn’t enough apparently. She barks and continues to jump on me until I cave and sink down to the floor. She’s in my lap in an instant, her tongue going for my face as she excitedly tries to lick me. I hug her to me, laughing at the way she’s humming with happy energy. With the exception of a couple of destroyed shoes, she’s been the best dog we could ask for.

  Now that Sarah is working more, Rascal gives her an excuse to get away from her desk to play. During the time when her morning sickness was at its worst, Rascal was her constant guardian. She wouldn’t leave Sarah’s side no matter what.

  Logan has finished telling Sarah all about the impending date by the time Rascal and I walk back into the kitchen. Thankfully, Sarah has also finished her disgusting sundae.

  “Do you know what movie you’re going to go see?” Sarah asks Logan.

  He frowns. “I was going to let her pick since she asked.”

  I pick up my Gatorade and lift it in approval in his direction. “Smart man.”

  “I guess that’s okay, as long as it isn’t R-rated,” Sarah adds.

  Logan nods. He’s a good kid. He’s been one since the day he moved in and before that, when I only knew him as a student in my class.

  Sarah and I are considering adopting him. We both want to; the only thing stopping us is our own nerves about asking Logan if he wants it, as well. Will he think we’re trying to replace his family? Will the idea of being stuck with us until he’s eighteen upset him? We’re going to talk to his counselor before we try and do anything.

  “I visited with Christine and Reilly today.” Sarah grinned.

  I slip onto the stool next to Logan. “How’re they doing?”

  A dreamy look passes over Sarah’s eyes before she focuses back on us. “Reilly is so sweet. I held her for an hour and she slept the whole time. Her little lips would purse in the cutest way and oh, my God, she smelled so good. All I want to do is go back over there right now and smell her little head.”

  Logan raises his brows at me and I shrug. I’m pretty sure I’m going to act the same way once our little one is here. Until then, I’ll let Sarah have all the fun gushing over our new niece.

  “Was Calvin there?”

  She shakes her head. “Brian and Christine thought it would be easier on her if he went back to preschool. That way, she can sleep when the baby sleeps and not have to worry about him getting into anything.”

  “Is Reilly sleeping better?”

  She grimaces. “Not even a little bit. Christine dozed off while I was holding Reilly, she’s so exhausted. They have a bassinette in their room, so it’s not like she has to go far to get her when she wakes up to eat, but she’s waking up every couple of hours.”

  My eyes widen. All I can picture is how our baby’s birth will coincide right with the start of school. Good thing zombies are so popular. There’s a good chance I’ll be a walking, talking version of one next school year if I don’t get any sleep.

  “Can Brian do anything to help?” I ask, really just to get ideas for myself.

  “She’s trying to let him sleep since he has to go to work, and being a sleep-deprived lawyer won’t impress the partners. She has a breast pump. She’s going to start pumping on the weekends, so Friday and Saturday nights they can trade off with feedings and she’ll get some sleep.”

  Logan wrinkles his nose. “Is your baby going to be up all night, too?”

  Sarah and I both laugh. It’s a fearful, forced-sounding laugh for both of us.

  “I hope not,” Sarah replies.

  I elbow him. “At least we’ll have you around to help out. You want to volunteer for all the night feedings?”

  His panicked expression has me laughing outright.

  Sarah does her best to try and calm him back down. “Don’t listen to Will. You know he’s teasing. Besides, if anyone is volunteering for all of the night feedings, it will be him.”

  Logan laughs while I reply, “Hey!”

  Sarah ignores and asks, “What do you boys want for dinner?”

  Logan and I both jump from our stools to usher her from the kitchen. There’s no way we’re letting her cook again. She keeps coming up with the craziest combinations and unfortunately, she’s the only person in the house who likes them. Even Rascal refused to taste her tuna-macaroni-guacamole disaster when some of it fell on the floor.

  “You need to rest,” I murmur as we lead her to the living room.

  Logan pushes the coffee table closer to her. “Here. Put your feet up.”

  I hand her the remote. “Why don’t you watch one of your HGTV shows?”

  She accepts the remote but sets it on the seat next to her before crossing her arms over her chest. “I know what you both are doing.”

  Log
an and I glance at each other before giving her our most innocent looks. “What do you mean?” I hedge.

  She rolls her eyes and shoos us away before picking up the remote. Logan and I head back to the kitchen and high-five once we get there.

  “That was close,” he whispers.

  I nod. “Only three more months.”

  He cringes. “She’s going to try and cook again.”

  I pat his shoulder. “One day at a time, man. That’s all we can do. So, what should we make for dinner?”

  He glances out the kitchen window into the backyard. “Want to grill?”

  Sarah

  Will and I sat down with Logan as soon as school was out to discuss our wanting to adopt him. We did this after having a meeting with just the two of us, and Logan’s counselor. While his counselor couldn’t outright tell us what they discussed during their sessions, she was able to encourage us to discuss adoption with him.

  In doing so, we only wished we had talked about it sooner. Logan had never brought wanting us to adopt him up because he was still scared that once the baby came, we would abandon him. After, we explained our only reservation in moving forward with adoption was our own fear that he didn’t want that. We would have remained his foster parents forever if that was what he wanted.

  In Georgia, the process to adopt a foster child takes months. We’ll be lucky if we’re his parents by the end of the year, and our situation is already what they considered as fast-tracked because we’re his foster parents. The classes and home visits required by the state to adopt him we’ve already been doing so we can foster him.

  Given his age and the connection he had to his own family, and that we continue to nourish those memories, he has no plans of ever calling us Mom or Dad. We’ll always be Sarah and Will to him, and that’s okay. Neither of us cares about that as long as he can rest certain each day with us of how deeply we’ve come to love him.

  Logan, apart from Will, may be the sweetest boy I’ve ever met. For someone so young, who has experienced so much loss during his short life, he still manages to face each new day optimistically. Even more so now that the relief of our wanting to adopt him is certain. He is the consummate little gentleman. He carries things for me from room to room, even when I argue with him that I’m pregnant, not invalid.

  He and Will have completely taking over all cooking duties, and even when I offer to cook they both jump up demanding that I rest. The only things they’ll still let me make food-wise are little snacks for myself here and there.

  Having them both home every day for the summer has made me beyond happy. The extra help in getting the house ready for the baby has been huge, as well. Will teases that I’m nesting, and I suppose I am. I have never felt as manic about decorating and organizing anything in my life.

  I need the baby’s room to be just right. Last week, Will and Logan sent me to spend the day with Christine and Reilly while they painted the nursery. We decided on a pale shade of mint green for the walls. It goes perfectly with the nursery rhyme-inspired bedding and curtains we picked out. Will’s mom and my parents bought our furniture for us.

  It’s a timeless blonde wood with matching crib, dresser, changing table, bookshelf and rocking chair. Sometimes, without even noticing I’ve gone to the nursery, I find myself rocking in the chair, already imagining holding our baby in my arms, as I will in the future.

  I stressed over washing every article of clothing in the right detergent and making sure every gift was put away with care. Each day, I go over a mental checklist of the things we’ll still need to get so we’ll be ready when the baby comes.

  In two weeks, Logan will be gone for a whole week, away at a sleep-away lacrosse camp in Florida. I should be stressing over the pack list his camp sent us, but I can’t seem to focus on anything but this room. Even now, I’m once again rocking in this chair.

  My eyes drift over the bookshelf, already filling with favorites from Will’s and my childhood. The classics we grew up with and will so be reading to our child.

  “Darling.”

  My eyes lift from the shelf to the door and warm as I see Will leaning against the frame.

  “Logan and I are going to take Rascal to the park. Want to come with?” he asks.

  I nod, placing my hands on the arms of the chairs and shaking my head when he crosses the room to help me stand. I am moving a bit slower these days, unless it’s in the direction of the bathroom. This baby seems intent to constantly bounce on my bladder. I can’t go anywhere without a bathroom break anymore.

  I meet my boys and Rascal, who is bustling with energy at the prospect of a family walk, at the front door. Logan mans the leash as Will takes my hand. Together, with Logan and Rascal leading the way, we walk toward the park.

  There’s an ice cream truck parked, its ‘Pop Goes the Weasel’ tune blaring, when we get there. Logan lifts his brows in a silent plea and grins when Will inclines his head. I wait with Rascal while they both go to get us ice cream.

  Logan comes back with an Italian ice while Will has a king cone for each of us, complete with fudge and nuts on top.

  “Yum.” I trade Will Rascal’s leash for my cone.

  We find a picnic table and sit, Logan and I on one side, Will with Rascal on the other. I can’t help but wonder if the parents pushing their kids on the swings or waiting in line for an ice cream of their own assume that Logan is our son. I would have been a teenage mom long before that show was popular to have a child as old as Logan is.

  Logan is looking forward to being a big brother, though. It’s something both Will and I have heard him talk to Amber about. She has two little sisters and has been trying to convince him having a younger sibling isn’t always as fun as it sounds.

  Thankfully, she’s mainly teasing when she says this. With the exception of the time her youngest sister dropped her phone and cracked the screen. Although, there could be something in the fact that they’re all girls.

  Was I just as annoying to Brian? It’s not like I stole his clothes or jewelry the way Amber’s sisters did.

  When I was growing up, I wondered what it would be like to be the big sister. Brian was such a good big brother, so protective and encouraging. I wanted to be that for someone else.

  “You still with us?”

  I blink away my thoughts and look up to see both Logan and Will are now standing and waiting for me to join them.

  “Sorry. I was lost in my thoughts,” I apologize, hurrying to stand.

  Will passes the leash to Logan and reaches for my hand. “All good thoughts, I hope.”

  I nod. “Nothing bad. Silly things, really. I was thinking about how I wanted a little sister or brother when I was growing up.”

  Logan has started and is a few steps ahead of us. Rascal doesn’t care where she’s going on a walk; she only wants to get there quickly. I’m not moving as fast as I had on the way to the park, and Will hangs back to walk at my pace.

  “Did your parents ever want any more kids?”

  I shrug. “I don’t think so, or at least they never mentioned it.”

  He gives my hand a squeeze. “I always wanted a brother. Brian was one of the reasons I hung out at your house so much in the beginning. I wanted his brotherness to rub off on me.”

  “And here I thought I was the sole pull,” I joke.

  He lets go of my hand to swing his arm around my shoulders, tucking me close to his side. “Once I was smart enough, you were.”

  I wrap my arm around his waist. “Took you long enough. I had a crush on you from the moment I saw you.”

  He makes a mock flip of his hair. “How could you not?”

  In those days, Will was the guy every girl in our school crushed on. He didn’t see me as anything more than a best friend until years after we had known each other. In some ways, he fought against his attraction to me, terrified that if things didn’t work out between us romantically he would lose me forever.

  It’s sad that he was almost right, that our own mutual imm
aturity had separated us for so long. He hates it when I fuss over what might have been. There’s a guilt I carry with me for leaving him all those years ago. I can admit we were both at fault, but in my mind I own the lion’s share of it. I was the one who ran. That’s a mistake I’ll never make again.

  Stepping through the front door, I sigh as the air conditioning hits me. July in Georgia can get ‘cooking eggs on a sidewalk’ hot with an added layer of outdoor sauna-level humidity. The ice cream helped, but I’m soaked with sweat and need a shower.

  The heat doesn’t seem to bother Logan. He gets a glass of lemonade and decides to mow the front yard since he’s already sweaty.

  I’ve only been in the shower long enough to put shampoo in my hair when Will joins me, making me yelp in surprise. When I first started showing, I was terrified Will would think I looked fat. Once my morning sickness passed, his inability to keep his hands off me dispelled that fear.

  Showers in particular seem to be his favorite. He’s fascinated with my growing belly and doesn’t seem to mind the fact that I’ve gone up two cup sizes in my bras. He would happily spend hours lathering body wash up and over all of me.

  He sits on the bench, shifting me till I stand in front of him, the water streaming down my back. With gentle, soapy hands, he strokes me until my knees start to buckle and I have to place my hands on his broad shoulders to hold myself up. It’s then that he turns me away from him, easing me down until I’m full of him.

  With one hand in my hair, turning my head so he can take my mouth with his, and his other hand gently kneading my swollen breast, he moves in and out of me. I’ll never get enough of him, the gentle command he has over my body. I ignore the water streaming down my face and over our mouths as we kiss.

  His hand moves from my breast to between my legs, stroking me until I gasp his name against his mouth. It’s as if his name from my lips unleashed the power he sought to restrain. He bucks beneath me, both hands now vise grips to my hips as he pulls me downward to meet each upward stroke. My hands cover his as I hold on. Moments later, he groans his release, his arms lifting to wrap around my chest and hold me close as he catches his breath.