“Well at least get a good nanny.” He clapped Mark on the shoulder right as Isaiah walked over with the baby still strapped into his bucket car seat.
“We don’t need a nanny. Not yet at least. The kids have been through enough changes.” Isaiah glared at them both. His ferocity on behalf of the kids really was admirable. “Are you ready to go? We’ve got to pick the girls up at preschool—it’s only a half-day program.”
“Yeah.” Mark said the last of his goodbyes and followed Isaiah out of the office where they walked at a more normal clip back to the car.
“I’m driving.” Isaiah held out his hand for the keys, which Mark reluctantly tossed over. It was Isaiah’s car after all.
“I’m going to need something better for kids, I guess,” Mark mused as Isaiah got the kid clicked into the car seat base before sliding into the driver’s seat. Neither his dad’s BMW nor his own Camaro were exactly kid friendly.
“This will work fine,” Isaiah said, stubborn tilt to his chin. “Look. I know you’re thinking that you’ve got to do the right thing here or something, but I’ve got this.”
“Yeah, but for how long?” Mark asked as Isaiah left the parking garage and headed back toward the bridge.
“Longer than you. Mark, you’re a f—freaking SEAL. You’ll probably be deployed again before the guardianship hearing even.”
“I’m going to base later today. Gotta work out some leave.” Mark all but growled the words because Isaiah was right—his job was going to be an issue, no two ways about it. He’d been granted emergency bereavement leave but that wasn’t indefinite.
“Great.” Isaiah sounded like that news was anything but. “You’re still going to need me. Maybe you haven’t realized that yet, but you need me.”
Oh hell no. Mark didn’t need anyone, had made it his habit not to need people. And he was fast coming to need Isaiah, which was risky and foolish. People let you down. Always. His parents. Dani. Even friends. People weren’t there when they said they would be. People moved on, left, or fucking died.
“I’ll manage,” he said firmly. “And we’re supposed to share—”
“Exactly. That means you treating me like an adult.”
The baby started squalling in the back seat before Mark could figure out a retort. In his head, Isaiah was still eighteen, fresh-faced and full of innocent energy and reckless abandon. The man he’d been around the past few days was still new. Different. And Mark didn’t know what to make of him.
“Okay, Liam. We get it. No more arguing,” Isaiah said, far gentler now. He flipped on the radio. “Baby likes my music.”
“The oldies station is your music?” Mark had to laugh as a classic movie theme from the eighties came on. He totally would have pegged Isaiah for hip-hop or rap like so many of Mark’s buddies or maybe club music since Isaiah seemed to enjoy going out so much.
“Hey now. Aunt Cecily liked taking us for long drives and this is her music. You don’t go insulting Aunt Cecily’s taste, man.”
“She used to drive?”
“Yeah, her vision started going about eight years ago or so, much worse in the last four or five. Early onset macular degeneration. She’s still got a little peripheral vision but not much. She moved in with Aunt Louise and Grandma about two years ago when it became hard for her to live on her own, and with my dad gone so much, it was the best solution for her.”
“That sucks.” Mark had worked with some military personnel with vision loss, and he couldn’t imagine how hard it would be to lose something so vital.
“Eh. She manages.” Isaiah gave a little shrug. “She’d smack you for feeling sorry for her, that’s for sure. And honestly, I’m most worried about her losing Cal. It’s gonna be rough on her.”
“All of you really.” In his own haze of grief, Mark had lost sight of the fact that Isaiah and his family had suffered too. Isaiah had to be grieving, hard. And yet he’d still been able to pull it together for the kids, do most of the work that had to be done. That had to change. “I’m going to help more,” Mark resolved.
Isaiah’s mouth moved like he was going to protest, but he took a deep breath instead. “Thanks. I better get the girls now.”
He sounded skeptical, but there wasn’t time to convince him. They’d arrived at the preschool so Mark waited in the car with Liam while Isaiah ran in. While he was in there, Mark made some calls, set up meetings for that afternoon to deal with his leave questions. And he’d need to get permission to reside off base. Bunch of administrative hoops to jump through, none of which he was looking forward to.
Back at the house, the girls were chattering about school while Isaiah made lunch and Mark changed into a fresh uniform for going to base.
“I’ll help tonight,” Mark promised on his way out.
“Yeah?” Isaiah raised an eyebrow. “You gonna reheat tonight’s casserole or should I ready Diaper Changing 101 for you?”
“Both.” Mark meant what he’d said in the car. He was going to start doing his part.
Once at base, his attention shifted from Isaiah to all the administrative headaches waiting for him. His immediate command was still deployed, but the complicated command structure of his team and the larger platoon it was part of meant that there were still plenty of paper pushers and higher ups able to send him from one place to another doing the paperwork. He’d never been one for taking much leave, so he had plenty accrued, but it was more a question of whether they’d approve him taking it all at once like this. He wasn’t sure what he’d do if they said they needed to ship him back to his team ASAP.
“Wizard!” called Apollo Flores, a lieutenant Mark knew in passing, the husband of Isaiah’s friend Dylan. He was accompanied by two other people, one of whom was the senior chief Mark had been waiting to see about his leave request. “Just the guy we were looking for.”
“Sir.” Mark nodded at each in turn.
“I got your voice mail about meeting about leave, but before I could get approval on your paperwork, Lieutenant Flores and Lieutenant Ramsey called with a proposition.”
“We’ve talked to your LT before about getting you for a rotation as a SEAL instructor for BUD/S, but he’s always been reluctant to part with you. Said you weren’t interested.” Lieutenant Ramsey was a tall woman with short dark hair and a long nose.
“I wasn’t.” This had come up a few times since Mark made chief—the navy liked the older SEALs to take rotations training the new guys. He’d been hit up for a stint out at Fort Bragg where SEAL medics went for twenty-six-week-long SOCM training sessions after completing SEAL training at Coronado. In Mark’s opinion the combat medic course was far more challenging than even Hell Week at BUD/S. So far he’d avoided the training detail by getting the LT to say that he was mission critical.
“We’ve got a new class of BUD/S starting next month, and we’ve had an instructor just pull out on medical leave. Given your family situation, we thought you might be interested.” Flores nodded encouragingly at him, and Mark had a strong feeling that his husband had played a role in getting his sympathies involved here. They’d both been at the funeral.
“I might be.” Things had changed now, and Mark had to figure out a way to stay local for the kids, at least short-term.
“So you could take only a couple weeks of leave, join us for instructor training, then start with the instructor position and stick with them for a few months. Give you time to sort out your family stuff before you rejoin your team.” Ramsey had a commanding voice, one that made Mark stand up a little straighter.
“That’s going to be a lot easier to get approved than a couple months’ leave,” the senior chief added. “Your LT’s pushing hard to get you back, but he understands your situation, and that we have to fill the instructor slot.”
“We’d be honored to have you join the training staff,” Lieutenant Ramsey continued. “I’ve assembled a first-rate tea
m for this class and we’ve got several hospital corpsmen who’re hoping to go to SOCM after they get their tridents. You’d be an excellent mentor.”
Mark wasn’t so sure, but given the alternative of heading back on deployment with everything with the kids still up in the air, he wasn’t going to say no. “I can try.”
“Good.” She nodded at him. “And you have the sympathies of the whole base, Chief Whitley. You let me know if there’s anything we can help you arrange. We’re pleased to have you on board.”
“We’ll get right on your paperwork.” Obvious relief tinged the senior chief’s voice. He was a good guy and probably had been fretting about denying Mark’s request for extended leave. If this was the best compromise Mark could get, he’d take it.
Right on it turned out to be a few hours of forms. The senior chief also helped him get his off-base housing request pushed through so that he had permission to live at the house with Isaiah and the kids rather than the barracks while doing the instructor position. Finally, he went to the barracks, packed up more of his stuff, filling the car with Bacon’s help.
Thus, it was much later than he’d intended when he rolled back into the driveway at the house. Past dinner. Fuck. And he’d promised to help. He was falling down on the job already. Cursing himself, he entered through the side door, surprised by how quiet everything was. Were they in bed already?
A quick investigation revealed the truth—they were all in the family room, on the oversized sectional. A kids’ movie was playing softly on the TV, and Isaiah was passed out on the chaise part of the sectional, Liam asleep on his chest, girls sleeping cuddled up on either side of him, the blankets they were seldom without wrapped around them. Half a bowl of popcorn sat on the floor.
That seldom-used place in Mark’s chest pinged again, a deep ache that resonated through his whole torso. This was why he’d accepted the instructor position without much fuss. He couldn’t let it all fall to Isaiah. They’re mine now. Like it or not, these were his kids now, and it was time to start acting like it.
* * *
“Here you go, princess.”
Isaiah came awake slow, vaguely aware of Mark’s voice and presence in the room. But sleep felt so damn good that it took a bit of effort to fully wake up. He opened his eyes to find Mark, still in his uniform, carrying a sleeping Zoe and her blanket. And day-um that was a sweet sight.
“Hey. I was going to get her to her bed,” Isaiah protested softly, careful to not wake Liam from his place on his chest. Bedtime for all three had been a battle and a half, and Isaiah had finally just declared a movie night in pajamas for everyone. As he’d predicted, the overtired girls had fallen asleep ten minutes in, but he really hadn’t expected himself and Liam to join the snooze fest.
“I’ve got it. Already did Daphne.” Mark sounded a little proud of himself, which was cute. And understandable. Isaiah usually felt like doing a victory dance too when he managed to successfully transfer a sleeping kid.
“Okay, let’s see if I can make it three for three.” Cradling Liam close, he followed Mark upstairs, watching as Mark deposited Zoe and her blanket on her toddler bed, pulling the blanket close around her. He bent and gave her an awkward kiss on the top of her curls. It must have been dusty in the room because Isaiah’s eyes were burning again.
Desperate to not lose his shit again, he hurried to Liam’s room, where he did the arm-to-crib transfer with minimal fuss.
“Good work,” Mark whispered from the door as Isaiah checked to make sure the baby monitor was on.
“You hungry? Saved you some mystery casserole. This one wasn’t too bad—lots of cheese and salsa and some sort of meat.”
“I was going to help.” Mark sighed as they headed back downstairs. “I really was. Stuff at base took forever though.”
“Did you get it handled?” Isaiah got the foil-covered casserole out of the fridge and dished Mark up a SEAL-sized portion.
“Sort of.” Mark made a face. “I’ve got a couple of weeks leave, then I’m going to be doing a SEAL instructor stint while I figure out a long-term plan.”
“Me.” Isaiah hit the microwave buttons harder than he needed to. “I’m the long-term plan. Can’t wait for you to realize that.”
“You’re twenty-four—”
“And you’re what? All of twenty-eight? Twenty-nine now? Seriously elderly man.”
“Last I knew you were way more into partying at Hillcrest bars rather than doing diaper duty.”
“Well, maybe you didn’t pay attention close enough.” Isaiah refused to feel hurt that Mark didn’t really know him, didn’t know anything about him, who he really was. Other than those few days before the wedding, he’d never made any effort to get to know Isaiah. And that sucked. But Isaiah was not going to go all wounded deer about it. “Sure, I love my friends, but I’ve been all about this family. Far more than you. Just because I like to kick it with my crowd some doesn’t mean I’ll be a crap parent.”
“The kids need stability. Not someone with a new boyfriend every five minutes. So yeah, ‘kicking it’ isn’t the best—”
“Just say what you mean.” The microwave dinged and Isaiah all but threw the plate at Mark. “You’re still pissed that I slept with your friend Ben. He’s all married now and it really didn’t mean anything, but you haven’t been able to let that go.”
It wasn’t like Isaiah and Mark had ever been a thing, hadn’t ever really been more than acquaintances, but there was no denying that their interactions had gotten decidedly frostier after word had somehow gotten back to Mark about Ben. And if Isaiah had to guess, he bet it had more to do with Mark’s being protective of his teammates than any sort of romantic jealousy.
“You had to know I’d hear about Tovey.” Mark stabbed his casserole.
“Actually no. I didn’t know before we hooked up. It was just a casual thing.” Isaiah didn’t really do regrets, but he honestly hadn’t known that Ben was a teammate of Mark’s until well after their one hookup. He probably wouldn’t have gone for him had he known, but it was through Ben that he’d met Dylan, who was one of the best friends he’d ever had. So no, he wasn’t sorry he’d slept with Ben, but he didn’t exactly make a habit of poaching guys on Mark’s team or social circle.
And now Ben had gone from swinging single to the most devoted married guy Isaiah knew, all about his husband, and if Isaiah had any pangs for what might have been, they’d subsided in the face of that bliss. He didn’t want Ben. He wanted what Ben had. Had wanted that for years now, but for whatever reason he seemed to be the backup guy, the hookup, the temporary boyfriend. Nothing stuck, but it wasn’t from a lack of dreaming on his part.
“It’s always just a casual thing with you.” Mark rubbed salt in that wound. “And that’s what I’m saying. You’re great with the kids and they love you. But I’m not convinced you’re here for the long haul.”
“You’re wrong.” Isaiah had cleared out the liquor cabinet in a white-hot rage after the accident, but damn, he could seriously use a drink right now. Mark’s lack of faith did hurt, making his sternum feel like it had taken ten punches, despite all his efforts to not let the words sting. “And I’m going to show you. Besides, who are you to lecture me about not being around? I’m not the one who skipped family stuff for years because of one awkward encounter.”
“You think I stayed away because of what happened at the wedding?” Mark paused, fork dangling in the air. His eyes were bulging, like this was seriously news to him. His level of denial would be adorable if it wasn’t so infuriating.
“You telling me it’s not? You discovered you’re maybe a little more heteroflexible than your macho self would like, didn’t like me knowing about your crush on Cal, didn’t like me hitting on you, didn’t like how tempted you were to say yes. Because I know you were. And so, yeah, I think you let your dislike of me keep you away.”
“Is heteroflexible ev
en a thing?” Mark pushed his half-eaten food away. “I told you then, and I’ll tell you again. There was nothing between Cal and me. I just... I dunno...liked him a lot when I first met him. But that faded over time. He was...complicated.”
“If your dick was involved in the liking, that’s called a crush.” Isaiah laughed because maybe Mark just was this clueless. “And for what it’s worth, I never told him. Never once even joked about it. I told you I wouldn’t tell, and I keep my word. And yeah, Cal was complicated. I hear you on that.”
“Not everything comes down to a dick joke.” Mark shook his head before turning away to load the dishwasher.
“Well for the record, I really don’t think Cal or Dani would have cared that you’re...whatever you choose to label yourself. They were always great toward me about my sexuality. Dani might have even found your...like of Cal funny.”
“Because a joke is exactly what I want to be.” Rattling plates, Mark slammed the full dishwasher shut. “Just drop it. Not everything’s about you. As long as you’re not fucking my friends in this house, I don’t really care what you do with your dick. But stop trying to psychoanalyze me.”
“Gladly.” Isaiah grabbed a sponge, swiping at the counter to resist the urge to hurl it at Mark.
“Let’s keep our focus on the kids. Not the past.” Pompous asshole Mark was back, tone cold and miles removed from the guy who’d tenderly put the kids to bed.
“If you’re worried that I’m still crushing on you, trust me, that ship sailed years ago.” Isaiah let every ounce of his disgust seep into his tone.
“Good.” Mark, the fucker, got the last word, stalking from the kitchen. Fuck. No way was Isaiah ever going to let his feelings get tangled up with that mess again.
Chapter Eight
The coffee was waiting for Mark Saturday morning, same as it had been all week. Terrible as always, but Mark was reluctant to tell Isaiah anything after their argument the other night. And he’d noticed Isaiah didn’t actually drink the coffee he made, which meant he was doing it just for Mark. Which was nice. And Mark didn’t need nice, so bringing it up...
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