Chapter Nine
Legs still feeling rubbery, Mark took the chair in the little cubicle, setting Liam’s car seat in front of him, while Isaiah sat on the exam table, Daphne on his lap. It was more than a little crowded, but if Daphne wanted them both there, then both of them she would have. He couldn’t believe she’d gotten hurt on his watch. He’d been sitting there, talking nonsense at Liam, soaking up the sun, and then bam! She’d fallen before he could even call out a warning. And he’d freaked.
Freezing like that had never once happened to him in the field, but somehow seeing that tiny body—that he was responsible for—hurt had been more than his nervous system could handle. Fuck. What if it had been an even more serious emergency? Precious seconds had passed before he’d remembered his training, assessed the situation. He’d let Isaiah down. Hell, he’d let himself down.
As if sensing the direction of his thoughts, Isaiah said, “Don’t beat yourself up too hard. It was an accident.”
“I should have reacted better,” Mark admitted.
“We were a good team.” Isaiah nodded at Daphne. “Right, Daph? Me and Uncle Mark make a good team.”
“Yup.” She hiccupped. “I don’t wanna get sewed on.”
“They’ll numb you up—make it so you can’t feel it. And then after, like Isaiah said, you can have a big ice cream.” Mark would have promised her a pony at that point if it meant no more tears.
A nurse came in, a guy who was far nicer than the desk clerk, and he did the vital signs, looked at the wound, and said the doctor would be in shortly. The doctor turned out to be an older woman with ash blond hair and a no-nonsense demeanor who quickly agreed with the need for sutures.
“But we’re a bit crowded in here. Any way you can take the younger two out?” she asked Mark. “I’m also thinking you don’t need to watch.”
“What? Me? I’m a medic. I’ve seen far worse,” he blustered.
“Exactly.” She laughed. “You’re looking rather green around the gills. And don’t feel bad. When my son broke his arm, I was terrible. Let your partner hold her while I work, and then we’ll get her back to you, good as new.”
It was the second time today that he and Isaiah’d been mistaken for a couple, but he was too wrung out to correct her. Besides it sort of fit. They were partners in this thing. No way could he have handled the emergency on his own, and that was rather sobering.
“We’re not a couple.” Isaiah set her straight for him, same easy grace he’d had with the women at the park. “But, yeah, I agree. Daph, Uncle Mark’s going to take the babies out while the doctor works, and I want you thinking about what flavor ice cream you’re getting.”
Reluctantly, Mark gathered up Zoe and Liam and went to pace the halls, making a big loop with the kids because no way could he stay still right then. When he made it back, Daphne was all stitched up, sutures every bit as neat as the ones Mark could have done, and Isaiah was talking with a new woman, one who looked a bit like his Aunt Louise with graying hair and a substantial figure.
“Oh there you are.” Isaiah sounded weary. “This is Evelyn, the hospital social worker. I’m trying to explain our situation to her.”
“I live with Uncle Mark and Uncle Ikey since Mommy and Daddy are in heaven.” Daphne sounded every bit as exasperated as Isaiah, like the adults in the room were just silly for not figuring it out.
But Evelyn had a bunch of questions for him, needing his ID, and Mark ended up pulling up the obituary from the local paper on his phone. He needed something far better than that. Evelyn kept calling him the next of kin. This is what Danielle wanted. He needed to protect the kids, make sure if there was another emergency they’d be covered. When he got the phone back, he made a note to call the lawyer his uncle had found. Isaiah was right that they’d made a good team, and Mark certainly wasn’t discounting his help, but he needed to put the best interests of the kids first.
Finally Evelyn decided she had enough information to allow them to leave with the kids.
“I think I’m going to be sick,” Isaiah said as soon as she left the cubicle to tell the nurse they were ready for their discharge papers. He was visibly trembling. “I really thought she might call Child Protective Services on us. Take the kids.”
“I’m not going to let that happen,” Mark said firmly. This was another reason Mark needed the lawyer. He couldn’t let Isaiah be separated from the kids. He needed to protect all of them. Mark shifted Zoe to his hip so that he could awkwardly pat Isaiah’s shoulder. He wasn’t as good at the touchy stuff as Isaiah was, but it seemed to be what he needed right now, as he gave a grateful sigh and sank into the touch. And then, because he figured Isaiah needed to hear it, he added, “You did good. Getting control of the situation, getting us here. I know SEALs who couldn’t have handled things as well as you did.”
“Like you?” Isaiah gave him a cheeky grin, getting back to his usual teasing ways.
“Like me. And I think we all deserve an ice cream now.”
“Yay!” Zoe and Daphne said in unison. The nurse came in and went over discharge instructions with them, and then finally they were free to go.
Isaiah headed right for the frozen yogurt place on Orange Avenue. Helping the kids go nuts with toppings was...well, nothing about this night was exactly fun. But it was nice, getting back to what passed for normal these days, Daphne smiling again, Isaiah spooning a little plain vanilla for the baby. However, Mark’s brain seemed to fixate on Isaiah’s mouth while he ate—watching the way he licked the spoon, the way his lips moved, the way he smiled after each bite...
“What?” Isaiah raised an eyebrow at him. “I got some on my face?”
“No, you’re fine.” Mark looked away fast. He wasn’t sure what was happening to him. Maybe just stress. Stress was the reason he was suddenly desperate to know what ice cream would taste like on Isaiah’s full lips. That was all. Like post-mission adrenaline drop. He’d be back to normal soon enough. No more rogue impulses.
* * *
“I think I love them most when they’re sleeping.” Isaiah laughed softly as he followed Mark out of the girls’ room. Poor exhausted pumpkins, they’d gone to bed with minimal complaints but had wanted both him and Mark to do the story and tuck-in. Mark was surprisingly good at stories—did different voices for the characters and really threw himself into it, making the girls laugh and laugh.
“Three down. Is it bad if I say I really need a beer?” Mark groaned. Liam had fallen asleep in the car, and Mark, in another shocker, had been the one to manage the car seat to crib transfer, showing that Isaiah wasn’t the only one capable of that trick.
“I’m in.” Grabbing the baby monitor, Isaiah followed him back to the kitchen. After removing the top, Mark handed him a beer from the fridge.
“Try again for steak tomorrow?” Mark asked, gesturing at the untouched food in the fridge.
“Definitely. Right now though I’m gonna go collapse on the couch.” Isaiah headed for the family room, flopping onto the couch in an undignified heap, narrowly avoiding spilling his beer. He tossed the baby monitor on the floor with a fast prayer that Liam would sleep through the night. And the girls. Isaiah wasn’t sure that they’d stay asleep though—both girls had been having bad dreams ever since their parents’ accident, and the stress of the day would undoubtedly affect them both even more.
“Man, that was a day.”
“I’m sorry.” Mark took a seat next to him, not at the other end of the couch like Isaiah would have expected. He picked at his beer’s label. “For today. I should have watched them better. Shouldn’t have freaked out. I’m a fucking medic and I couldn’t do jack shit.”
“Mark.” Isaiah lifted his head enough to look Mark in the eyes. “I know they call you Wizard, but you’re still human. And kids are different than big SEALs. It’s okay that you got scared—”
“I don’t do scared.” Mark th
umped the couch with his free hand. “I should have been able to control the situation. Shouldn’t have needed to lean so heavily on you. Should have had my kit. And kept my head about me.”
“Kit or no kit, you weren’t putting in sutures yourself.” Isaiah laughed. “Even the doctor said she couldn’t treat her kid. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
“I still could have acted better.” Stubborn as always, Mark’s jaw jutted out.
“And as for needing me, that’s what I’m here for.” If Mark was going to sit so close, Isaiah was totally going to use his knee as a pillow, avoid getting a pinched nerve in his neck. And happily, Mark didn’t object. His jeans-covered leg was warm under Isaiah’s head, and Isaiah had to work to find his train of thought. “Seriously. I meant what I said in front of the girls—we’re a good team. I’m not too proud to admit I needed the extra set of hands tonight.”
“Were you really worried about the social worker?” Mark stared down at him like part of him couldn’t believe Isaiah’s audacity at using him as a headrest. But he wasn’t pushing Isaiah away, so win.
“Yeah.” Isaiah wasn’t getting over the terror anytime soon. His arm ached, an old wound that wasn’t going away any time soon, but he wasn’t telling Mark about that.
“I would have had a lawyer there fast.” Mark’s hand came to rest on Isaiah’s hair. “I wouldn’t let them take the kids.”
“Thanks.” Isaiah was still a bit salty at how the social worker had calmed way the fuck down after Mark reappeared with the other kids. Calling him “next of kin” like Isaiah was an old shoe. And the military ID and take-charge attitude probably hadn’t hurt either. When he wasn’t doing the nervous dad freak-out, Mark had a way of filling up a room, where even the way he stood was impressive. He could get people to listen to him, something Isaiah had often struggled with. Shit wasn’t fair, but Mark’s hand in his hair felt too damn good to dwell on injustices right now.
“I like your hair grown out like this,” Mark said absently, fingers continuing to sift. “You used to wear it shorter.”
“So did you.” Isaiah laughed. Damn. This was nice. Lying here like this, Mark touching him like this, made his stomach all warm and tingly. “Just lazy really. Same deal with the face fuzz. Half the time I just can’t be bothered to shave.”
“You’d like being out on missions. We can go weeks and weeks without the water to shave.” Mark groaned low, settling more into the couch, head falling back. “And damn, I swear I’m so much more together out in the field. I’ve sutured in the pouring rain before. Awful conditions.”
They weren’t exactly cuddling, but they also weren’t not. And after the past two weeks Isaiah had had, he needed this kind of contact far more than the beer he’d ended up setting on the floor.
“I believe you.” Isaiah followed Mark’s lead and got more comfortable, head coming to more fully rest on Mark’s thigh. “Did you always want to be a medic? I mean you could have gone into investment banking like Cal or venture capital like your dad. Why go SEALs?”
“Funny story.” Mark moved his hand to trace Isaiah’s neck and shoulders. Not quite a massage, but damn distracting. “I wasn’t much older than Daphne. Seven or eight maybe. And I was biking over near the beach. Got up this tremendous head of steam, faster than I’d ever gone before, and then I wiped out. Spectacular crash. Blood everywhere. The nanny freaked out even worse than I did with Daph.”
“I bet.” Isaiah laughed and arched into Mark’s touch, trying to chase more of it.
“And these guys were out for a jog on the beach. SEALs. They saw the whole thing, and they came racing over. And the biggest, baddest one, says, ‘Don’t worry. I’m a medic.’ And he got a kit out of his souped-up red truck and patched me right up. And that’s when I knew. I wanted to be that guy.”
“One crash? That’s all it took?”
“After that day, I’d see the SEALs around the island, and I always just knew, deep inside that I was meant to be one of them.”
“Damn.” Isaiah envied that kind of certainty. “I never got that feeling.” Well, other than the swift, sure knowledge he’d had at eighteen that Mark was the one, and he’d been spectacularly wrong about that. “Dad always talked about me going to college like it would be this mystical experience, and I’d figure out my future freshman year, but that’s not how it happened.”
“Tell me about this latest thing.” Mark’s fingers danced over Isaiah’s cheekbones and he was staring at Isaiah’s mouth again. “The horticulture certificate? You got a passion for that?”
I’ve got a passion for you, Isaiah almost said, but he didn’t want to break the spell that seemed to have descended on them.
“Yeah,” he said instead, voice hoarser than he could remember. “I do. Growing things is just...real. Tangible. Satisfying.”
“Good.” Mark nodded. “Mom used to garden some. But then Dad made her hire it out.”
“That’s sad. If I had this property, I’d be growing all the things. Vegetables. Ornamentals. No offense, man, but the grounds are in pretty sorry shape considering the value of the house.”
“You wanna have a crack at it?” Mark had moved on to tracing Isaiah’s ears with his thumb. “Get me a list of what you need, but have at it. If I’m going to have to sell, we might as well make it look better.”
“Dude. It’s a big old beach house on Coronado. It’ll sell. But yeah, I’d love getting my hands dirty again. I can do it while the girls are at school, maybe.” Eventually he was going to have to work out employment compatible with having the kids, but things were still too new and they needed him too much. He could live on his savings a while longer.
“I’ll help. Make things safer.”
“It’s a date,” Isaiah said without thinking, then started laughing. “But no ‘putting out the trash’ after. Promise.”
To his surprise, Mark didn’t laugh. Instead, he looked thoughtful. “What if I asked you to?” he said softly.
“To put out?” Isaiah’s throat had never seemed drier.
“We’re sitting here. Talking. Like adults. Just a couple of guys. And I can’t quit thinking about your lips, and I don’t know why.” Mark’s voice had a sleepy, dreamlike quality to it, and Isaiah was fully prepared to wake up any second because he’d been dreaming about Mark saying shit like this for years.
“I do.” Moving slowly as to not bang heads or—more likely—spook Mark, Isaiah moved so that their faces were level, inches apart. “You want to kiss me.”
Chapter Ten
“You want to kiss me,” Isaiah said again. “So you should.”
His face was right there, waiting, body no longer the reassuring weight on Mark’s lap. He seriously could have kept touching Isaiah all night. He’d never wanted to explore another person the way he did Isaiah.
You want to so you should. Isaiah made it sound so simple.
“Unless you’re chicken?” Isaiah grinned at him, unrepentant, and Mark flashed to the last time Isaiah had dared him like this, the last time he wanted to find out what Isaiah tasted like. He’d wanted to kiss Isaiah so badly that night that it had hurt. But Isaiah had been eighteen and he’d been himself and just...yeah.
But now the want was back and his heart was beating so hard Isaiah had to be able to hear it.
“I’m not chicken.” As if in a trance, Mark reached out, traced Isaiah’s generous mouth with his thumb. Soft. So soft. His tongue came out, licked at the pad of Mark’s thumb, making him hiss in a breath. Apparently Isaiah liked that reaction because his lips curved up into a hint of a smile and he used his teeth next, grazing Mark’s callused skin.
Fuck. A burning hot sizzle raced up his spine.
Isaiah’s tongue attacked his palm next, little flicks that were the single most erotic experience of Mark’s life. His breath came in harsh little pants. Dipping his head, Isaiah trailed his mouth along Mark’s
bare arm, hitting nerve endings he’d never seen in his anatomy texts. His wrist. His inner elbow. Dipping under the edge of his T-shirt. Moving to his neck, licking a determined path to his jaw.
“Kiss me,” Isaiah whispered, lips against his cheek. He could have closed the gap himself rather easily, but he was waiting on Mark, giving him just enough space to pull away. And somehow that hesitation, that consideration was what undid Mark, made him lean in.
Isaiah was going to tempt and dare and tease but he wasn’t going to take. No, that had to be up to Mark. And fuck, Mark couldn’t bear pulling away, not ever knowing what those lips felt like against his own. So he slid his mouth over, cautiously finding Isaiah’s. It was the most glancing of contact but he felt it all the way to his toes.
He’d been kissed before, but usually the other person took over by this point. Not Isaiah. He seemed content to let Mark get his bearings, decide how much pressure felt good, move his mouth this way and that, experimenting. Mark felt like he’d been waiting years to nip at that full lower lip, so he followed that impulse, which made Isaiah groan low. His hand came to rest on Mark’s shoulder, not yanking him closer, just a steady pressure. Another point of connection.
Mark repeated the motion, more aggressive this pass, sucking on Isaiah’s lip. He used his tongue to trace its contours, moving to lick at the seam, his turn to tease. Isaiah whimpered and trembled, and then it was Mark doing the pulling, making their torsos collide. Mouth opening on a groan, Isaiah wordlessly invited him to take more. This was the part that Mark hadn’t always liked in the past, but his tongue rushed ahead, eager to continue exploring.
And it was good. Electric even, the feeling of his tongue against Isaiah’s. Not completely passive, Isaiah sucked lightly at him, meeting his quest with his own. He tasted like beer and something sweet, something uniquely Isaiah that made him need more and more. Leaning in, he tried to meet that unexpected demand.
Squared Away Page 9
