Page 20 of Crossed Up

My heart swells with renewed attraction when I see the look of adoration Lyla holds for my son, and I know without a doubt that when it comes to her, I’m screwed six ways to Sunday.

My heavy duffel bag drops to the wood floor with a thud, and my shoulders sag in relief. The awe and gratitude I feel coming home to this house hasn’t worn off in the three years we’ve lived here, and I’m not sure it ever will.

If anything, it might be even more since Lyla moved in and made our lives so much brighter. The smell of coffee permeates the early-morning air, making me groan. I’m so damn tired, and I still have a full day of work to do at the stadium.

Following the aroma of the freshly-made Holy water, I stalk into the kitchen and pour myself a massive cup before making my way outside to the back porch.

Lyla sits in her new favorite spot, tucked into the corner of the large porch swing. A surprised smile lights up her sleepy face when I emerge through the sliding-glass doors.

“Aidan! I didn’t know you’d be home so early. Come, sit!” She pats the cushion next to her.

I sink down with a moan, dragging a hand down my face. “I’m only here to drop off my bag and get my caffeine fix, unfortunately. Someone thought it would be a great idea to schedule a full day of press today, so I’m due back at the stadium in an hour.”

“Oh.” Her face falls. “So you won’t get to see Crew until tonight?”

My heart drops, and I shake my head. “Don’t get me wrong. I love playing ball, and I know I’m so privileged to live the life I do, but sometimes the schedule really grates on me. I miss my boy, and I feel like a half-assed father being away from him so often.”

Lyla’s soft hand slips into mine and squeezes tightly, surprising me. I don’t move an inch, too afraid she’ll let go. “Aid,” she huffs. “No offense, but that’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

I turn to her, my brows raised in surprise.

She rolls her eyes, an exasperated smile tipping her lips. “Crew worships you. To him, you’re super dad who can do no wrong. Sure, he misses you, but he also thinks you’re the coolest person ever because baseball is what you’re paid to do every day.”

Something in my chest settles with her reassurance. I still feel like I need to apologize to Crew, but knowing Lyla doesn’t think less of me for being gone so much lifts a burden I’ve been struggling with for a long time.

Taking a chance, I lace our fingers together and scrunch down to lean my head on her shoulder. A quiet intake of breath is her only response, but she doesn’t stiffen or move away.

“Thanks, Ly.”

Her body melts into mine, and for the next half hour we drink our coffee in silence, simply enjoying the feeling of not being alone.

Happy giggles and the smell of sugar and chocolate emanating from the kitchen catch my attention and pull an exhausted smile to my face.

I can tell they were busy while I was gone because the house is spotless, save for the enormous blanket fort currently engulfing my cream-colored couch.

“I was gonna take it down before you got home, I swear! But Crew begged me to keep it up, and he just loves it so much that I figured maybe a few more days living with the mess wouldn’t hurt.”

I know before I even turn around that Lyla is wringing her hands together in a panic, and I’m not wrong. I turn to face her only to see her eyes wide and glistening with unshed tears. She stands in the entry to the room, her pale arms crossed over her cherry-print apron.

I give her a soft smile to show her I’m not angry, doing what I can to disguise the way my entire body tenses when I see the fear radiating from her in near-tangible waves.

She had been doing so well overcoming her fear around me, but it seems like the idea of leaving the house messy might be a trigger for her. I fucking hate that thought. Kids are messy, and I don’t expect her to constantly keep the house spotless.

Glancing over the fort again, I inspect it thoroughly before turning back to her with my hands out in a placating manner. “Lyla, I promise I don’t care about the mess. If it makes him happy, leave it up as long as he wants.” I look over just in time to see her shoulders drop in relief. “Plus, I’m kind of impressed with the structural integrity you managed to pull off only using sheets and clothes pins.”

The panic in her eyes fades, and she shakes her head with a small smile at my attempt at levity.

“Lyly! I got some dough on the fridge!” Crew’s voice rings out from the kitchen, making me snort. Of course he did.

I follow a now much-calmer Lyla to the kitchen and come face to face with an absolute disaster. My eyes don’t know where to look first, but my kid is standing on a stool at the island, and the second I catch sight of him, I break out into raucous laughter.

Crew is covered head to toe in flour, and his lips and the tips of his fingers are stained bright red. I bite my fist to calm the laughter and hear sweet giggling at my side.

When his big blue eyes finally land on me, he gasps and nearly face-plants in his haste to get down, making me lurch forward in a panic. Dropping to my knees, I let him barrel into me and take the opportunity to squeeze him as hard as I safely can. I was only gone for three days, but with every fresh inhale of his watermelon shampoo, the bridge of my nose burns hotter with impending tears.

A quiet sniffle reminds me we have an audience, but the shame that would usually come from openly showing emotion like this in front of anybody but Crew is suspiciously absent in the presence of the angel standing behind us. Placing my hands on the shoulders currently digging into my ribcage, I push him back with a hum of amusement to assess the damage.

“Raptor, did any of the dough actually make it into the oven?”