Page 100 of All The Things: The Last Thing He Needs Omnibus

Tommy couldn’t argue with that. He felt the same way, after all.

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Chapter from the upcoming sequel to The Last Thing He Needs, available sometime in 2025. Or 2026. Possibly never. I’m still me, after all.

Bobby

Bobby opened one eye to find Tom sitting on the edge of the bed with a letter in his hand.

“Troubles?” he asked, a playful note in his voice, but given the tension in Tom’s shoulders, maybe that was a bad idea.

With a glance to Bobby, Tom said, “Just… my fucking father.”

Because of course. Things were going too well lately. Bobby should’ve guessed. He sat up and scooted closer to Tom, ran a hand down his back. “He in jail? Or just fell off the wagon?”

“Neither,” Tom said darkly. And Bobby was sure Cal must be dead. He could only guess at how Tom—not to mention the kids—would react to that.

“When did it happen?”

He shifted to look at Bobby better, brow furrowed. “When did what happen?”

“I…”

“Ha, he ain’t dead. I’m not that lucky.”

Bobby scrubbed a hand over his face to wake up. “Then what’d he do this time?”

“He wants to have dinner with the kids. At his place.”

“Why do you look like that, then?”

Tom stood and paced around, his boxers hanging off his hips. “I don’t even like him coming here for visits. Why the hell would I want the kids over there? In his space. In his mess.”

“Tom,” Bobby said calmly. “How do you know his place is a mess?”

“Because he’s a mess. Have you met him?”

More times than he’d like to think of, if Bobby were being honest. He wasn’t a fan of Cal’s. Hell, Bobby would like to see him dead, just for the shit he’d put Tom through, let alone the rest of his kids. But if he were really pressed, he’d have to admit that Cal had done—was still doing—everything in his power to be a better man, a better father. Even if that ship had long sailed. “I’ve met him. He’s not my favorite person, but he’s trying, Tom.”

That was a mistake, and Bobby knew it before the words were out of his mouth.

“Trying? Fuck that. He shoulda tried a long damn time ago, Bobby.”

“I know.” Because there was no arguing with that statement. “What’s with the letter?” Bobby asked, pointing to the paper Tom had crumpled up.

“Oh, just the schedule for down at the bar. I fucked it up, gotta start over.”

“The schedule made you think of your father’s dinner invitation?”

“What? No, he texted while I was looking at it.”

“Why is it on paper?”

“Helps me to see it printed out. Why all the questions?”

Bobby didn’t even know anymore. “Coffee ready?”

“And breakfast. You’re gonna be late if you don’t get up.”

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