Page 65 of Kylan

The perfect daddies.

I had so much to process. So much to take in and so many questions to ask.

So much to learn.

But for now, all I wanted to do was sleep. Be cradled by these two men who loved me. Let myself be loved.

And, if I could ever be brave enough, love them as much in return.

TEN

MAREK

Kylan was exhausted.

He was physically and emotionally wiped out, dehydrated, and under nourished.

He didn’t need hospitalisation or even a doctor.

The fact he was drinking and eating, and passing urine, was reassuring enough that we could manage that on our own. We could ensure his body received the right nutrients and adequate hydration and enough rest.

What we couldn’t do was fix the lifetime of neglect and abuse he’d suffered at the hands of his family, his father.

Sure, we could safeguard him, make sure he knew he was safe and loved, protected. And, moving forward, that was great.

But we couldn’t repair the damage that was done. Not on our own.

He was going to need professional help for that. Helpthat we could encourage and pay for, but it was Kylan who needed to take that first step.

All we could do was hold his hands and gently steer him in the right direction. We couldn’t make him get help. We couldn’t make him do anything.

There was no contract, no obligations to be met on a legal basis. This was a relationship now, not a clause in a binding agreement.

After we’d all had a much-needed nap, Kylan wanted to venture downstairs. He needed a change of scenery, and his room was beginning to feel too small.

He wanted to cuddle up with us on the sofa and watch a movie—with him in the middle, of course—which was perfect, and to be honest, something the three of us needed.

We needed to feel connected while also being very normal.

If normal was something we ever were . . .

While being very much boyfriends.

Because maybe that is what we all were?

I still wasn’t sure . . .

“Can I ask something?” Kylan asked. The movie was clearly not holding his attention.

“Sure,” Leon replied.

“Will you tell me about your families?” he asked. “What your personal lives are like? Where you grew up, that kind of thing. I realised I don’t know anything about that. Is that something I should know?”

I chuckled. “Of course, darling. My parents are here in Sydney. My mother was born in France, andshe met my father when he travelled to Europe after college.”

“Oh, how romantic,” he whispered. “And Leon? What about you?”

“My father passed away sixteen years ago,” he said. “My mother remarried. They live on the northern beaches.”

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