Page 39 of I Knead You Tonight

Again.

Not long after Drew walked away from me, Riker woke up, lungs ready for another screaming match.

He’s cried. Drew’s cried. And I’m about to fucking cry because all I want to do is sleep and I can’t.

I passed on the pot tonight, taking what Drew said earlier seriously.

Maybe she’s right. Maybe I am just a prick, but the pot doesn’t help. Sure, it helps me feel calm inside, but it’s just a Band-Aid.

Pot is my bitch sticker.

And I’m no bitch.

I lie here for a few minutes, waiting for the familiarShh, it’s okay,but I don’t hear Drew shuffle around.

I pull myself off the couch and make my way to my bedroom.

Drew is out cold, sprawled across one half of the bed, the fatigue having set in completely. Riker, who is usually blocked in on the bed with a fort of pillows, is nowhere to be seen.

I follow the sounds of the crying to the other side of the bed, and I’m surprised to find him swaddled in a blanket lying inside one of my dresser drawers on the floor.

“What the…”

Without a second thought, I bend down and scoop him up out of the drawer, cuddling him close to my chest.

He’s so tiny in my hands.

Warm and fragile.

An overwhelming sense of protectiveness falls over me, and I cup my hand around his little body like I can safeguard him from all the dangers in the world.

“Shh, it’s okay,” I tell him, just like Drew always does, bouncing him up and down a few times and ignoring the stabbing in my shoulder. “I’ve got ya, buddy. It’s okay.”

To my surprise, he begins to quiet down, nuzzling his face into my chest like this is exactly where he wanted to be all along.

I glance down at the bed, which looks incredibly inviting.

Sure, the new couch I bought is a million times better than the old one, but I miss my bed, and if I’m not smoking tonight, I’m at least going to be comfortable.

Slipping into the bed as smoothly as I can manage, I make myself comfortable and get Riker situated—complete with his pillow fort—between me and Drew.

I get the binky back into Riker’s mouth, patting his belly. “You’re all good now, little man. Nice and comfy up here. Go back to sleep for your mama.”

As if on cue, Drew stirs, and I slam my eyes closed because if I can’t see her, she can’t see me.

The logic of a fucking child.

“What’s going on?” she mutters. “What happened? Is he okay?”

I peel my eyes open. “He was fussing, so I figured I’d come in and help.”

“He was?” She rubs at her face. “Shit, I didn’t even hear him. I’m so fucking tired.”

“It’s fine,” I tell her. “Just go back to sleep. He’s good now.”

She looks down between us, her eyes quickly going to where Riker’s tiny fist is wrapped around my finger. He’s made it clear I’m not going anywhere tonight.

“He’s so perfect,” she whispers.

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