Page 148 of The Story of You
“Should I …” He pauses and forces a large breath. “There somethin’ I need to call you?”
Darius whispers into my ear. I run a hand through his hair. “I was thinking the same, darlin’. How about Daddy and sir if you’re comfortable with that?”
“You can call him Major too. I give you full permission,” Darius says.
He’s being a brat, but he’s got a lot of leeway on that tonight. Other boundaries he’ll need to be firmly reminded of.
“I can … yeah, that works for me.”
I grab his barefoot that’s only a scant inch or so from me. He never wears socks and hardly ever wears proper shoes. He flinches but then untangles from within enough to let go at least for right now. “You gonna tell us what you meant by ‘why does it have to be you’?”
“Do I have to?”
“Yes, you have to,” I say in sweet tones. Playful ones. Communication between us will be vital, but it doesn’t always have to be serious.
I win a tiny smile from him. Darius is smiling too with his lips pressed against my neck.
“Because you’re so big,” he says, hiding his hands in his hair and flushing seventy-two shades of pink. “I can’t even … fuck. I can barely talk around you, and I don’t know why.”
I squeeze his foot. I think I’m getting an idea. He hasn’t had this with someone before. It’s a first. But he’s wanted it—craved it—and now here it is, but it’s me who’s already attached to his forever mate.
“It’s real cute is what it is. I’m told you being quiet is a novelty.”
“If you’re just gonna make fun—”
“Not making fun. It’s called flirting. It’s also what gets you talking.”
Darius laughs.
“Ari, so help me,” he says.
“That reminds me. Why do I have two people keeping me in line? Isn’t one enough?”
It’s my turn to laugh. “I think you need an army keeping you in line, sweetheart.” I kiss his cheek. Then I yank Asher’s foot toward me until he’s forced to have the other one join it on my lap. I’m not letting him feel left out anymore.
“My feet are gross, sir,” he complains, but he leans sideways against the back of the couch, getting comfortable.
“No one’s feet are as gross as Oliver’s,” Darius says. “And he doesn’t seem to care that they’re hanging out for all of us to suffer them. A little dirt on the bottom of your feet is nothing.”
“Don’t worry, I wash my hands before I stick’em anywhere important.” I squeeze some more, but I’m massaging this time, hoping he’ll let go and not feel pressured to talk. Eventually, he closes his green eyes, the red highlights in his hair shimmer when the sun hits them. He’s nearest to the window.
“I’m going to get more cake if that’s all right with you,” Darius says, polishing off his scotch.
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
“You’ve been like a hovering parent.”
I shrug. “That’s what you get.” That’s what he gets for nearly dying. I don’t finish the sentence on account of it being Oliver’s birthday, but he knows. “Go get more cake—and more for me too.”
Oliver plants himself down on the other side of Asher who startles and turns his body, bringing his legs off my lap to dangle off the couch. He puts an arm around Oliver. His demeanor brightens. “Hey, sweet turnip. Did you like my present?”
Shane got him a job on one of his construction sites. No one has much need for money around here these days, but everyone likes to contribute.
“You didn’t have to get me anything, you know, but yeah, I did. I’ll need something to read when I’m done the family book. I’m halfway.”
A kitten springs up out of nowhere and onto my lap. “I think something followed you,” I say to Oliver, running my hand along her fur. Another kitten appears, making his home on Oliver’s lap. “Wow, they sure like you.”
“Finally. Everything likes Dad better. He’s bigger than I am.”
