Page 10 of Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang Us, Daddy

“Are you changing your mind?”

He quickly shakes his head, not looking me in the eyes. “No. Not changing my mind. Just scared.”

Bennet’s never scared. We’re both just little guys, but he’s always done everything he can to protect me. From the schoolyard bullies and the hateful popular twinks who used to call me mean names while we were dancing at the bar. This whole plan was my idea, and Bennet’s the one carrying the weight of the worry on his shoulders. I want to take it onto myself so he never has to feel it again. I want to wrap my arms around him and promise I’ll take care of him if this doesn’t work out. I want to do so many things, but my cowardice wins out, and I do the only thing I can. I lean closer and kiss his cheek, just a few inches from his lips.

“Thank you for doing this,” I say. “If it goes wrong, then at least we’ll know.”

“And if it goes right . . .?”

I slide my hand into his and squeeze. “Come with me and find out.”

Bennet gives me a nervous nod, and I lead him out of our room, toward Nate’s at the end of the hall. Looking over at Bennet, I try to assure him, but he’s staring down at his feet, holding his half-heart necklace for support.

“I love you, Bennet,” I whisper.

“Love you too, Benji.” He squeezes my hand even tighter.

I knock twice, wanting this to be over with so we’ll finally have our answer, but I’d be lying if I said the act we’re about to put on doesn’t make me uncomfortable.

“All or nothing,” I whisper, most of my nervousness fading when my best friend squeezes my hand and says, “Beginning to end.”

CHAPTER 4

NATE

Icould kick my receptionist’s rear end from here to Dallas for suggesting this sorry excuse for a book. I’ve been wanting to get back into reading after I learned about Bennet’s addiction to gay romance novels. I figure it can be a way for us to bond. While my connection with Benji is stronger than it’s ever been, Bennet and I still feel like two ships passing in the night. We offer each other pleasantries, and I provide him with anything he might want. But our relationship remains surface level, and I’m tired of it. I want to know him. The real him. The boy he keeps hidden away.

Unfortunately, I don’t think we’ll be bonding over this damned book.

AnnaLeigh is always reading something at her desk, so I figured she could point me in the right direction. When I asked her for something with queer representation, she practically shoved a paperback book calledThe Right Side of the Rainbowinto my hands. She’d been carrying it around in her purse for some reason, and once she handed it over, she was beaming ear-to-ear with unearned pride. Then she mentioned she authored the book.

The cover has a picture of a man holding a burning rainbow flag. At first, I assumed it was a tongue-in-cheek depiction of what my son refers to as a “flamer.” Not the case. The book is just lowbrow smut about a gay man miraculously overcoming “his affliction,” and fully realizing his true heterosexual nature, much to the horror of the ex-gay man’s now-ex-husband. The book promises “a love story for the ages,” but—as something else my son might say—it’s giving conversion chíc. I mean, the damn blurb alone makes it sound like an abomination. “Gay rights activist Rex Redmond always knew he was gay,” it says, and then, in a big swirly font, “Until her.”

I’ll need a new receptionist.

Since we won’t be bonding over this book, I’ll need to find another. I guess I could ask Bennet for suggestions, but then he’ll probably ask what I’m doing reading gay romance. Truthfully, I don’t mind the idea of reading about two men falling in love. In fact, I think it might make for a nice mental vacation. I’ve never looked at another man sexually—actually, aside from my wife, I’ve never looked at anyone sexually—so it would be nice to get swept up in a story without having to worry about self-inserting myself into one of the character roles.

After spending the evening with my boys, I took a quick shower and readied myself for bed. As an avid stickler for routine, I’ve selected the same standard sleepwear I’ve worn all my adult life. A white tee and a pair of pajama pants. I’ve got an entire arsenal of them in my designated pajama drawer. Some have little cats, others have puppies. The ones I’m wearing now are gray and covered in uppercase B’s. Bennet and Benji gave me the pajamas a few weeks ago, and I’ve worn them every night since. Each time they see me in them in the morning, their cheeks burn a little darker. I wash the pajama pants every afternoon so they’ll be ready by bedtime; just to see my boys smile.

I’m plugging my phone into the charger on my bedside table when a knock at the door startles me, sending my phone falling to the floor.

“Come in,” I shout. My phone landed near the foot of the bed, so I rise to my knees and lean over the side of the bed, reaching blindly. Behind me the door opens, and once I’ve got my phone in my hand, I look over my shoulder, surprised to see Bennet and Benjamin. The only thing they’re wearing are skimpy underwear leaving little to the imagination. They’re holding hands, their fingers weaved together in grips so tight, their knuckles have gone white. Confusingly enough, their eyes are locked on my backside. If Bennet’s put another “Kick Me” sign back there without my noticing, we’ll be having words.

“Hey, boys,” I greet with a smile. They blink dazedly before breaking the hypnotic hold my rear end seems to have on them. Goodness. We really need to find these boys a proper Daddy. If they’re so backed-up they’ll resort to staring at my old, flabby behind, they must be in dire straits.

Once I’m seated, I pat the empty space beside me. Benji’s rocking back and forth on his feet like he’s wanting to run to me, but he’s scared to make the journey. At his side, Bennet’s staring down at his feet, his face as red as a stop sign.

“We need your help,” Benji says, rocking even faster on his feet. “It’s really important.”

I nod, holding out a hand for him. I don’t like to see my boys nervous like this.

My boys. Huh. Funny how that’s turned out. I’ve known them for over a year. First as Tatum’s friends, then as more, and then as less. Now, we’re closer than we’ve ever been. Maybe it’s down to the fact that my world pretty much revolves around them now. Aside from AnnaLeigh and my patients, they’re all I have. I think they might be all I need. My boys. My family. I need them to know they can trust me with anything.

Hesitantly, Benji shuffles across the room, dragging Bennet behind him. Benji takes a seat in front of me, crossing his legs on the bed. Bennet’s at his side, framing us into a triangle of sorts. I offer my left hand to Benji, and my right to Bennet.

“What can I do to help?”

Benji’s hand is cool against mine. Like ice, really. His skin is still damp from his nightly shower, and the scent of their body wash mixed with vanilla wafts around us. It’s an intoxicating aroma I can never get enough of. It clings to both boys all day, usually still lingering as we cuddle up on the couch after dinner, Benji and me watching television, Bennet reading his Kindle.

---