Page 19 of Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang Us, Daddy

Nate quickly shakes his head as he fiddles with his key fob. Behind me, the truck honks as he locks it, and I jolt, my heart racing at the unexpected sound . . . or maybe it’s racing because of the look he’s giving me right now. The concern on his face is palpable.

“Let’s get you inside, little guy.” He carries me through the garage and into the kitchen. Pausing at the trash can, Nate glares at the now-warm Powerade Meadows gave me before mumbling something that sounds a lot like “Pompous son of a bitch,” but it must be the fever because Nate never curses. He opens the fridge and grabs a bottle of water. After handing me the water, he sets his sights on the freezer, pulling out a Pedialyte popsicle and placing it in my hand. Making a stop at the sink, he grabs a bottle of red medicine from the cabinet and pours it in the plastic cup. Holding it out for me, he orders me to drink. Trusting him implicitly, I guzzle it, but I quickly realize the trust I have for him must be unwarranted, because it tastes like medicinal cherries, rotten berries, and an unwashed asshole.

“Nate,” I sob, trying not to gag. “Why? Oh, God, it’s like liquid death!” I bury my face in his neck and wail—probably like a maniac, but I can’t help it—until he grabs the water bottle from me, somehow removes the cap with only one hand, and lifts it to my mouth. It takes half the bottle before my mouth tastes somewhat bearable again. “Why would you make me drink that? I thought I was going to die.” But Nate just chuckles as he kisses my forehead.

“Precious boy,” he praises, sounding more amused than the situation calls for. My heart flutters a bit at the endearment, but I try not to let it show as he carries me through the living room, toward the foyer. When we make it to the staircase, he pauses.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“Did you want to go to bed, or were you wanting to rest on the couch?”

A nap sounds divine, if I’m being honest. But what if he takes me to his bed? What if he wants to cuddle when Benji’s not here? I promised I wouldn’t do anything with Nate, and my word is my oath when it comes to Benji. I deliberate my options until Benji’s voice comes through my phone’s speaker. Damn. I forgot we were still on a video call. My head’s all over the place and it feels like time is skipping back and forth, making it hard for me to determine reality from the fever.

“Take him to our room, Dad,” Benji suggests. When we look at my phone screen, he’s staring back at us insistently. “You need to rest, Bennet. If you stay downstairs, you’ll just wind up watching Real Housewives for the rest of the day. Bed, medicine, sleep. In that order.”

“Are you sure?”

He shrugs. “Why wouldn’t I be sure?”

“It’s just . . .” I dart my eyes to Nate, who is staring down at me like I might die at any moment. “What we talked about earlier. Aboutnappingwhen you’re not here with me.”

Nate clears his throat. “I don’t think that’s very kind, Benjamin.” His voice is soft but firm, like he wants to get the point across, but he doesn’t want to hurt Benji’s feelings. “He’s sick and he needs to rest.”

“No,I never said you couldn’t nap,” Benji corrects me. “I don’t mind if you doze off, if you know what I mean. I just don’t want you to . . .” He stares at the screen, deep in thought, choosing his words wisely. “You can nap, Bennet, I just don’t want you to fall into a deep, REM sleep state. There’s a difference. Nuance, Bennet.”

“You don’t even know what ‘nuance’ means,” I counter.

“Does anyone really know what it means? I mean, really.”

“I do,” Nate pipes in. “And I don’t think Bennet has any control of which sleep stages he goes through once he’sunconscious. It sounds to me like you’re setting him up for failure before he’s even said his bedtime prayers.”

“I don’t pray, sir,” I admit. “I’m an atheist.” I sniffle, because I really don’t want this to come between us. “Please don’t disown me.”

“Oh, buddy,” Nate soothes. “I don’t mind. I’m Presbyterian by birth, but I think I teeter more on the agnostic side these days.”

Benji throws his hands in the air in frustration, accidentally knocking over his drink in the process. “Son of a motherfu?—”

“Language,” Nate scolds him, making Benji’s cheeks burn.

“Sorry.” Benji’s got his eyes on me again, and the sassiness, though not gone entirely, seems to have lightened. “You look so sick.” He sniffles. “I don’t like to see you sick, so I want you to go upstairs and get some rest, okay? Because when I get home, I’m going to want to cuddle, and you’re a terrible cuddler when you’re tired and cranky.”

“Yes, Mom,” I groan. Nate chuckles as he carries me up the stairs, his fingers tickling my thighs. Before I can stop myself, I slap his shoulder and glare at him. “Quit it!”

My eyes bulge when realization hits. I don’t talk to Nate like this. I don’t let him see my sassy side, because Benji and I don’t have anywhere else to go. If he sees me for who I really am and not just the parts of me I don’t keep hidden, he’ll kick us out. No one could ever know the real me and still choose to stay. It’s been proven time and time again.

“I’m so sorry,” I say, rubbing my hand against his shoulder like it might somehow undo what I’ve just done. “I don’t know what that was about. Please don’t be mad. I promise, I didn’t?—”

Nate’s finger touches my lip, silencing me. He’s got his usual carefree grin locked in place, but nothing about what I’ve just done warrants a smile. I deserve to be punished, however he sees fit.

“I ought to put you in time-out for that.”

“Uh-oh,” Benji sing-songs. “Someone’s in trouble.”

“Someone’s going to get a dirty sock shoved in their mouth while they sleep if they don’t zip it,” I snap back at him.

Nate arches an accusatory eyebrow at me, but Benji’s got a wide grin on his face. He looks beautiful this way. Carefree. Overstuffed with affection. I’m seeing shadows of the man he used to be, before Benito took that man and crushed him down to dust.

“Son?” Nate says, and the disciplinary tone in his voice sends a chill down my spine. When I pry my eyes away from Benji to meet Nate’s, his face is a picture of seriousness. “I’m going to let that outburst slide because there’s a chance we’re both heading toward a near-death experience, but if you speak to Benji like that again, there will be consequences.”

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