Page 25 of Step Daddy

“Yeah. But I can get my own food if you take me to a grocery store on the way back. I feel bad that you’re stuck feeding me.”

Gareth furrowed his brow as he regarded him. Once again, Kit found himself under his brother’s mental microscope. He wished he could climb inside Gareth’s head, discover all the opinions Gareth had about him and his situation. Despite all Gareth’s reassurances, Kit had burst into his life out of nowhere. He knew he was a disruption.

Gareth seemed to have come to a conclusion. “I understand how you might feel that way. I’m not minimizing your concern when I tell you again that it makes me happy I can take care of you right now, that there’s something I can do—even on the smallest level—to make up for all the years I didn’t make sure you were okay.” He sighed. “I can’t help but wonder if I’d been more a part of your life whether this bullshit with Ted would’ve ever happened.”

Kit lowered his head, kicking at a small grouping of rocks. The dust from the dry ground immediately coated his Chucks in a fine sheen of dirt. Gareth clasped his shoulder.

“I’m here now, Kit. I won’t go back on my promise this time.”

Kit’s eyes snapped up and he drew his eyebrows together. “What promise? I don’t remember you promising me anything back then.”

“I remember. When Ted would start hassling you, or start fighting with Cassandra, and I’d tell you to hang out with me in my room? Remember?”

“Well, yeah.” Man, did he ever. “I never told you how much that meant to me.”

“That’s good. I’m glad it helped. But I also used to tell you all the time that you could always come to me about anything, that I’d make sure Ted didn’t fuck with you. Remember that part?”

“Oh.”

Kit had never taken that as a literal promise. They were the words of a teenage boy who was as beaten down as he’d been by an abusive asshole. They’d been in the same war, battling the same enemy. Even though he’d been heartbroken when Gareth left, he never blamed him. He’d been fighting to survive the same way Kit had.

Kit was grateful for the sunglasses he wore as he teared up. Gareth was already feeling guilty, taking responsibility for Kit’s wellbeing. He knew without a doubt Gareth would see the emotion in his eyes.

He had to wonder once again, though. Was Gareth treating Kit the same way he would a boy? Because if he was, Kit was ready to sign on the dotted line. He’d be lying if he told himself he wasn’t loving the thought of having someone like Gareth be his Daddy.

Kit swallowed hard. Let’s face it. Not someone like him. Gareth.

Apparently, he was never going to stop perving on his brother, so he might as well run with it.

Gareth inclined his head, his brow creasing. “Was there anything else on your mind?”

Kit realized he’d been staring and not talking. As long as he’d stopped fighting his attraction to Gareth, he figured leaping into the unknown was the next logical step. At least in the new unexpected world he now inhabited.

“Actually…” He sucked in a big breath and sailed off the cliff. “I was thinking I’d like to see the club.”

Gareth’s jaw dropped so far Kit wondered if it would detach like a cartoon character’s and tumble to the ground. He finally snapped it shut.

“Let’s get outta here. I’m not having this conversation in the sun with a bunch of moto guys milling around.”

“Are you mad I asked?”

Gareth brushed the top of his head several times, dust clouding up then getting caught in the constant desert wind before whooshing away.

“God, no. But first we’re going to go somewhere cool and quiet and more than anything, somewhere I can feed you.” Gareth bumped shoulders with him. “No argument. Accept that I want to do this.”

His knees had already weakened from Gareth’s declaration of wanting to feed him, so he was ready to do anything Gareth asked.

“Okay. I accept it.”

Saying, ‘okay, Daddy’, had been at the tip of Kit’s tongue, but he knew neither of them were ready for that. His shoulders drooped as he trailed after Gareth to the truck.

And probably never will be.

* * * *

What the fuck?

Gareth tapped on the menu at the coffee shop he’d chosen to have the club discussion with Kit. He’d steered far away from the place he typically went to after practice. No way was he going to either be overheard or interrupted every five minutes while he gently talked Kit out of going with him to the club.

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