Page 31 of Home for Nathan
“Maybe we should have taken that shower after.”
“Ha! Knot me, dammit.”
“So impatient.” But Zion didn’t have much of a choice. Nathan squeezed down on him, his knot swelled to full proportions, and his balls drew up. Seconds later, he was shooting hard, and Nathan arched, crying out as he came all over their bellies.
They both collapsed, breathing hard, and he moved them to their sides again, not wanting to squash Nathan while they recovered.
“Mmm. Love you,” Nathan murmured, and it was still new enough to hear that it made his heart kick into high gear again.
“Love you too, baby. Let me help you hang those curtains, okay? No ladder time.”
Nathan patted his butt. “Okay. Nap first.”
He nodded, and now that they were done, the room was a little too cold. He reached for a blanket, but it was too damn far down the bed. Except that it was suddenly in his hand, and he pulled it over them. He wasn’t going to think about it too hard.
“Thanks,” he murmured. Maybe they had a ghost, but he’d stopped worrying about it.
Torah crept into the room and climbed on the bed with them, and all was right with his world. So he let his eyes close and allowed sleep to take him.
Chapter
Eleven
“What the fuck do you want? Why do you keep calling me?” Don’s voice was just about as pleasant as he remembered it being.
Which, given that was one of the least pleasant things about him…
Nathan opened his mouth to answer, but Don never stopped talking.
“I don’t want anything to do with your asshole kid. I don’t want anything to do with you. I’m not going to get trapped in your bullshit, tortured artist nonsense. It’s not my fucking baby!”
Nathan didn’t have a choice but to blink. A tortured artist? Him? He really wasn’t all that tortured. In fact, he was kind of the anti-tortured. He loved his weaving and his blankets, his wall hangings, and they didn’t tend to cause him a lot of stress.
“Look, I’m just calling to?—”
“I said it’s not my baby, okay? I didn’t get you knocked up. I don’t care. I want to be left alone, and I’m going to file for a restraining order.”
“Dude, I just want you to terminate your parental rights. I’m getting married. I don’t have any interest in you.” He hadn’t ever had much interest in Don, to be honest, in any of this nonsense.
“So what? You found some other sucker to support you?”
“I just need you to sign your parental rights away. That’s it. That’s all. I don’t need anything else. I don’t need to talk to you. I just need a signature on a piece of paper.” Another sucker? When had Don supported him? The guy had rarely ever let him spend the night, and they’d usually gone Dutch.
“No.” The single word was flat and hard.
“What? Why?” It didn’t make any sense.
“I’m not signing anything. It’s not my baby, and I won’t admit to it on paper. This is just some kind of a trick.”
“A trick?” Abracadabra, poof, it’s a baby? Like magic! Lord.
He would swear he heard light, feminine laughter, and Torah woofed from where she lay by his feet.
“Yep, it’s a trick to get to my money.”
Okay, maybe Don had started shooting up heroin in the last eight months. Or he’d had a stroke.
“What money? What are you talking about? Did someone die and leave you some, because you never had any in your bank account.” It sure never did feel to Nathan as if Don had been rolling in dough while they were together. They’d both had jobs. They’d both paid bills. He’d thought Don was probably doing a little bit better than him, but he was still really getting started in his career, and waiting tables could be feast or famine.
