Chapter 12

The rest of the week passed in a blur. Some days Robin would stop by and bring me coffee at work but he never lingered. I could see in his eyes that there was distance there. Distance that hadn’t been there before.

I wasn’t sure how to cross that distance.

Wasn’t sure I should, all things considered.

Sunday rolled around faster than expected. With the girl’s play practice behind us, most of my paperwork done, and at least a dozen well-meaning but nosy comments about my new “boyfriend” I was ready for a break.

And to see Robin again.

When the twins and I arrived at the park—after we spent our morning watching the Cask of Amontillado episode of LilPoe fifty times in a row again—Robin was already there.

Part of me worried he wouldn’t be, and I was glad to be wrong.

Once again, he was wearing all black. His feet were adorned in the same combat boots he always favored— maybe because they gave him a few extra inches of height on top of a haunting aesthetic? Beneath his long, thin jacket he did, however, have my hoodie on.

So that was at least an improvement.

And proved that he was as obedient as I’d hoped he’d be, considering the fact that I was the one who had told him to wear it.

Seeing Robin dressed in my clothing while out and about made something buzz warm and bright in my chest. And a grin spread across my lips before I could stop it. Jane and Rosie gave me a funny look, their little hands clutched in mine as we approached.

“So,” Robin said by way of greeting. And then he paused, eyes widening. “I mean,” he corrected himself, “Good morning, Ben-hilda and spawn.”

I snorted, and the girls giggled along even though there was no way they got the joke. They simply liked to be included. And Robin was good at that. He made sure to give them both plenty of eye contact, and though he often addressed them, he never spoke to them like they were incapable of understanding.

Perhaps that was why they seemed to like him, even though they rarely took a liking to other people outside of their immediate family.

“Good morning, Robin,” I replied, once again surprised by how low and warm my voice was. I couldn’t help it when I was around him. He brought something out in me. Something protective and tender.

When he looked at me my insides lit up.

“I’m ready to be trained, O Captain, my Captain.” Robin saluted, his heels knocking together. “Your loyal cadet.”

I was pretty sure he had no idea what he was saying, but I was charmed anyway.

“Then let’s get started,” I replied, releasing the girls and pulling my satchel off my shoulder. Inside I had all the supplies we’d need. Props for the relay race, the most notable being a rope to tie our legs together, and the spoon and egg—a fake one this time—for the first portion of the race.

Robin, to his credit, was silent as I explained everything to him. Though that didn’t mean he wasn’t vibrating with energy as he stared between me and the girls, green eyes alight. He simply seemed excited to be invited. And it was that naive, almost childlike joy that made me realize, end date or not, there was no way I’d be holding back with him anymore.

The distance this week had hurt more than it should.

And I wanted every part of him I could get, for as long as I could have it.

If he noticed a change in me he didn’t say anything.

Not when I brushed my fingers along the back of his neck when pulling the hat I’d brought him down over his ears. Not when I’d laced our legs together to practice the three-legged race, and spent extra time skimming my fingers across his calf. Not even when we fell to the ground in a giant, sunny patch when we tripped, his warm body atop mine, and the icy fallen leaves crunching at my back.

I was lucky I’d survived that fall, if I’m being honest.

Like God was watching out for me.

After going out for cocoa I invited Robin back to our home for dinner where we spent half an hour trading barbs and jokes in between the babbles of the girls whispering to each other, then us. He kept me company while I chopped, and after we’d eaten our fill of the pot pie we’d painstakingly prepared together—special thanks to Baxter and the dough he’d left me earlier—I’d left him alone on the couch for the second time since we’d met to get the girls ready for bed.

Robin didn’t fall asleep this time.

He was wide awake when I returned, staring up at me with those green, green eyes, his hands clenched into fists over the jagged holes in his jeans. He’d ditched his jacket and shoes, his socked feet tucked up beneath him, my hoodie drowning him nearly to his knees.

“Spend the night,” I said because it felt only natural.

Nervous, butterflies erupted in my belly.

Robin’s eyes widened. His mouth dropped open for only a moment, betraying his surprise, before it shut with a gentle click. “I can take the couch.” He didn’t argue with me, which I appreciated.

“You’ll take the bed,” I told him immediately.

The stink face he gave me was truly legendary. “If you think I didn’t notice you favoring your back after last time, you’re dead wrong, methanpheta-ben.”

Jesus Christ . I snorted out a laugh that quickly died when the rest of his words processed. “We’ll share then,” I offered, hoping my eagerness wasn’t as obvious as it felt.

I’d written a scene like this in a book once.

It was a common trope in a lot of romances.

The only thing that would’ve made it better was if another snow storm had hit, fat white flakes blanketing the streets outside, and trapping Robin in my home where he belonged.

“I’m a blanket hog,” Robin warned, obviously worrying about something he shouldn’t be worrying about again.

“I’ll survive.”

“I might kick you.”

“I have toddlers. I’m not afraid of a few accidental kicks.”

“I snore,” Robin countered.

“You don’t,” I replied, because he didn’t.

A slow, happy grin spread across his lips. “There’s nothing I can say that will make you change your mind?”

“No.”

A beat passed.

“Okay.” His voice was meek. Far meeker than it had ever been before.

“Do you want to spend the night with me?” I asked, because for a moment I’d seen him hesitate. “I can still take the couch.” We weren’t promising sex. Neither of us had even broached the subject, despite our flirtation-ship since the very start.

Not that I’d be opposed to it.

The walls were thick in my apartment, the girls were safely asleep. There was a lock on the door, and while I would never, ever, ever invite anyone else into my home for such a thing, Robin felt…well… He felt different.

He was my exception.

In most things.

I didn’t make friends easily. I never had. Even back in high school when I’d been a die-hard eyeliner wearer and coated in buckles and black fabric of my own. I had friends because of how I looked, and not because I was particularly adept at making them.

I’d often wondered if I’d had a tendency to fall into cliques because of exactly that. A primal thing, searching for a pack by projecting where I’d like to fit because my words dried up and were easily misconstrued.

In a way, I admired Robin and his “trashmouth” as he’d put it.

He had so many words they spilled out freely. There was no hesitance, no doubt. I imagined if he let his walls down he’d have an easy time making friends. It was hard not to love him when he was so goddamn lovable.

Shaking away my thoughts, I crossed the last few steps between us and laid a hand on Robin’s shoulder. “Would you like a drink first?” I asked, because while I was quite certain I did in fact want to share a bed with Robin tonight, a little liquid courage wasn’t a bad idea for either of us.

We wouldn’t be getting drunk.

That would be irresponsible.

But to share a glass of wine while curled up on the couch together sounded like the perfect way to end a lovely day.

“Yes please.” Robin tipped his head back to watch as I moved past him. My fingers idly stroked through his hair on my way into the kitchen, the silken strands leaving a lingering sensation long after I’d released them.

If Robin was surprised when I returned to the couch with two half-full glasses of red wine in one hand, he didn’t say it.

“Big hands,” he observed, obviously impressed.

“A trick I learned I could do in college,” I explained, sitting down and slinging an arm over the back of the couch. I beckoned him closer, watching him carefully for any signs of discomfort. The foot of distance between us closed as Robin crawled into the hollow I’d left for him.

He took his glass out of my hand with a happy hum, his sweet fuzzy head snuggled up against my shoulder. He was the perfect size to fit snug against my side, his socked toes brushing my ankle as he nursed his glass with both hands like he was holding a mug of cocoa, not a wine glass.

“Neat party trick,” he agreed, voice echoing inside the glass. He took a long sip, made a face like he was expecting it to taste bad, then relaxed. “Oh.” He was obviously surprised.

“You like your coffee sweet, I figured you’d like your wine sweet too,” I replied by way of explanation.

“You figured right, big man.” Robin took another sip, longer this time. He held himself very still, rigid against me. I didn’t try to force him to relax. I figured this was like coaxing a wild animal close. Slow and steady was the way to go.

“So,” Robin said, at the same time I took a sip from my own glass. I hummed in reply, biting back a grin when I felt him finally relax. His body grew pliant, the hard line of his broad shoulders, marshmallow soft. “How’s your next book going?”

It was an out-of-pocket question, but I appreciated it all the same.

Not many knew who I was or what I wrote, and Robin and I had bonded the first time we’d met over our mutual appreciation for each other’s art.

“My deadline is two weeks before Christmas,” I hummed.

“But that’s so soon!” Robin’s eyes went wide. “How close are you?” He frowned. “Not that I know much about that stuff, but you have to be at least…kinda close, right?”

I hummed thoughtfully to soothe him. “I’ve got a few days off after Thanksgiving. I’ll finish then.”

“You’re evading the question.” Robin’s eyes narrowed at me, these grumpy little slits.

He was correct, I was evading the question.

Truth be told, I’d been spending all my free time with him lately. There hadn’t been much time to write. I would figure it out though, I always did. And the last thing I wanted was to make him feel guilty. I’d had enough distance this week, thank you very much. “I’m on schedule,” I told him, using the arm behind his back to gently tweak his ear. “Don’t worry about me.”

“Someone should,” he snarked back, cheeks pinking up. I tugged his ear harder and he laughed.

“Is that your way of saying I’m incapable of taking care of myself?” I teased, thumb stroking along the fuzzy soft velvet of the shell of his ear. He’d taken his piercings out today aside from one at the top. I was careful not to tug for fear of hurting him.

“That’s my way of calling you a lonely-ass loner,” Robin replied.

That was something we had in common.

The loneliness.

He didn’t really know me. He couldn’t. We’d only just met. But his declaration was close enough to the truth that I didn’t deny it. “I have a hard time with people,” I explained instead of reacting. “My best friend lives in L.A. Aside from her, the only people I spend time and energy on are my family.”

And you, I added, privately.

“I feel that.” Robin nodded sagely. He bit his lip, his piercing clinking. “What about your kids’ mom?” he asked, and then flinched like he’d done something particularly horrendous.

“The girls’ mother is also my best friend that lives in L.A.,” I hummed, continuing to stroke his ear. I took a sip of wine to give my mouth something to do, even though I wanted to set the glass on the table and taste something far more tantalizing.

“Handy.”

“Mhm,” I agreed, watching Robin’s mouth. It was a lovely mouth. Soft and pink. Expressive. I bet he kissed the way he did most things, voraciously and with little thought. Hunger curled hot, low in my belly. “We made a pact that if we both weren’t married by the time I finished medical school we’d have kids together.”

“Does she like kids?” Robin asked, curious.

“She does,” I agreed. “Though she’s always been more of an…eccentric aunt than a mother. The girls adore her, despite this.”

“That’s how I am with Bubba,” Robin hummed. “Except I’m his uncle, not his aunt.” His skin paled when he realized what he’d revealed, and he glanced at me through his lashes, a sad, sheepish expression on his face. I kept quiet, because I knew him well enough now to realize if I did he’d continue to speak. “He’s my kid,” Robin explained. “Biologically, I mean.”

That did not surprise me.

Bubba looked exactly like him, down to the freckles and the swoop of both their button noses.

“Yeah?” I stroked Robin’s ear again and he shuddered, lashes fluttering.

“I always wanted to be a dad,” Robin blurted out, startling me. His eyes went wide. He wilted. “But…I mean…” The look he gave me was the saddest, sweetest thing I’d ever seen, like a puppy expecting to be kicked. “I wasn’t ready? When Bubba was born. Didn’t have any money. Didn’t know what the fuck I was doing. I wanted to keep him but I just…I knew I’d just fuck him up. You know?”

Again, I stayed silent, though I made sure to maintain eye contact. To keep my gaze soft and sweet and indulgent, so he would know that I was listening.

I got the feeling he’d never shared this with anyone else before.

“I got no regrets. Miles is a better dad for Bubs than I ever could’ve been,” Robin explained, voice quiet. “He came outta the womb like that, I think. Some people do. You shoulda seen him the first time he saw Bubba. It was like he’d seen God or some shit.” Robin’s voice took on a fond tone. “He’s always been emotionally mature for the most part—aside from when he was beatin’ homophobic assholes’ faces in.” Well, that had escalated quickly . “Always gentle. Quiet. Patient. Good at listening. You know? The kinda dad a kid like Bubba needs.”

Robin took a shaky breath. The wine had loosened his tongue, but he didn’t seem to mind. He took another, longer sip, nearly emptying his glass, before he nuzzled against my shoulder. “I just wanted everyone to be happy. And honestly I was…scared.”

“You did well,” I told him because it was true, and I got the feeling he needed to hear it. He may not have been prepared to be a parent at that age but things had turned out the way they needed to. Miles was happy. It was obvious. And Bubba was probably the most well-adjusted kid I’d ever met.

“Thanks.” Robin’s smile grew more sure, more confident as he blossomed under the praise. “If there’s one good thing I’ve done in my life, it was making Miles a dad.” Robin finished his wine glass and removed himself from my body to set it down. Luckily, he returned right back to the crook of my arm the second it was settled on the coffee table. Only this time, he pulled his feet right up too. They curled between my legs, tucking under my thigh as he pretzeled into my side.

“Miles said you had good parents,” Robin mumbled, muffled into my shirt. It was thin fabric, one of my favorite button-ups. I liked it because it was perfect to layer beneath sweaters when I went out. I could feel the hot puff of his breath on my pec, and my dick stirred as I slid my hand down his back in a slow, soothing manner.

“I did.” I stroked again, embarrassed to find how much it turned me on that my hand took up so much space on his body. I could imagine tucking my fingers up inside him. The way he’d twitch and writhe, tiny legs sprawled wide while he fought to take me. “I do.”

“We didn’t,” Robin’s voice was still muffled. His toes wriggled beneath my thigh, and I bit my lip so I wouldn’t groan. If he moved just a little up, he’d be wiggling right beneath my balls.

God, how long had it been since I’d been touched?

I forced aside thoughts of sex, and his charming little feet, trying to get my head back online.

“Miles said you never knew your father,” I hummed, because he had. Or maybe…Trent had said that? It was hard to remember exactly who I’d learned the information from.

“ He didn’t,” Robin corrected. “His dad fucked off to play pro football or something. We had different dads.”

There was a lot packed into that little flippant statement. “But…you did?”

Robin froze. His wiggling ceased. Even the hot puff of his breath paused as he seemed to take a moment to process what he’d accidentally let slip.

When he relaxed again, I did too.

Up and down, back and forth, I stroked the long line of his back.

Robin took a slow, steady breath. “Fuck it.”

I wasn’t sure what he’d decided, but apparently it was important, because he wiggled his face so he could see me, his pointed chin digging into my pec. “My dad sucked.”

I blinked, surprised.

“When I was…twenty, I think? I dunno. Twenty-one maybe. I got it in my head that I was gonna get Miles out.” Robin’s voice wavered. “My dad lived in a city north of where we did. I reached out to him to see if he’d help me apartment shop.”

I had a feeling where this was going, but I didn’t interrupt.

“I saved up for…fuck, I dunno. A year? Getting the first month, last month, the deposit, and yada yada. Enough for furniture and stuff. I worked myself to the fucking bone man. Because I thought—” Robin’s voice was rough. “I thought I could surprise Miles? Figured we’d have a fresh start. It’d be easier to make music in a big city like that. He could go to college.” He sucked in a breath. “I was gonna drive him up there one weekend, play it all cool, and then bring him inside our new apartment and be all, ‘Surprise, motherfucker! Welcome home.’”

“I’m guessing that didn’t happen,” I murmured, my hand stilling on his back for just a moment before I began moving again.

“Nope.” Robin shrugged a shoulder. “I knew…my dad was shit. Mama always said he was. But there was this time…when I was in high school that I’d really needed him, and he’d shown up when I called, and for hours…fucking hours …we’d sat at this diner downtown where Mama wouldn’t see, and he helped me finish the project I was struggling with. I thought… fuck . I was such an idiot.” Robin sucked in another breath. “I thought it’d be like that? That maybe Mama had lied about him or some shit, I dunno. He’d been so nice to me that one time. And Mama always had her own agenda…so I just…I gave him the benefit of the doubt.” Robin’s accent was thicker then. Probably the thickest I’d heard it, the warm croon of the South sneaking into the words.

“What happened?”

“I showed up to check the place out,” Robin’s voice cracked right in half. “We were supposed to move in a few weeks. I’d sent my dad all the money I had and he’d kept telling me and telling me that he’d get it all sorted, that it wouldn’t matter if I checked the place out myself. Kept sayin’ ‘don’t you trust me?’ and all that shit. Sent me pictures of our place. Pictures I later figured out he’d gotten from a fucking magazine.”

My heart hurt for him.

I couldn’t imagine what that had been like.

“Thing was, I didn’t trust him—even though I wanted to.” Robin’s voice was this quivery, wild thing as he stared up at me. “Call it instinct. But when I showed up a day early to double-check with my own fucking eyes and it turned out the building he’d told me we’d be living in was fucking full already, I wasn’t even surprised.” Robin’s eyes never left mine. There was something raw and brittle twisting up inside them, like brambles and branches, covered in thorns.

His eyes said, he hurt me.

They said, he lied.

They said, I’m scared everyone else will lie too.

“He’d taken my money and was planning on running,” Robin’s voice was cold and dark. “So I went to his work, keyed his fucking car, and I just…” Robin trailed off.

“You just…?”

“ I dunno. ” Robin’s fingers curled in my shirt, gently tugging. “I guess that’s when I knew that people just…suck.” Robin’s words were dark and sad, but his actions betrayed him. He claimed not to trust people and yet, here he was, trusting me with his deepest, darkest secret.

Like he hadn’t even realized that’s what he’d done.

“Robin.”

“He was my dad .” Robin’s voice was shattered. “He was supposed to protect me.”

“I know.” I curled my hand around the back of his neck and squeezed. He glanced away, eyes lost. “He failed you.”

“Maybe it’s ’cause he knew I wasn’t worth it.” The words were muttered, quiet enough I don’t think Robin meant for me to hear them. But I did. “A part of me has always been scared I’d end up just like him.”

“ Robin .” My heart thudded erratically as I waited for him to meet my gaze again. When he did, his eyes were hollow. “I may not have known you long, but I can tell you without a shred of doubt in my mind that if there is anyone on God’s green earth that deserved better, it’s you. You’re nothing like your father.”

“You would say that,” Robin countered, cracking a little smile. “Because you’re a teddy bear.”

A teddy bear?

I squinted at him but didn’t allow him to distract me, even though he made that difficult. “You are so incredibly sweet,” I said softly—always soft because I didn’t think anyone else had treated Robin gently. “You’re loyal. You’re thoughtful. You’re talented.” He flinched after each compliment like they were barbs.

Sweet, sweet baby.

How long had it been since someone was gentle with him?

Since someone loved him the way he so desperately needed?

“You’re a ray of sunshine,” I added, because it was true. “What your father did was not only an absolutely fucking horrible thing to do to a person, but also a literal crime. You didn’t deserve that. He should’ve taken care of you, not stolen from you.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“You can,” I agreed, because he could. I’d never met a more self-sufficient person. You didn’t reach the level of fame he had without being incredibly competent. “But you shouldn’t have had to.”

He needed to understand that this wasn’t his fault.

“Trusting your father proves what a wonderful person you are.”

“I was naive.”

“You were a child ,” I countered. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Trusting people…choosing to believe in the good isn’t weakness.”

Over the years I’d seen a lot of things. Both personally and because of my profession. I’d met a lot of different people with different backgrounds. I’d heard stories—stories that chilled me, that hurt sometimes, that made it difficult not to believe the worst of people.

“The fact you still chose to give your father a chance, even after the lack of his presence in your life, shows how truly strong you are,” I added, because it did. “Despite everything you’d been through, you still chose to trust him. That reflects positively on your character, not negatively.”

“Even though he ended up fucking me over?”

“You can’t blame yourself for a choice he made.” My heart ached for him.

Robin sucked in a wobbly breath like what I’d said physically hurt. “Miles says there’s room for us in Belleville despite our baggage. But even he doesn’t know half the shit I’ve been through.”

“You’re a fighter.”

“That’s all I’ve ever done.” Robin melted into me, the barbs in his eyes gone.

Robin amazed me. He truly did. Messy but kind. Scared, but willing to believe the best of people—just because that was who he was. I admired that, especially as someone who struggled to believe the best in people.

“You know what’s weird?” Robin’s voice was soft again, turmoil forgotten.

I didn’t press, because it wasn’t my place to. I’d said my piece, and he’d need time to process it, I was sure. Still though, I held him close, soaking him up like a dry sponge as I took a sip of wine so I could pretend like things were normal, even though they felt anything but.

“What’s weird?” I echoed after I’d swallowed.

“ You .”

“Me?” I laughed, taking another sip of wine before twisting to look at him.

“There it is.”

“There what is?”

“My eyebrow.” He reached up with one painted finger and gently poked at my brow. I snorted out a laugh, amused.

“I’m pretty sure that’s my eyebrow.”

“Nah. I adopted it. It’s mine now.” Robin grinned up at me. It was the cutest fucking grin. He was a little tipsy, but nothing uncomfortable. His toes wiggled beneath my thigh again.

Not rising to the bait, I spoke again, “What about me is weird?”

My heart thudded erratically, and I could admit I couldn’t wait to hear what his response would be.

“Everything.”

“Everything?” I laughed, incredulous.

“Yep.” Robin’s eyes crinkled. Lovely lines expanded as he did so, his dimples flashing. For the first time I could see the touch of age. He looked young, probably thanks to good genetics. But there was no denying that Robin Johnson’s soul was old.

“Are you going to elaborate?”

“Nope.” Robin’s chin dug into my chest as he laughed, this quiet riotous thing. Because even now he was aware that my angels were asleep down the hall.

I wanted to kiss him.

Wanted to kiss his cherry red lips. To chase the wine along his tongue. To show him how much I enjoyed him, thoroughly, with my tongue.

Instead, I kissed his forehead.

Slow, sweet.

The skin was warm, and Robin shuddered beneath me as I stroked the back of his neck and lingered as long as I could.

When I pulled back there was a foggy expression on his face. I hadn’t even needed to praise him this time to get him to respond like that, but that didn’t stop me from doing it anyway. “You are so lovely,” I told him, because it was true. “And so brave for sharing that with me.”

Robin shivered, leaning into me with a muffled sigh.

“Are you ready for bed?” I asked him, gently rubbing the back of his neck and up into the fuzzy soft, shorn hair at his nape. “You can use my shower. I have pajamas for you.”

“You’re so good to me,” he countered, like that was a miracle.

“You deserve to be treated well,” I replied.

He didn’t look like he believed me, but he didn’t argue. That still felt like progress.