Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

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The dinner was perfect. Bronx tried not to get emotional about the fact that his son had cooked a better meal for him than Bronx had ever made in his life. It was a sign he was growing up. He was nearly old enough to be considered an adult, but that had never mattered to Bronx. He wasn't the kind of dad ready to kick his kid to the curb the moment the clock ticked over to eighteen, and he never would be.

But there were big, blaring signs now reminding him that no matter how much he wanted to hold on, Lucas was going to grow up. With or without his acceptance.

"So, are these going to be on the menu for the food truck?"

Lucas scoffed. "No. Marc has a thing about food truck food being handheld or nothing. I'm trying to come up with a creative way to make them in, like, an empanada or something. I don't know. He and Lane told me I could have some creative license with the menu, and since this isn't getting off the ground until next year, I have time to figure out if I'm going to be good at this."

"If it helps, I'm impressed," Monty told him. He'd polished off his plate and shoved it to the side.

Lucas tried to make his face unimpressed, but he failed. "This is home cooking though. Whether or not I can hack it in a kitchen is a whole other thing. But Lane says that he's never had anyone take to the job so quickly with no experience." Lucas bit his lip, then said, "I'm kind of thinking I might not look into colleges right away."

Bronx immediately felt irritation race up his spine. "We can talk about that later."

Lucas's mouth turned down in a frown, but luckily, he wasn't one to make a scene in front of guests. "So. Does anyone else think it's ironic that your new sex friend is the guy that's going to help me fly a plane?"

Fuck. He spoke too soon. Monty choked on his swallow of water as Lucas smirked across the table at them both.

Bronx groaned and rubbed a hand down his face. "First of all, you have manners. Use them. Second of all, that's the definition of coincidence. Not irony. I don't know what that school was teaching you."

"How to wipe my ass and not leave shit stains on my underwear," Lucas said mildly.

Monty looked at Bronx with wide eyes, and Bronx sighed. "Great. Well, hopefully, this new school will catch you up since you mastered the art of wiping yourself. Anyway, I'm grateful that my new friend is the guy helping you fly. It makes me feel a lot better."

"Were you worried I'd be up a hundred miles in the air with some dirty perv?"

Monty cleared his throat. "Not to be pedantic, but a hundred miles is nearly halfway to the space station. My little plane would fall to pieces. And luckily for you, there are no dirty pervs allowed on my plane. "

Lucas's grin widened. "Yeah. I do like you. Where do we get to fly to?"

"Anywhere. But to preserve your father's sanity, maybe we stay close to home this first time," Monty offered.

Bronx shot him a grateful smile as Lucas groaned and sat back, crossing his arms. "What's the furthest you go?"

"Normally? I go to spend time at my grandfather's grave. He's the only person in my family I was close to. It's not a very long flight. Maybe if your dad feels comfortable, you and Kylen can pilot me there."

"Maybe Dad would like to come. I haven't really dated, but I heard it's customary to introduce your new totally-normal-not-sex-friends to the family you like."

"And that's enough of this. Lukie, why don't you hop in the shower so I can start the dishwasher."

"I hate you," Luke said, standing up. He started around the table and immediately tripped over Monty's leg, which was stuck out just a little too far. He didn't hit the ground. Monty caught him midway and hauled him to his feet. "Wow. Spider-Man reflexes."

"More like I don't want to kill my totally normal friend's son in his own kitchen." He was smiling, but his voice was trembling.

Luke set his arm on Monty's shoulder and squeezed. "Please don't freak out. I trip on a lot of things. Like, a lot . Half of the time, it's my own shoes because I know better, but I still leave them in the middle of my bedroom floor when I'm tired. You didn't do anything wrong."

Monty nodded, then realized his mistake before Bronx could point it out. "Right. Thank you. I am trying very hard not to screw up though."

"I noticed," Luke said with an even wider grin. "Look, there are some serious pros to your ‘totally normal friend,'" he exaggerated his voice and used air quotes, "having a blind son. Like you can make out, and as long as you don't make disgusting noises, I'll never know."

"Thanks for that," Bronx said flatly. "Please go shower."

Luke scoffed, but he obeyed, taking a careful step away from Monty before heading down the hall. When the bathroom door shut, Bronx let out a sigh and flopped over on Monty's shoulder. "He just learned how to do air quotes. Sometimes I forget that people learn gestures from seeing them. Adele's son taught him how to use them."

Monty laughed softly. "I was such a loner in high school and college, so I missed a lot of those things too. I like him though. He's a great kid."

"He really is. The more I socialize, the more I realize how lucky I am. I could have gotten some teenage angst monster."

"I think those are the product of parents who are…what's the phrase for it? Unplugged?"

Yeah, it was. Like his own had been. Like a lot of their friends' parents had been. Bronx had gone through a nightmare phase, and he'd been terrified that his own son was going to be his karma. But the worst thing Lucas wanted to do was fly a plane. He could live with that.

"So. At the risk of sounding like a massive asshole?—"

"You need to drive me home?" Monty offered.

Bronx's ears got hot. "I'm sorry. I have a really early morning tomorrow, and as much as I want you to stay, you're distracting."

Monty laughed and stole a quick kiss, making Bronx's toes curl. "I have a lot of paperwork to deal with and a busted A/C in my office. I should go. But I can take a car so you don't have to drive me."

Bronx stared at him, offended. "And deprive me of being able to make out with you like a horny hormonal teenager in your driveway?"

Monty burst into laughter and grabbed him by the front of his shirt, kissing him harder. "You make a good argument. If you ever want a career change, I know a law school not too far from here."

"I'll keep that in mind. Now, let me find my shoes so we can get going. I need to get my tongue in your mouth without the risk of sensitive ears picking up all the little sounds and making us live to regret it."

Monty grinned and stole a last peck. "Sounds good."

Yeah. It really did.

Bronx swore he could taste Monty on his tongue in the days that passed after dropping him off at his place. He could feel echoes of his touch on his skin, which was wholly distracting as he attempted to finish the work to get his office open.

It didn't help that Lucas was giving him shit every time they were in the same room together, though he did appreciate his son didn't bring it up when they met with the rest of the dads. Bronx desperately wanted to tell someone—anyone. But he didn't want to lose Monty. He had no idea how long he'd be able to keep him—if he'd be able to really keep him—so he wasn't trying to race the clock.

His head was pounding the Friday before the office opened. He was behind his desk, trying not to think about what he and Monty had gotten up to the week before, but it wasn't easy. He remembered acutely what it felt like with his knees pressed to the floor and Monty's cock throbbing along the back of his tongue.

He remembered the thrill of nearly getting caught and the feeling after of holding Monty close as they waited for the person to leave.

He still hadn't figured out who it was—he didn't recognize the voice of any of the staff, and no one had asked him about it. He was fairly sure they were quiet enough to not be heard through the door, and he wasn't sure how he'd live with himself if they weren't.

"Knock, knock."

Bronx looked up to find Valerie—the other full-time vet—standing in the doorway. Her long black hair was in a braid that fell over her right shoulder, and she was dressed in a pantsuit, which told him she'd probably been out doing official office things.

"Hey. Sorry, I hope you weren't standing there long."

She shook her head, taking two steps in and glancing around. "I have to admit I've had my doubts about leaving Pahws for this place, but the offices here actually let me stand up and walk around."

He snorted. "Yeah. My last place was in a house that was built before the industrial revolution, and it smelled like a gas leak and sewage. The offices were up this super-narrow set of stairs, and I was convinced I was going to be thrown to my death by some old Revolutionary War ghost. Anyway, what's up?"

She grinned and took one of his guest chairs, dragging it in front of the desk to sit. "So, I just got done at the bank. The account is all set up, and they're sending over the payment system hardware later. Mica will be at the desk getting the computers all updated and the software tested, so she said she'll take care of it."

He breathed out a sigh of relief. "Appointments?"

"Twelve on Monday, and we're booking up pretty quick for the rest of the week. I think we'll have to start looking at Saturdays and Sundays in the next couple of months."

One of Bronx's new hard, fast rules was not working on weekends unless he had to. At his old clinic, it hadn't mattered unless Lucas was home from school, but since he'd chosen to stay over most weekends, Bronx had filled his time with work.

Now that things were better, he wasn't willing to give up his hours with his kid.

Not while he was still young enough to be home.

"That'll be between you and Neil," Bronx told her. "It'll be a few years before I'm willing to do weekends."

She didn't look annoyed. She smiled and leaned back in the chair. "How's your kiddo adjusting?"

Bronx shrugged and glanced to the side. "Well enough, I think. He doesn't talk to me much about how he's feeling except to be angry at his dad."

Her face fell. "Yeah. That's rough. Joint custody?"

Bronx swallowed heavily. He hated telling people the truth, even though the only person who looked bad was Jules. But he also wasn't a man who liked lying. "I have sole custody. My ex didn't leave just me."

"Oh. Fuck him," she said angrily in the voice of a person who knew exactly what that felt like.

"Exactly. Lucas thinks it's his fault, which makes me want to eviscerate my shit-for-brains ex. But he was a crappy dad from the start, so the one thing Luke isn't is surprised."

Her brows flew up. "It's probably better that he walked away. In my experience, having a half-assed parent is worse than an absent one. I mean, it's still gutting either way, but it took me so long to realize my dad was never going to actually be there for me and to stop chasing him. And I'm still the dipshit who answers the phone when he calls."

Bronx shook his head sadly. "I think Lucas might struggle once his anger dies down a bit. It's still really fresh. But therapy is helping, and he's got a good head on his shoulders. He just got a job at my friend's restaurant, and my boyf—my other friend," he corrected, flushing, "is going to take him flying."

Veronica lifted a brow and smirked. "Your other friend is a pilot?"

"He owns a plane," Bronx said. "My brother's partner is the pilot. It's a whole thing. Please don't ask."

She laughed. "Fair enough. So, this other friend …was he the one who was in your office last week?"

Oh fuuuuuuck . Bronx tried to breathe through it, but he felt when his face turned bright red. "You, ah…you were here last week?"

"You didn't know it was me?" She grinned wider. "For what it's worth, I didn't actually hear anything except a loud thump when I knocked. The soundproofing is really decent. I'd be careful though. The younger staff here might not appreciate afternoon trysts."

Bronx swallowed heavily, his throat hot and tight. "I'm really sorry."

"Don't be," she said, leaning forward. "It sounds like you deserve a good friend and a little romp around the office. Besides, I was the only other person with a key that day, so no one else would have walked in."

He let out a trembling breath and rubbed his hands down his face. "I'm really embarrassed, but thank you."

She laughed again as she stood and walked over, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder. "Let's have dinner soon, yeah? Maybe next Friday after the week is over? "

"That sounds amazing." And it really, really did. He wanted this—wanted friends, wanted people of his own that weren't tied to Jules. People who would never consider needing to choose between one person and another if things went to shit. "Mark me down. We can go to Lane's restaurant. I get the friends-and-family discount, and if my son's working, we can send a bunch of food back to piss him off."

"Oh God, you're one of those dads," she said.

He grinned and shrugged. "I definitely am. And I'm not sorry."

Veronica left his office laughing as he leaned back in his chair, and he let himself bask in the warmth of his feelings. Things were good. Maybe too good. There was room for another shoe to drop, but he was done being a fatalist. He'd never be a complete optimist, but he wanted to have hope. To have faith.

Bzzt. Bzzt.

He fumbled for his phone, and his heart skipped a beat when he saw Monty's name on the screen. They hadn't talked much over the last week. His schedule had been murder, and Monty had court four days in a row and was stuck eyeballs-deep in paperwork when he wasn't downtown.

He wasn't expecting to hear from him for a while.

Monty: Big favor to ask.

Bronx: Shoot.

Monty: Have dinner with me on Sunday.

Bronx: Sparky, is that really a big favor?

Monty: It is once I tell you it's at my father's house.

Bronx sat back, all the air rushing from his lungs. Of course his answer would be yes. There wasn't a chance in hell he was going to let Monty be subjected to that man by himself if he could help it. But God, he'd have to prepare himself because it had taken all of his restraint not to punch the fucker in the mouth in the ten seconds they'd been in the same room last time.

Monty: Sorry. I know that was too much to ask.

Bronx: Stop. Nothing you ask will ever be too much. Tell me what time to pick you up.

Monty: I usually get a car. It might be better that way in case you need to leave.

Bronx: Not a chance I'll leave without you. He doesn't scare me. What time do I need to pick you up?

Monty: I need to be there at seven.

Bronx: Then I'll see you earlier than that. We'll unwind before we head out.

Monty: You are too good to me.

Bronx: And your bar is too low. But I'll fix that. See you soon, gorgeous.

He was laying it on thick, but it was impossible to care when it meant getting his hands on Monty again. When it meant spoiling him, fucking him, holding him, kissing him. When it meant making what was probably emotional torture into something else.

Bronx was a protector. He couldn't help that, and maybe for the first time in his life, he had someone who wanted to be protected.