Chapter Sixteen

Kevin

"Are you absolutely sure you want to make the move here?" I knew Reid was capable of making decisions, obviously, but I wanted to be sure he wasn't doing it just to make me happy or things easier for me.

"As long as you're sure you don't mind me quitting my job and depending on you while I find another one." He sounded worried. "It might be a while. My skills are pretty specific."

"Not a worry at all. With everything we have planned for the house, you'll probably be too busy to job hunt anyway." I slung my suitcase in the back of the car. "Got everything you need?"

"I didn't have that much with me to start with." He chuckled. "I've gotten pretty tired of wearing the same clothes. Believe it or not, I have a full closet of different things to wear."

"It must not have been easy wearing the same stuff over and over all these weeks."

"There were other things that made it worth it," he joked, climbing into the passenger side. "Ready?"

"You bet."

We'd examined all our options at length, sure of only one thing. We were going to move in together and build a life, and I didn't really care which home we chose as long as it made Reid happy. In the end, we chose this city for two reasons. One, my job was not particularly transferable and it paid more. Despite Reid's concerns, he already had a couple of likely job interviews coming up and would be employed probably sooner than he needed to be. The second reason was the sentiment attached to Reid's home. His uncle's house said family to him, although he hadn't known his namesake as well as he would have liked. And I looked forward to building on those good bones.

My house, for all the work I'd put into it, would be a comfortable home for us while we did all the refurbishing on Reid's house. No matter what anyone said, I knew what it was like to live in a construction zone and didn't want that for my little. It was just too chaotic and not suitable for anyone, really.

"Maybe we can rent my place out once we move into yours." What to do with mine had not been decided because it would be a while. "I think it would be the best for us, as an investment for our future."

"You're the finance guy." He reached into the back seat and pulled a bottle of water from the cooler. "And to tell you the truth, I kind of hated the idea of giving up the house you did so much work on. I'd rather keep it in the family. Water?" He offered the bottle but I shook my head.

"Thanks, no." I steered out onto the highway. It was going to be a long drive, but there was nobody I'd rather share it with. "Real estate is almost always a good investment if you buy it when prices are on the low side. I got a great deal on it, even with everything it needed. And while selling it would give us cash to invest, I realized this morning that I feel a little sentimental about the place too. Is that silly?"

"Is it silly that I have an attachment to the home of an uncle I barely knew?"

"No, it's not." I was firm on that. "Family is family."

"And you bought your home at a time when you were coming out of a real rough patch. You used all that angst and stress to create something special."

"When you put it that way, it makes a lot of sense. But now, going into the best time of my life, I want to use that joy to help create a home just for us."

"We will both do that." He reached over and squeezed my hand. "I think my uncle would be happy about that."

"From what you've told me, I think he would too. From everything I've seen, he took care of the house for a long time, and it probably just got away from him in his last years."

"I wish I'd been there for him." Reid's voice was sad. "But we can honor him like this, right?"

"Absolutely. We will make it gorgeous and yet cozy." I winked at him. "A museum with no velvet ropes."

"Now you're being silly." But he laughed. "You always know just what to say to cheer me up. Is that because you're a daddy?"

"It's because I'm your daddy, or maybe because I love you."

When we got to Reid's old place, I was very interested to see what it was like. The home we were remodeling had held only his luggage and memories. But Reid's apartment was where he'd lived for a long time, and I expected it to show me a picture of his previous life. I followed him up the stairs then waited while he unlocked the door. "It's lucky I don't have any houseplants," he quipped. "As long as I've been gone."

We stepped into a small but well-furnished living room. "This is really nice." The walls were painted a soft gray with white trim, a few pieces of artwork reflecting Reid's taste, landscapes with animals mostly. "I could live here."

"Yes, but we're not going to." He unfolded one of the boxes we'd carried with us. "I used to work right over here." He walked over to a desk in the corner and patted the top. "On my remote days. It was pretty peaceful, but I spent a lot of time dreading going in to the office. There was always some sort of reorganization going on, a way to make more money for a company that already had more than they could use. And in doing so, someone or multiple someones would lose their job. Or had extra stress and work piled on them. It sucked balls."

"Maybe you can learn something new and not go back into the insurance business at all." I sat down on the sofa and reached for his hand. "I make enough for us to live on. You could go to school or even just take six months or a year to decide what you might like to do."

"You know what I'd like to do? After we get all this packed up, maybe we can pay a visit to Collared? I am going to ask them to transfer my membership to Chained, but it would be nice to go one more time."

"I'm up for that for sure. So, relax for a while or get started?"

"Let's get started." He carried his box into the bedroom and I followed, loving this window into his life. "I need to decide what to keep and what to donate or throw away. Funny, I just went through this at the other house. Maybe I'll be better at it."

I helped him go through all his things to have it ready for when the moving truck would arrive in a couple of days. Reid wasn't anything like a hoarder, despite his insistence that he didn't need so much stuff. Or maybe he felt that way because he wasn't a hoarder. Most of what he had was the same as anyone else. Jeans and shirts, socks and underwear, toiletries. He had a set of dishes and one of pots and pans and a lot of mismatched silverware.

But he also had onesies and short shorts and tiny tees and diapers and training pants in his dresser drawers. And in the kitchen, a sippy cup, divided dish, and a bottle. Tucked away in a cabinet where a casual visitor would not be likely to see them. He had a shelf of toy cars that same casual visitor would assume were collectibles. And maybe they were, but I knew he played with them. A single stuffie on the bed, and other things that showed his little side.

He did not have a designer nursery, or any nursery specifically. But what he had was sincerity. Kindness. And truth to who he was without having to explain it to anyone.

And he was mine. My partner, my little, my love. My everything.