Chapter 2

Xavier's cry split the air right about the time Benji had actually fallen asleep.

Fuck him raw.

It shouldn't be teeth for another month. Maybe gas.

It wasn't anger; it was pain, so he ran for the nursery.

"What's wrong, son?" He reached down, relieved as hell that Xavier wasn't feverish. His baby belly was hard, though, so it was gas.

Juana hadn't believed him when he said that guacamole wasn't good for babies. He'd read up on it, though, and it was all about the fat content mixing with the fiber. He was not ready for that kind of food yet. Lord help the wee one.

Those grannies at the Abuelita Daycare were amazing, but they were set in their ways. And when he'd complained to his mom she simply said, "It was good enough for you; it's good enough for my grandboy."

"Just how often did you have to massage my belly all night?" he muttered, working poor Xavi with his fingers to try to give him some movement.

Xavi muttered and whined, telling him about it, and Benji nodded.

"I know, sweet boy. I so know. This isn't fair at all." He sang and rubbed and rocked, dancing Xavi around in circles in the spare bedroom he'd decorated in ponies and big-eyed cows and leaping baby goats that were somehow terrifying this late at night when his world was one of light trails and near-hallucinations. Soon he was going to take the baby back to sleep with him. Just so he could sleep a few hours.

Xavi finally burped and farted at the same time, his sharp wail of surprise almost funny. Benji didn't laugh, though. He crooned to his boy, humming a nursery song he only half-remembered from his own childhood.

Even after thirteen weeks, he still couldn't quite believe he was a dad. Sierra had appeared out of the blue after he hadn't heard from her in years, had stayed here for the last six months of her pregnancy, refusing to let him pay her medical bills, insisting that the money he'd saved go into a college fund for the baby. They'd spent hours playing Scrabble and card games they remembered from the service, and laughing.

God, they'd laughed a lot.

She hadn't stayed long after Xavi's birth, either. Just a week. Just long enough to finalize everything. Then she'd kissed them both on the cheek and promised to email.

"She does, you know?" he whispered to his son. "About once a week. And every day I send her pictures of your angel face."

How could he blame Sierra for not being terribly maternal? She knew it. She was smart enough to admit it. And he'd gotten the most amazing thing in his whole life out of it.

Benji had always wanted to have a family. To raise kids in the shadow of Purgatory and Mesa Verde like his folks had. To settle down like his brother and sister.

But he was a gay man in a small western Colorado town, and he wasn't getting any younger. So adopting seemed like the best thing.

Especially when the situation had dropped into his lap like Sierra was laying an egg.

"He doesn't want anything to do with the baby," she'd told him. "And I have this job opportunity up north. I—I'm not mom material, Benji. You know that. What am I going to do?"

What she'd done was offer him the whole world swaddled in a tiny blue blanket.

He'd been in love before; he loved his mom, but Xavi?

This was like addiction and heaven tempered with exhaustion and the knowledge that he didn't have any idea what he was doing. He was working hard at it, though.

Xavi went to daycare while he was at work, at the same place he'd gone as a kid. His mom watched Xavi when she wasn't working at the elementary school, and was as in love with him as Benji was. But between his job, his horses, the goats and chickens, and an infant who desperately wanted to be a night owl in a morning robin world…

Xavi watched him with eyes that were altogether too awake for almost midnight.

"Oh, sweet boy. You have to sleep." He chuckled, though, and headed for his bedroom. They could doze together in his bed, with the glow of the TV bathing them. He had plenty of diapers and wipes in his room.

Hell, he had baby stuff in every room of his house, in his car, and in his cubby at work.

He might even have the world's tiniest diaper in his wallet.

They cuddled on the big bed, Xavi happy to snuggle up to him, jabbering away. Benji listened, drifting a little, because damn it had been a tough day at work. They were less crazy than they had been a couple of years ago, but there were still a lot of little ones in his part of the four corners who got pretty sick, and it was Benji's job to help them out.

The idea that he'd bring something home to Xavi terrified him, but he masked up, he washed until his hands were raw, and he did everything he could. So far, his mom had been far more likely to come down with something. The kids she taught seemed to be germ factories.

It kind of made him want to homeschool, even if that would make his mom crazy. He grinned, shaking his head.

"She would beat me, kiddo."

Xavi blinked at him, cooing softly, tiny fist waving at his face.

"I know, right? It's hard to imagine your sweet granny beating on me, but she's a tough old broad, I can tell you. Don't let her fool you."

The TV flickered, the sound almost inaudible, but it was enough to lull him. Too bad Xavi was all energy all of a sudden.

Sucking on his fist, kicking like a mule, rocking back and forth in happy baby pose.

His baby boy was not acting sleepy at all.

"Maybe I should put you in your swing." There would be a screaming fit if he moved Xavi in that direction, but the kid would be asleep by the third rocking tick-tock of the damn thing, and then Benji could doze a bit harder…

He hated making Xavi cry, though. Especially when he was in such a good mood.

So he stayed where he was, letting his boy coo and hum, letting sleep sort of catch him in waves.

Benji had years ahead of him to be the dad of a grown man. He was going to enjoy having this baby.

Even if it killed him.