Chapter 12

Chapter

Twelve

H onestly, Samuel wasn't sure how Jake managed to do anything.

It wasn't that the house was dirty. It was not. It was clean. But nothing was in order.

Nothing.

Not anything.

He started with the pantry, carefully organizing cans by date and by type and making sure that the pasta all stayed where the pasta belonged, and everything was nice.

Then he went searching for the spice cabinets. Jake absolutely didn't have a lot of spices, but the ones he had were just in a drawer, not even in a cabinet. They called it a spice cabinet for a reason, but that was fine.

Samuel organized those, and the silverware and glasses, and then he started to work on the baby's room.

He made certain the baby's toys and books were all put into a semblance of order in a way that the baby could play and enjoy everything.

Then he went hunting for Jake's bookshelves. He knew the man had to have some. He hadn't seen any yet, but that didn't mean anything.

He knew at the bottom of his soul that every house had bookcases. Some people just chose not to decorate with books, which seemed strange, but he had to give acknowledgement to the fact that Jake had moved recently, and he had a baby.

"No babbie."

"Right. You're a big boy." Who really wasn't a baby anymore. Grant was a toddler.

And none of that changed the fact that Samuel needed books.

He looked at Grant, who looked back at him. "Do you know where your daddy's bookshelves are?"

Grant stared at him.

"You know, books? Do you know what books are? Where the books are?"

Grant toddled right over to his bookshelf with all of his baby books and pulled three or four of them out, two fisting it.

"Yes, yes, very good. Those are books. Those are your books. Where are your daddy's books?" He held his breath, hoping Grant knew.

Jake had promised that Samuel's books were coming. He had also promised that there were going to be bookshelves.

That was apparently what Jake was doing right now in the basement workshop room thing. Jake was making bookshelves like the ones he's shown him online, but Samuel's books were not here yet, nor were his bookshelves so…

He needed to touch books.

Grant grabbed his hand and took him down the hall toward Jake's bedroom.

Oh, he wasn't sure he was supposed to be in there.

But what if that is where the books were?

But he was pretty sure he wasn't supposed to be in there.

Grant kept pulling.

"Are the books in here?"

Grant pushed at the door, which swung open, and indeed, there were books and clothes and an unmade bed and…

"Oh dear. Oh dear." He shouldn't be in here, he really shouldn't be, but the books were all in a jumble.

Samuel decided right then and there if he found a single dog-eared book, he was going to go downstairs and spank Jake with a shovel.

"I'm sure, without question, that this room is not safe for you, Grant. There are too many things everywhere, so come, and when you have your nap, I'll go deal with the books."

His hands positively itched to get them off the floor. Jake had said he wasn't much of a reader, but there was a sizeable collection of tomes. And he wanted to explore them.

"Oook!"

"You want to read a book?" Oh, that would solve both his and Grant's urges. "Let's go pick one and sit to have a read, hmm?"

He'd visited the bookstore and the library space with Jake a few days ago and had brought home a few new books for Grant. Time to break one out.

"I foresee many hours spent sitting and reading together while your daddy carves his weird little wooden animals at night, sweet one."

"Aminal."

"That's right! Should we read a book about animals? Maybe about bears? There are caterpillars too. Fish. Birds?"

Grant made a roaring noise and toddled over, grabbed a stuffed penguin out of his toy box and flung it right at Samuel.

"Penguins it is. There's got to be a book in here about penguins." He found the book in question, and they sat in the big rocking chair, Grant holding his stuffed penguin, beginning to blink slow, with Samuel reading along.

When Grant finally slipped into real sleep, he rose and gently placed him in his little bed with the rails. So cute, his little brow still furrowed with concentration, and his penguin tucked against his chest.

Then Samuel headed back to Jake's bedroom as if the books were calling his name.

They needed care. Poor little books. He hummed and gathered them up, putting them in stacks by genre.

Jake liked mystery and suspense. History. Philosophy of the pop culture kind. Motorcycle maintaining and all that. He had books on birds, one of which was a lovely hand-bound volume with watercolor paintings.

Samuel sat down hard. "Susan. Oh, Susan, you did these."

He went through page after page, sobbing, hands under his cheeks to keep teardrops from falling and smudging the pages.

They were beautiful, and they were happy. Filled with beautiful plumage and bright little button eyes and the joy of flight.

Susan had loved nothing better than flying. Possibly not even her son.

After all, she'd sacrificed her life to it.

At the very end of the book, there was a drawing slipped in, and it was a sketch of newborn, little Grant. He had been tiny and held in what had to be Jake's sister's arms.

Samuel wanted to wail, to scream, but he couldn't.

Grant was asleep.

There was a part of him that recognized the irony of this whole situation, of the need to scream, to wail and tear at his clothes, and throw things with the knowledge that the baby was sleeping and books needed stacking and soon there would be supper and a fire and another book.

And tomorrow would come, and Susan would still be dead, and he would still be alive.

And so would Grant.

It seemed to him that was a lot for one dragon body to hold in.

He put the drawing back in where it had been and closed the book so he could set it to one side.

He wanted to speak to Jake about this one and ask if they couldn't put some acid-free paper in between the pages. Possibly give it a place of honor somewhere where it could be cared for, because this was truly one of a kind.

One day, he assumed, it would be Grant's.

Of course it wasn't his. It was Jake's, and he would respect Jake's wishes.

Possibly.

He was going to talk very hard though.

It was there that Jake found him—sitting on the floor, sorting books, drying his tears.

Sorting books took a very long time because he had to stop and look at each one as he went so that he knew how to organize them, of course.

"Hey." Jake raised an eyebrow at him sitting there, surrounded by stacks of fiction and nonfiction and photo books. "You okay?"

"I'm not sure. I'm sorry I snooped, but I found Susan's bird book."

"Oh, shit. I meant to show you that a few days ago, but I couldn't find it. You should put it in your hoard."

"Really?" He picked it up to hug it to his chest.

"Yes." Jake's eyes glittered with emotion. "That way it's safe. I have good intentions, but I end up hiding it away so I—" He shook his head. "You keep it."

He started crying again because this was literally the kindest thing anyone had ever done for him. This was the biggest gesture he could imagine, and he didn't know how to pay Jake back.

"You've really done a lot of work in here. You didn't have to. You do know that, right?" Jake didn't sound angry. In fact, he sounded gentle. "I think maybe we should go downstairs and have a snack and a cup of coffee. We can just sit near the fire. You should bring the book if you need to."

He stared up at Jake. "I'm sorry, I can't stop crying."

Jake nodded. Don't worry. Sweet, everything will be fine.

That just made the tears come harder because that was real. That mental touch couldn't be faked or lied through.

And it shocked him when Jake simply lifted him and the book up and carried him out of the bedroom and down the stairs.

He hiccupped, clinging to Jake with one hand, the book in the other.

"Here. Curl up here on the couch, and I'll stoke the fire up, then bring you a cup of tea, hmm?"

"Thank you." He sniffled, watching Jake move around, his big, rangy body clad in jeans and a heavy sweater that was covered in sawdust and wood shavings. "Were you coming to change?"

"I was. But that's okay. I'll just brush this down."

"Oh, I can sit here, I promise. Go get comfy."

Jake chuckled. "All right. The kettle is on. Back in two shakes of a lamb's tail." He headed back upstairs, and before Samuel could even blink, he was back, wearing sweatpants and another huge sweater, socks on his feet.

"I'm sorry, you must think I'm a fool." His cheeks were on fire.

Jake shook his head, mane still carrying a few wood curls. "No, no, you were probably long overdue for that. You've had a lot of changes too. Even more than me at this point. You've moved twice, found out your sister had a baby. That she died. You lost your hoard, you got your hoard back, and it's still not here. I was a big dick, but now I'm better and… It's a lot. You're allowed to mourn."

"Thank you. That's very kind." He still felt like an asshole, but he'd take the out.

"I like what you've done with the pantry," Jake told him.

"Oh, thank you. I just. I like when things are in order."

"Well, order away." Jake turned to look at him. "Just stay out of the workroom. I know where everything in there is, even if it doesn't seem like it. And there are things that are very, very sharp that could cut you."

Samuel leaned forward, daring to tease. "I do know what a knife is," he said. "In fact, I have quite an extensive knowledge of medieval weaponry."

One dark eyebrow winged up. "I'm scared to ask. Why?"

"There was a project that the children were doing at the school of my wing, and so I had to help them find books. And you can't help someone find a book if you haven't read the book, really. It's always helpful to at least have a working knowledge of the book." Samuel nodded, because that was that.

"Fair enough." Jake chuckled, pouring hot water into mugs holding tea bags. "I mean saw blades and other things too, though."

"I'll stay out, I promise." Samuel wasn't really a snooper as a rule. Of course, now he was curious to see what was down there. Maybe Jake would show him.

"You can go see, just don't organize it. Like I said, everything's in its place, even if it doesn't seem that way." Jake brought the mugs over and sat. "Better?"

"Yes, I'm sorry."

"That was perfectly reasonable. Don't stress it."

"Thank you." He sighed, looking at the book where he'd laid it on the coffee table. "It just took me by surprise. She really was happy here though. I'm glad."

Jake nodded easily. "It's a good place. She was loved."

"I'm glad." Samuel didn't know what else to say. She hadn't been adored at the wing he'd come from, but she hadn't been disliked either. The wing was very basic, simple, cold.

Susan had always just wanted more than what was available to her with the rules and structure of their particular wing.

And he was sure if you asked his mother, she would say Susan got the end she deserved. Samuel knew better. He just hoped that she hadn't been in any pain, that it all happened so fast she didn't even know.

"Don't dwell on it. That way lies madness." Jake gave him a faint smile. "Tell me more about you. Do you like to watch movies?"

"Oh, I do. I haven't watched a ton of them, but I'm a big reader. Surprise." Samuel was always a little bit ashamed of how much he loved to read, but it was better than anything because there were no limitations, just what he could imagine. "But I do like funny movies and movies about space."

"Like serious space?"

His eyes went wide. "No! Like goofy aliens explosion space."

That made Jake laugh hysterically. "Oh, I love it. I like explosion movies. I also like a good murder mystery."

He nodded. "I could tell that by the books in the bedroom. I have some suggestions for books, I mean if you're interested."

"Sure. Always. And you're welcome to borrow any book that you'd like."

"Oh, that's an honor, thank you." That meant something when someone let you borrow their books. "You don't dog-ear them, do you?"

"Oh, you sound like Amber! No. Just because I may have broken a few spines before I knew what that meant…"

He chuckled. "Okay, fair enough, fair enough. We'll teach Grant early. He'll learn. Oh!" He clapped his hands. "Did I tell you that when I asked him if he knew where your books were, he went to his bookshelf and pulled out books? So he knows what that means."

Jake beamed. "He's so smart. He's going to be the ruler of the world."

Samuel nodded. "I can see it—a kind, benevolent ruler. Nobody mean."

"No, that kid doesn't have a mean bone in his body." Jake just looked so proud. "You'll be a good influence on him too, I can tell."

Samuel flushed, his cheeks heating. "Do you think so?"

"I do. Absolutely. He needs an omega influence, and you're so smart and kind, but you have grit."

Grit? Him? He didn't know about that, but it was a nice thought. He had stood up against Jake, though, for Grant, for what was right. "I just want him to be happy, to grow up and fly."

"Yes. That's amazing. You weren't doing what your family wanted. You did what was best for that little boy." Jake reached out and took his hand. "Thank you."

A jolt rocked Samuel and he gasped.

Remember, Jake is going to find an omega, a mate, and you'll have to be okay with it.

I'm not going to find another omega.

"What?" What had Jake just said?

"Did you hear me?"

"Of course I did."

Jake arched one eyebrow. "And how long have you been able to hear my thoughts?"

"As long as you've been able to hear mine." That was obvious, wasn't it?

"So…just now."

He pursed his lips, eyebrows lowering. "Don't. You heard me a lot. I know you did."

"Hmm." Jake's eyes twinkled. "I guess I might have, yeah."

He almost stomped his foot. "Are you always this maddening?"

"Only when you're thinking about me mating with someone else."

Samuel frowned deeply, shaking his head. "Well, it's going to happen. One day, you'll find somebody that's not me and have babies, and I'll be the nanny—the librarian nanny, the spinster librarian, nanny. I mean, I was going to be the librarian spinster anyway, but now I'm a nanny too."

"I think that spinsters are really just bachelors," Jake pointed out.

"Bachelor infers that they're happy go lucky and stuff."

Jake gave him an arch look. "You're not happy?"

He blew out a frustrated breath. "I didn't say that." I won't be if you got another mate.

I'm not getting another mate. I already have a mate!

"Where?" That was totally uncool. Samuel was not going to put up with being lied to. "No one mentioned that you had a mate. Do you have it locked in the basement? Do you have a place to hide a mate in the basement? Is that why you don't want me down there?"

Jake stared at him as if he'd lost his mind. "All right, one, I said don't go in the basement yet because I want to clean it first, but if you're worried, we can go now. Two, there is not anyone locked up in the basement. Three, are you the most wildly imaginative individual on Earth?"

"No." He crossed his hands over his chest and pursed his lips. He was not going to be an emotional dragon, even if he really wanted to be. He wanted to stomp his feet and cry and bite something a little bit, because he didn't want Jake to have another mate. He wanted Jake to have him.

"I intend to, you sweet, silly dragon."

His breath whooshed out of his lungs. "What?"

"I intend to have you. Dragons don't hear one another unless they're related. Or mated…" Jake crossed his arms over his chest and watched him, one eyebrow up.

"No." He shook his head. Surely not. It was coincidence. It was—It was because of Grant.

Though that would explain why he'd felt so strongly about Jake from the get-go. "But you were so mean to me."

"It didn't have much to do with you. I was mad because…" Jake shrugged. "I wanted the wing to be willing to have my back and I didn't understand that that's what this was. This was them having my back."

"I don't understand. You mean about the baby and my family, don't you?"

Jake nodded. "I do. I didn't understand that Lars was. You're not into Lars, are you?"

"Jake. Lars is an omega. I'm not into Lars." Dipshit.

"Lars can't be an omega, sweetheart."

That was just stupid. "Says who? I mean, it's not really our choice. We don't get to choose whether or not someone else is an omega or not. That's just stupid."

Jake shook his head and said, "No, you don't understand. He's a guardian."

"So what part of Scary Vicious Omega Dragon defending babies do you not understand? Do you think that I wouldn't eat somebody's face if they came after Grant?"

Jake tilted his head. "Okay, fair enough. I see your point, but the real gist of that question is more that I want you to be into me."

Samuel's cheeks began to heat. "I'm not into Lars," he choked out. "And I'm sorry your feelings were hurt."

"And I'm sorry I was an ass. Can we move on?"

Samuel chuckled. "Okay, yes." Jake was such an alpha. Impatient. A little moody. A lot hot.

How could he not be into Jake? All the way.

He picked up his mug. "Want to watch TV? Together, I mean?"

"Yeah, that would be nice." Jake beamed at him, and Samuel was glad to have hit the right note. "Mind if I come sit with you over there?"

"No. I—I don't mind one bit."

"Cool." Jake rose and slid onto the couch beside him, then grinned at him again. "You pick."

"Oh… I—anything?" He didn't know what to choose…

"What do you like to watch? I might be able to suggest things."

"I like to learn about history. Humans too. I like funny. I like a thriller, as long as it isn't gross with gore. And I love mysteries."

"I think maybe there's a new Agatha Christie," Jake said, turning the TV on.

"I like her books. I've never seen a movie off her work." His keep was so behind the human times.

Heck, they were behind the dragon times, being so hidebound.

He leaned on Jake, feeling very brave.

"Well, now's your chance." Jake wrapped an arm around him, and he would swear the man pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

If this was a dream, it was a lovely one, and he was going to enjoy it while he could. So he just settled in, and hoped it would last.