Chapter 19

19

The tables in the room are positioned inconveniently for a dude reliant on crutches to get around. It’s fine for the people with two feet, but for the one with a foot and two crutches, it’s a tripping hazard. So, I push the table between me and the doors out of the way. Fortunately it’s not bolted down, so it moves to the wall without much effort.

Darcy narrows his eyes as I move the table, watching me without offering to help. I point to the poster photograph of him. “You don’t strike me as the type of person to blow up a photo of yourself and hang it on the wall in a frame like that.”

Darcy scoffs. “I’m not. My walls at home have paintings of my favorite landscapes hanging on them. That is Romily forcibly adopting me into his strange little family.” His tone sounds disparaging, but there’s that little smile at the corners of his mouth again. He’s totally into being part of that guy’s family.

I reach out, offering him my hand, and he takes it. “It’s nice when people want us around, isn’t it?”

Darcy holds his breath for a beat, but he snorts, shaking his head with a reluctant smile. “Don’t tell him that.”

I laugh and bring his hand to my lips, kissing his knuckles. “I’m an excellent secret keeper.”

He releases my hand and jerks his head toward the door. “Come on, the firing squad is probably waiting to adopt you.”

I follow him out of the room, watching that tight ass move in those indecent skinny jeans of his. “Adopt me? You mean it?”

He shoots me a grin over his shoulder, catching me staring. “Romily gets attached, and Fox gives him anything he wants like an addict in need of a fix,” he says as he descends the stairs.

I carefully follow him down. Stairs on crutches are a challenge, and on the third step my balance wavers, so I sit my ass down, wait for Darcy to hit the landing, and send the crutches clattering down ahead of me. “Hold those, will you?” I call down as I scoot down the steps.

Darcy turns, catches the crutches and picks them up. “Be careful.”

“My parents installed a slide on our stairs when I was a baby. I know how to get down stairs on my ass.”

A scrubby guy with resting bitch face joins Darcy at the bottom, looking up at me through dark brown eyes. He’s wearing a black A shirt and black yoga pants and watches me intensely, but I don’t get the feeling that he’s unwelcoming, just intense.

I wave at the dude. “Yo. I’m Elijah. Is this your house?”

The guy dips his chin once. “Fox.”

“Cool. Thanks for the hospitality. Not sure why Darcy brought me here, but the bed’s comfy, so it’s cool.” I hit the bottom of the stairs and take the crutches from Darcy, levering myself back to my foot and offering Fox a hand as soon as I’m stable.

He shakes it once, then indicates with a jerk of his head to follow him.

I watch him weave through the tables all over the place. There are far more tables than any other type of furniture in this place. “I love the little tables that match the big ones,” I comment as I follow, careful not to trip myself with the crutches.

Fox shoots me a look over his shoulder, narrowing his eyes as I plan each hop. He frowns before making his way back to me and shoving the tables out of the way.

The scrape of the table legs across the hardwood floor makes me grimace. “That’s not good for the floor’s finish. You should probably get some of those little felt stickers to put under the table legs. It makes them easier to move and protects your floors. And thanks for making a path. I know you probably had them where you wanted them, but I appreciate it.”

Fox grunts, lifting a smaller table and placing it atop one of the larger ones.

The watch on his wrist dings and he pauses to check the notification. “Obviously,” he calls loudly toward the kitchen where a cute blond guy wearing a crop top and bedazzled skinny jeans is.

The guy looks up with a wide smile and waves enthusiastically at me. He immediately looks down to his phone and starts typing. I finish the journey to the kitchen, where Darcy pulls out a chair from the table. He looks at me, pointing to the chair to let me know it’s where I should sit, and then he sits on the table in front of the chair.

I sit, resting the crutches against the wall, and he puts his socked feet on my leg. Fox’s watch dings, and Darcy’s phone buzzes. They both check their messages, and Darcy says, “Romily says,”—he makes air quotes—“‘Hello and welcome to the family!” What in the incredible voice acting is this? Darcy completely drops his accent like he doesn’t have one and the deep bass of his speaking voice flips to a light tenor that doesn’t suit him at all. “I’m Romily, the guy who took care of your plants over the summer. They’re fine, by the way. You can see them in the windows all over the brownstone. I’m making brekkie—haha, Darcy had to say brekkie—I hope egg scramble is ok. We’ve had an absurd number of squash ripen all at once and I’m trying to use them up before they go off. Do you know how to can? I’ve never done it, but I need to preserve the vegetables somehow. Yes, I have instructions, but you know, it’s nice to have company that knows what the fuck they’re doing when trying new ventures, amiright?’”

As I listen to Darcy, I watch Romily’s facial expression morph from pleasant and smiling to shocked when he realizes Darcy changed his voice for him, then pleased as punch and laughing when Darcy says “brekkie.” He doesn’t make any vocal sounds during the whole reading, merely huffing his breathy laughter rather than vocalizing it.

“Totally,” I agree. “I do know how to can. My MawMaw and Mom can a couple of times during the growing season, and everyone in the family helps. I can totally do that with you. I’d offer you my phone number, but I was kidnapped and the demons that abducted me stole all my stuff, so I’ll have to get that replaced. Oh…” I turn to look up at Darcy. “I have to do that today. I told my Dad I’d call him tomorrow so he can pay for my semester.”

Darcy’s eyes narrow in thought. “We can getcha a new phone after breakfast.”

“I’ll also need to replace the things in my wallet and stuff.” That’s as inconvenient as the tables all over Fox’s house.

I take a deep breath and let it go. I can’t change what happened, all I can do is deal with the consequences.

The phone buzzes and Fox’s watch dings.

Darcy says in his Romily voice, “Why don’t you just have Darcy track your shit down. He is the best tracker in all the realms according to some opinions.”

Darcy shoots a glare at Romily. “I am the best tracker in all the realms, and I was gonna do that.”

Romily smiles breezily and nods approvingly. He’s glad Darcy’s going to help me out. He points between the two of us and looks at Darcy expectantly.

“Oh, I was kidnapped by a baby flink who thought I’d make a great—”

The baby appears on my shoulder and immediately latches on to my head, wrapping all their arms around my chin and forehead. They chirp happily, chittering about whatever they need to tell me—probably an update on their life since the last time they held me hostage.

“Amazing, baby. You did that all by yourself?” I don’t know what they’re saying, but there are only a few responses appropriate for children, and all of them are supportive and nurturing.

The baby chirrups happily, and I reach up to pet the top of their head. They purr, settling in, and quiet down. “Good baby. I know your parents know where you are, right?”

I get a chirp that I am taking to mean yes, and then I look back to Romily, who’s staring at me with a delighted look on his face. I don’t blame him; the baby is adorable once you get over being scared of a possibly wild animal.

“This is the baby. They usually appear if I mention them because I’m their new favorite perch. Did you know it’s illegal to dislodge a baby flink from their perch because it’s so stressful for them that it could kill them?”

Romily shakes his head in awe, and I nod to affirm what I just said.

“It’s true. So, this baby found me in my apartment and took me on an adventure through the universe and other realms. We visited dinosaurs in the Andromeda galaxy, a cotton candy forest, and a variety of other planets. We ended up in Hell, where Darcy tracked us down.”

Romily sends a message and Darcy reads it for him. “What’s their name?”

I shrug. “It’s probably something I couldn’t say even if I knew it. They speak solely in chirps, and the universal translation spell doesn’t work for me with that.”

Darcy chirps at the baby, and it chirps back, then he grunts. “They said their name is” he makes a chirping noise “and that it’s fine to call them baby.”

Another man joins us, coming up from the basement. He’s a sweaty, buff ginger with more freckles than me and a Viking beard with braids and beads and the whole nine yards. His hair hangs down in two calf length braids, and he stares at me with surprise in his purple eyes.

“Woah, those are really lavender, aren’t they? I’m Elijah.” I introduce myself to him.

No one says anything, but the baby flink suddenly chirps and it’s a disappointed sound, then they disappear. I guess they were only here for a short visit. It’s sweet that they think of me when I’m thinking of them.

Phones and watches sound off, and Romily bounces over to the ginger, stroking his sweaty chest with an adoring smile. Fox stands on the guy’s other side with an arm around his shoulders, while Darcy explains in his Romily voice, “This is our son, Bellamy!”

Romily smiles brightly, and Bellamy sighs like he’s given up on life altogether. “I’m Bellamy Jones. I am not their son except by unofficial official adoption.”

Darcy sets his hand on the back of my neck and stokes my skin as he fiddles with my longish curly hair. It’s been a while since I got a haircut, but Bellamy’s braids could be my new life goals. The man is hott with a double T.

“I hear Romily and Fox like to adopt people. I’ve already been welcomed to the family, so I guess that makes us cousins or something. You ok?” He looks… well, he looks like he’s seen a few things and he’s not as good as he could be but he’s making shit work and maybe I shouldn’t have said anything, so I amend it. “Been working out or was there a ghost down there?”

“Working out,” he explains briefly, then turns his attention fully to Darcy, staring at him with an intense familiarity. “You ready for the first official day?”

A disparaging snort escapes Darcy and his hand on the back of my neck tightens. “Th’ain’t no way to git ready to rule the fucking world, Red.” He draws in a sharp breath, and cusses with more vitriol than I’ve heard from him yet. “Mother fucker —we’re gonna have to work with Santanos.”

Bellamy hangs his head for a moment, chin touching his chest. “Edovard would be disappointed if we didn’t.”

“So that’s why he calls me Peach.”

Romily releases Bellamy and grins at me, indicating for me to go on, but I don’t know what he wants to know. “I’m not sure what you want me to say,” I confess, curious.

Fox squeezes Bellamy’s shoulders and follows Romily as he makes his way back to the stove. “He wants to know who calls you Peach and why,” he explains.

Darcy’s fingers tighten in my hair again, but he doesn’t pull, he’s just holding it.

“Sometimes my inside thoughts come out of my mouth. You can usually just ignore them. Most people do. I just realized why Darcy calls me Peach.” I shrug, because it’s not that interesting.

Romily stirs our breakfast and turns off the stove as Fox asks, “Why?”

I lean in close to Darcy, and tip my head forward so everyone can see the top of my head. I run a finger through the sun-bleached locks. “My hair’s the color of a ripe Peach if you’re looking at it from the top. Bellamy’s hair is apple red on top.”

Fox and Romily must’ve been together a long time, because without looking at each other, their expressions match perfectly. They look between me and Bellamy at the same time, and then the synchronization breaks as Romily grins widely, typing into his phone, and Fox turns away, pulling open a cabinet and grabbing a stack of plates.

“Darcy, do you give nicknames to people who get on their knees for you?” Darcy says that in his Romily voice; he’s reading it from his phone.

It’s nice that he includes me in a conversation that he doesn’t have to. I bet Romily would have said that aloud, but since he can’t or doesn’t want to, Darcy does it for him, and that’s maybe even sexier than when he threatened to kill Stalker Steve for me. Not as sexy as when he bosses me around, but I don’t think private Darcy and public Darcy should be compared like that.

“Is that why you call me Red? I thought it was because I’m a ginger,” Bellamy’s workout flush becomes an embarrassment blush. Poor guy.

“He did call you that because you’re a ginger,” I point out, glancing up at Darcy. “Same for me. He’s just getting the colors from a specific perspective.”

Darcy grins, leans down and kisses the top of my head. “It’s a lovely view.”

I turn to Bellamy. “See, it’s a lovely view.”

Bellamy blushes harder, and I get the impression that he doesn’t like talking about his past partners. Well, it’s possible they’re still partners, but I don’t think Darcy’s the kind of dick that would flaunt a side piece to his main man, so I’m thinking they’re probably not fucking anymore.

Bellamy turns toward the stairs, calling over his shoulder, “I’m not hungry!” and flees.

“I think I embarrassed him.” I didn’t mean to, but I had the impression that the people in this house aren’t the type to get upset over a little sex talk, so I didn’t think it would be a big deal. I’ll have to be more careful with Bellamy going forward.

Darcy laughs again. “He’s less inclined than most people to talk about his experience in the sack and more inclined to blush like he hasn’t had my cock in every available hole.”

“Being shy isn’t a character flaw,” I point out, wagging my finger at him. “Don’t embarrass him on purpose; he deserves to end his hookups with his dignity intact just like you do. I’m not going to go out of my way to humiliate you when I’m done with you.”

Woah, that sounds really wrong coming out of my mouth. I don’t think I’m ever going to be done with him, and that’s a violation of the parameters he’s already set up. Huh. Gonna have to work on that.

“Bellamy deserves to have you respect his limits. Don’t embarrass him because he’s cute when he blushes, and I think you should ask if he wants you to stop calling him Red now that he knows why you do it.” I am also going to take my own advice and work on respecting Darcy’s boundaries. I don’t get to keep him.

That thought turns sour in my head, but until he tells me this isn’t temporary, I’m going to have to act like the thought of giving him up doesn’t make me want to tie him to one of these tables.

Darcy considers my words for a couple of seconds before grudgingly replying, “I’ll ask.”