Chapter 15

"Will, you don't have to go."

My boy, damn, I loved saying that, sat at the kitchen island looking miserable. He'd tried everything to get out of his family day, and it wasn't working.

"You call me Daddy, and I am going. There's going to be food there, and I like food. Do you want me to starve at your house? There are only groceries here when I bring them. How do you not starve to death? Why don't you go grocery shopping?" This morning was mostly about giving him shit, but the last part was a real question. I saw his smirk when I told him to call me Daddy. He was feisty today.

"When I'm hungry, I eat out or stop at Harris Grocery." My mouth dropped at that one. Was this guy made of money eating out every day and getting to-go from the deli? Beckett saw my look and scrubbed his hand over his face. "I've tried to cook, and I fuck it up. It's way cheaper to do this than buy groceries, burn them, and then go eat. It saves me like half."

"Insanity. I'm going to teach you to cook."

"Your recipes are too complicated, and I like the way you cook. And you like to cook for me because you're my Daddy." Beckett got up from his chair and came into the kitchen with me. He dropped his hands to my waist and nuzzled my neck. I almost melted right there in the kitchen. I'd give him credit. Beckett was working all the angles this morning.

When he nipped at my earlobe and then licked that sensitive spot behind it, my entire body shuddered. Over the last week, Beckett had come out of his shell with me. Sometimes, like now, he'd whine and cajole, trying to get something out of me. I understood the dance we were playing. He wanted to push, and he needed me to stand firm. Beckett needed to feel that authority, even if it was minimal, to know that my protection was there. If I actually gave in, we both knew he'd be disappointed.

After Cameron interrupted our breakfast, we'd sat and talked about the night before. We'd started in the living room but had migrated upstairs to the loft, where Beckett's library housed most of his books and where he felt the most comfortable. We'd discussed boundaries—he loves being called boy in bed and hates it outside of it—and safewords—traffic lights because life should be easy. At the beginning of our talk, we'd sat next to each other on the couch because it was an important talk about important things. By the end, I was sprawled over him, and he clutched me like a teddy bear.

After that, we ended up in the same position every time I came over. I'd fix dinner, he'd clean up by himself because apparently I did it in the wrong order and it hurt his soul, and then we'd end up in the library. It usually ended with Beckett reading his book and me listening to a podcast. The first couple of times, I started in the chair, and he was on the sofa, but we eventually cut out the middle man. Now, I just climbed into his lap from the beginning.

Beckett liked my blanket impression, and I liked hugging a warm mountain. His lap was rapidly becoming my favorite spot in the world. I kinda sorta loved how we were making our own rules for whatever this thing was between us. The Daddy police wouldn't bust down my door because I wrapped myself around him instead of the other way around.

"Baby, you aren't going to distract me, and we are going. The only way I'm not going is if you tell me that you are staying home and we go back to bed for an exchange of morning blowjobs. Is that what is happening?" My face had a quizzical look, and his was crestfallen.

"Ugh, no. I'd never fucking hear the end of it."

"Then we are both going. Get your shoes on, and let's get this shitshow on the road."

I grabbed my dessert contribution of an enormous tiramisu and waited for him to finish getting dressed. Beckett claimed it was super casual, so it didn't matter what I wore, which, honestly, was batshit crazy. I was meeting, except for Cameron and a few cousins briefly the other day, his family for the first time, so it mattered. I went with loafers, a decent pair of slacks, and a nice henley. Beckett wore board shorts, boat shoes that looked like they had been regurgitated by a kraken, and a sweatshirt advertising fishing gear. Whatever. I wasn't his mother, and my baby looked hot in anything.

We loaded ourselves, along with the dessert, into Beckett's truck and headed over to Cameron's parents' place. They were in a rural area of the island that had been mostly cleared of timber. The two-story farmhouse sat on a few acres of land, with a picket fence along the perimeter. It was well-kept, and the late-season garden of root vegetables was tidy. There were a few trees in groves, but mostly, it was open.

Surprisingly, the weather had cooperated, and the sun was out. Plenty of cars and trucks were already lined up along the driveway. Kids ran between the cars and dared anyone to run them over. The adults looked like they were setting up tables, chairs, and cornhole. Beckett found a place to park, which I noticed also provided easy access for leaving, and killed the engine.

He turned to me with sad eyes and asked, "You sure you want to do this? It's not too late to change your mind."

"Baby, if you're here, then I'm here. Your Daddy's gonna protect you." Beckett snorted like I expected him to, and we both climbed out of the cab. "Remember, I gotcha," I said to him as we approached the stairs, and because he was sexy as hell, I grabbed his shirt, pulled him down to my eye level, and gave him a firm kiss. He stared at me in shock and then gave me one right back.

When we got to the doors, Beckett turned the knob to enter, with me following close behind with my tiramisu. All eyes in the living room turned to look at us. I gave my brightest smile and Beckett remained stone-faced. A tall woman with angular features and a sharp glare marched over. It was aggressive.

"Beckett, I had no idea you were bringing a guest. I hope there's enough for everyone." Beckett rolled his eyes.

"Mom, there's enough to feed six armies. It'll be fine." He turned to me and guided me closer with a hand on the elbow. "Mom, this is my friend, Will." Oh, I'm a friend now. "Will, my mom, Marjorie." Beckett and I would be discussing our friendship later, but I gave his mother my brightest smile. "Nice to meet you, Marjorie."

"Yes, you too. Please call me Mrs. Hagen." Marj, because that was all she'd ever be to me from now until hell froze over, sniffed in my general direction.

"Mom, please don't." I could hear the tension bleed through Beckett's voice, and I promised myself I wouldn't antagonize his mother, no matter how much she deserved it. Since I was still holding it, I shoved the dessert at her and then pushed Beckett in a different direction so I could keep my stupid vow.

"Beckett, let's go look at the garden. I'm thinking of expanding mine." I drag him away and out the front door. We wandered in the direction of the plants lined up with military precision. I wanted to ask what her deal was, but it also seemed rude to talk shit about someone's mom five seconds after you met her. I settled on silence, and so did Beckett.

"Are you really thinking about making your garden bigger?"

"Meh. I've thought about it, but with all the shade, it would be difficult. There are some veggies that would accept partial shade, but my yard is mostly full shade because of the trees. I have thought about planting edible flowers because there are more options."

We walked around in companionable silence, and Beckett gingerly took my hand. It surprised me, but I wasn't going to miss this opportunity, so I laced our fingers together.

"I'm sorry my mom was rude to you." I squeezed his fingers, and I hoped he got my silent message. His mom, rude or not, had no impact on how I felt about him. "I wish we didn't have to go back inside."

"We don't. We can stay out here until it's time to go, and your mom can just be mad about it."

Beckett gave me a baleful look and tugged me back toward the house. At the last second, he veered around the side toward the backyard instead of the front door. As we rounded the corner, I saw one of those fancy wooden play structures set up to look like a pirate ship, along with some other kid stuff. It was impressive.

"Who has kids? I didn't realize Cameron did."

"He doesn't. None of the first cousins do, but the extended family does. It's from when we were kids, but they left it up. I think it's mostly wishful thinking on their part." Beckett had a wistful tone himself.

"Do you want kids?" I asked him. He ducked his head and looked away.

"I wouldn't want my kids to have a fucked-up parent. To hear them tell it, I can't stop screwing up now. Can you imagine what it would be like with a kid?" Beckett sounded more than just sad. He sounded sorrowful. These fucking people managed to piss me off a little more.

"You'd be an incredible dad, and they can suck a bag of dicks." How did his parents not see how fucking incredible he was?

"Tuck it back in there, killer."

"Killer? I think you mean Daddy," I whispered in his ear. The man practically clutched his pearls. He looked so shocked. It was cute.

Beckett and I escaped to the den, where a football game blared from the TV. It was too loud to hold a conversation, and no one wanted to be in there anyway. I wished I had thought to sneak Beckett's Kindle and some earbuds out of his house because the agitation radiated from him as he sat stiffly beside me. The best I could do was grip his hand as we sat together on the couch.

"Hey, Beckett, I'm sorry again about calling you out to the Rutledge place," Jonas called from across the room. He'd grabbed the remote from the table and turned down the volume when he said it. Suddenly, everyone in the room was interested in the potential gossip.

"Eh, it's fine. We have one less suspicious thing, I guess. Did they actually know each other?"

"I don't think so, but maybe?" Jonas shrugged and threw up his hands. "They made it weird."

Cam decided to butt in because he's Cam. "Hey, is that the guy you didn't want to arrest because trespassing isn't a real crime?"

I glared at Cameron, and he smiled. Goddammit.

"That's not what I said to him. What I said was that it was a cite-and-release charge, which it is."

Beckett didn't need to defend himself. That kid had needed a break, and Rutledge must have seen it too.

Cameron was just getting started. "But how would you know? You barely passed the academy. Chief had to give you a job just so you could save face on the island."

Beckett rolled his eyes, told Cameron to shut up, and gave him the finger for good measure. One of the uncles decided to pick up the mantle. "I heard Beckett was too busy with his romance novels to pay attention. I'm surprised they let folks read soft-core porn in public."

Beckett's response was more subdued and less combative this time, and his ears turned burning red. "That was one day because I wanted to finish it. Reading books like that before a big test helps clear my mind. That was right before our written final."

Marj swept into the room at the sound of our voices. "What trouble are you causing, Beckett?" Next to me, he stiffened, and it was painfully obvious when Beckett sunk in on himself.

"They're just fucking with me." He'd said it to his mom but looked at me.

"Do not use language like that with me. It's bad enough that you have the vocabulary of someone in junior high, but I certainly don't need to hear it." The rest of the family laughed like it was a joke. "Don't go anywhere though," Marj continued as she backed out of the room, "your dad wants to speak with you."

Beckett sat beside me with the expression of a condemned man walking toward the gallows. The relatives in the den hooted and laughed that he was going to get it now.

Beckett's dad stomped into the room and his gaze narrowed in on Beckett. "So now the policy of the AIPD is to just let people go? There are plenty of ways to stop trespassers that don't involve letting ‘em go so they can bother someone else. That goddamn chief of yours doesn't know a fucking thing about how to run a department."

Beckett got his bulk from his dad, but that's where the resemblance ended. His father had beady eyes and his scowling mouth projected his meanness. It was obvious he got away with significantly more bullshit than he should.

"Dad, the property owner said it was a misunderstanding. Why would I arrest the kid?" Beckett didn't sound angry, just tired.

The rest of his useless relatives just hung around to enjoy the show and made comments about how popcorn was required for a show this good. Good ole Marj popped back into the room to frown at Beckett.

"I expect my son, the police officer, to act like one." Cameron was in the corner, guffawing like a loon at that comment.

Beckett's dad spied our linked fingers. "Who the hell is this guy? What the fuck, Beckett! Have some decency…there are children here," his dad spat out.

Beckett visually steeled himself before responding. "This is Will, my friend. We aren't doing anything indecent. We are sitting here watching the game just like everyone else in the room."

"Straight men don't sit that damn close to each other," his dad shot back with a snarl.

"Dad, stop. You know I'm not straight," Beckett sounded so lost.

"Enough. What the hell is wrong with all of you?" I yelled as I jumped up from the couch. I was pissed, and I didn't care that these people claimed to be his family.

Beckett was the butt of their jokes, and I was sick of their shit. Cameron was his partner and ought to have his back. The way Marj and her asshole husband acted, you'd think they hated their own kid. It was fucking gross.

I zeroed in on Mr. Hagen's face. "You will not speak to Beckett like that. He's a damn good cop, a kick-ass boyfriend, and fan-fucking-tastic human. Keep his name out of your mouth if you have nothing but shit to say." His dad's mouth dropped open like a fish gasping for air.

I turned on my heel and stalked over to Cameron. He tried to stand from his chair, but my furious glare had slinking back down. "And you. You are his fucking partner, and you're gonna let this asshole talk to him like that? What the fuck, Cameron!"

"No one takes Uncle Lindsey's bitching seriously, and the rest of us are just joking." Cameron held up his hands in surrender, but I didn't give a shit. I was pissed, and absolving themselves by claiming it was all a big joke wasn't going to cut it.

"Beckett, I'd very much like to leave. Will you please take me? These people really can eat that bag of dicks I mentioned earlier and choke on them, but not my tiramisu, and it is fucking delicious."