“Maybe?” Hartman prompted when Brandt trailed off.
“Nothing.” His skin heated even as he made a mental note to acquire some fabric. Maybe Shane would appreciate an additional option when he was out and about with the diva. Hartman kept looking at him, so he finally went ahead and added, “Was just thinking that this material would be good for a baby carrier.”
“That’s right. Forgot you have dad brain now.” Hartman laughed as he continued to check out the stack of packs. “How’s the kid doing?”
“Wait. Wilder has a kid?” One of the younger jumpers, a kid from Montana nicknamed Bronco, made an exaggerated face, like his eyes were about to fall out. “Other than himself?”
“Fuck you.” Brandt flipped his middle finger at Bronco. “Yes, I have a baby.”
“Oops. Sorry. Didn’t think before asking. Didn’t mean to put you on the spot.” Hartman frowned.
“It’s okay. I’m not keeping her hidden.” If his buddies found out about Jewel or even about him and Shane, so be it. Life was too short to worry about big secrets.
“Got a pic?” Rich asked, coming up next to Bronco. “Cameron says she’s a cutie.”
“I...uh...” He didn’t have many actually. Taking pics didn’t come naturally to him, as he wasn’t particularly active on social media, and despite his large circle of acquaintances, he wasn’t the type to spam the group chats with pics. He’d taken one on Sunday though of Shane strumming his guitar to Jewel in her swing, thinking he’d message it to Shane so he’d see how sweet they looked together. He supposed he could show that one, but he was strangely unsure about sharing what felt like a private moment.
“No pics?” Bronco apparently wasn’t done teasing him. “What kind of dad are you?”
“Okay, okay,” he groaned, not willing to admit he was the kind of newbie father who didn’t know he was supposed to fill his camera roll with kid pictures. Fine. Let them see Shane. He’d work on getting better at picture taking, but not for Rich and Bronco. No, he wanted to get better at capturing memories for Jewel herself, so she’d have a few to look back on, not have the same lack he did.
To his surprise, when he pulled out his phone, though, there was a message waiting from Shane. He clicked it, hoping nothing was wrong, hating how his pulse sped up.
Look who’s smiling, Shane’s message read, and it had a close-up of Jewel, who indeed seemed happier than usual, gummy expression that might be generously called a smile.
“Oh. Here’s a new one.” He held out the phone so the guys could see. “Looks like she’s learning a new trick.”
“Oh, that’s a fun age.” Rich clapped him on the shoulder. “But just wait until she’s older, man. That’s the smile of a girl who is definitely gonna want a pony.”
“Or a tattoo,” Bronco added.
“I suppose we’ll see.” Certainty he hadn’t had before rushed through him. He wanted to be there to see what made her smile, to hear her wants, to tell her ink was forever and horses took a lot of hay. He still had no clue what he was doing with this dad job, but he wanted to try to get good at it. He pocketed the phone until a while later when they took a break as they wound down for the day. He walked away from the building, taking a quiet moment for himself to text Shane.
Thanks for the pic. How was practice?
Shane’s reply came before Brandt needed to head back inside. Not bad. I’m starving though. Going to start some dinner soon.
Me too. Save me some? I shouldn’t be too much longer, he texted back and was rewarded with a quick return text from Shane.
Will do. I’ll grab an apple now so we can eat together.
Yup. Brandt truly was one hundred percent domesticated now because he couldn’t wait to get home, see Jewel’s new trick and hear about Shane’s day. And that made him one hundred percent screwed.
* * *
“I’m home.”
The moment the door shut behind Brandt, Shane’s senses tingled with fresh awareness. Home. This wasn’t actually a home for either of them, more like a temporary way station, but the way Brandt said the words, all light and happy, made Shane long for something he wasn’t sure he’d ever had, even as a kid.
“Good. Food’s almost ready.” Stirring the pot of meat sauce, he tried to push that longing aside, focus back on the practical. The noodles were done and drained, and he had a bag of prepackaged salad mix for the side. This might not be home, but he could at least get them fed.
“What smells good?” Brandt came up behind him at the stove. He stood closer these days. Not precisely affectionate, but also nowhere close to just-friends distance. Then his hand came around Shane to rest on his abs, making it hard to breathe from how good Brandt felt behind him, warm and strong.