The Foster Family (46 page)

His kiss was possessive and controlling and perfect, and set the mood for the rest of the evening, which he spent completely taking me over and sinking me into sleep more deep than I’d had since we’d arrived. What we did together didn’t matter. It was how he sank me into him and kept me there, safe and completely cocooned, even from my own spiraling worries. I slept soundly and woke surrounded by him still. If Malcolm had come to bed with us, I didn’t remember, and he wasn’t there when I woke.

“Better?” Charlie asked as I stirred and looked groggily up at him.

I nodded.

He petted my cheek and smiled a lazy smile. “It’s going to be okay, you know.”

I nodded again and refused to give room in my belly for the gnawing worry.

His moved his hand over me, over my chest and shoulders, tracing my collarbone, and I closed my eyes to better feel every scrape of calluses over skin. It came to rest, finally, his fingers draped over my throat. The touch was arousing and compelling, and I stared up at him, mute and waiting.

“Today, you’re going to stay close to me,” he said, waiting for my nod of acceptance. “You’ll do whatever I need done.”

I smiled but said nothing.

“You’ll serve me, and it doesn’t matter what Nash thinks of that. This is what you need to do until you get your call. I’ll keep you safe.” He bent and kissed me and moved away again to look into my eyes. “When you feel at loose ends, you think of this”—he flexed his fingers lightly around my throat, just so I felt them there again—“and remember that you’re mine.”

I nodded, in no mood to even open my mouth. I just wanted this, what he was giving me, the peace and the silence and the calm until I was sure my life was going to be mine and not subject to doctors and meds and tests and hospitals and fear.

He smiled and kissed me deeply, and the only concession we made for the next two days to being in Nash’s home was that I didn’t follow him around naked, as I might have done at home. And to be fair, all he really did was keep me within arm’s reach and let me pour him coffee and bring him his plate at mealtimes. He puttered in the garden with me and took a lot of photos of the plants and Grey and Nash when he wasn’t in the workshop with Malcolm, and David, who hung out around the house with us and let us keep our silent peace.

The phone call, when it finally came, was exactly the news we wanted to hear. Nash let out a pleased whoop, and Charlie picked me up into his signature bear hug and kissed me senseless before handing me over to Malcolm, who did the same. Grey laughed and danced in the midst of it all, no idea what was going on, but knowing it was good. I called Lissa and Allison with the good news, and dinner that night was something I’d never experienced.

For once, this party wasn’t one I had to crash. This was a party for me, for my life and my family and my love, and there was nothing more in the world I could have asked for than to be there with the people I loved, who loved me back.

Malcolm finally revealed what he’d been working so hard on. He’d wrapped it and gave it to me to open.

“Really, it’s for both of you.” He reached and grasped Charlie’s hand. “I know it’s almost time, lover,” he said quietly, and Charlie flushed.

“Time for what?” I ripped off the paper and looked down at the gift.

It was a wooden box, very similar to the one that sat on his dresser and housed our contracts and Charlie’s collar. He wore the silver chain most of the time, as he did now, but when they played, that box was the safe place to keep it while he was dressed in his leather one.

“Oh.” I glanced at Charlie, whose flush receded behind a bright smile. “Almost time,” I said, realizing what that meant as I turned the box over. “This is beautiful.”

“Not as good as Nash’s,” Malcolm allowed.

“But fine work, just the same,” Nash said, smiling at him. “A place to keep things safe.”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“I appreciate the help,” Malcolm said, turning his attention to Nash. “Really. It’s… not something I was as lucky as Kerry to have when I was young.”

Nash smiled, and for the first time, it was a genuinely accepting expression. “You have it now, Malcolm. Kerry is my son, and that makes you family. Anything you need I can give, you ask.” He peered at Malcolm over the rims of those glasses, and I grinned to see Malcolm flush slightly, as if he was the teenager I had been when subjected to that look.

Malcolm nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Nash nodded, satisfied. “Good. Now we need dessert before Grey falls asleep in his chair.”

Like there was any danger of that happening. The sippy cup in his little fist sprayed juice over the table, then flew back toward the kitchen. No one was quick enough to stop it this time, and Grey crowed with glee as it clattered against the cabinets.

Nash rolled his eyes, David sighed and got up to clean the mess, and the rest of us tried to teach the kid to high-five.

It was so good to know that this time, I’d zigged exactly when I should have and run in the right direction at last. I looked around the rowdy table and knew. Not one of these people would ever look at me across a crowded room and turn away or leave me standing there alone to watch them walk away. Ever.

J
AIME
S
AMMS
has been writing her stories between men long enough to know better, but not nearly long enough to have told all the tales she has to tell. She splits her time between a day job that pays the bills and her writing that feeds her soul. She’s also a mom with a saint of a husband, who keeps the kids fed and clothed and homeschooled and herself on a schedule that keeps her sane. She also reviews yaoi novels for Kuriousity, http://www.kuri-ousity.com/. The three cats in residence seem to approve of this arrangement enough to warm her toes at night and keep up a supply of mice from the backyard they think the family needs for survival. Who are we to argue?

Visit her website: http://www.jaime-samms.com,

her blog: http://jaimesamms.blogspot.com, and

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