CHAPTER 88: COWARD

Chapter 87

Jack

"When did you get so large, hmmn?" I lift Lanny high above me, his little feet kicking like he’s trying to take flight. He lets out a bubbly laugh, the kind that squeezes your heart in a way that almost hurts because it’s so pure.

I grin up at him, and for a moment everything else blurs out — it’s just me and this tiny, chubby-cheeked human who somehow made everything in my life make sense.

"Look at those teeth," I murmur, squinting at his gummy little grin. Four tiny teeth. Four. That’s enough to end me. I swear, sometimes I think cuteness aggression is going to be the death of me.

"Ahhh," I groan dramatically, pulling him down against my chest, hugging him close like I might never let go.

"Wawawalawalawaa..." he coos, face half buried against my shoulder.

"’Walalawawa’ to you too, buddy," I reply solemnly, as if we’ve just exchanged state secrets.

God, he’s growing up so fast. It feels like just yesterday he was a bundle of warmth who could barely open his eyes. Now, if you so much as blink, he’s halfway across the living room trying to crawl into danger like it’s a sport.

Too fast.

Way too fast.

I snort remembering the great stove panic of a weekago. We all swore he’d somehow gotten into the stove. Rationally? Impossible. But rationality didn’t stop all three of us from sprinting around like our lives depended on it.

As a direct result, this house now has more CCTV coverage than a bloody high-security vault. All because my son once wiggled in the wrong direction.

"Yeah, you little chaos goblin," I mutter fondly, bouncing him lightly. He smacks my chest with his tiny hand — a personal favorite of his.

And this moment... this quiet, ordinary moment — it’s everything I ever wanted. A home. A partner. Well, two partners. A family. A space where my heart doesn’t feel like it has to fight to breathe.

Only... there’s one small problem.

The tension between the two of them.

It’s not like they’re fighting. No, that would be easier, actually. You can address a fight. Break it down, fix it.

But this? This awkward, unspoken, careful dance they’ve started doing around each other? It’s suffocating.

I can feel it in the way Nolan hovers at the edge of the room now, like he doesn’t quite know where to fit anymore. In the way Ciel goes quiet whenever Nolan’s near, as though one wrong word might shatter something fragile between them.

They’re still them — still laughing, still part of this messy little family. But it’s like there’s a space between them that didn’t exist before.

I press a kiss to the top of Lanny’s head, breathing in the soft scent of baby powder and warm skin. He makes a small sleepy noise, his cheek pressed to my collarbone.

This is what I always dreamed of. A life where I could love and be loved, openly, wildly. Where I could hold my child in one arm and see the people I love in the other.

But dreams don’t run on their own.

And this silence between them? It’s a crack. A small one, yes. But left alone, cracks spread.

I bounce Lanny gently as I stare out at the sunlight pooling through the windows, and the thought takes root like a quiet promise.

I’m not letting this family break before it’s even properly built.

Not on my watch.

***

Nolan

"Wait up."

I turn around, the laundry basket balanced awkwardly in my hands, just in time for Jack’s mouth to crash against mine.

Warm. Familiar. Infuriating.

His hand slides around the back of my neck, tilting my head up just enough for the kiss to deepen. It’s quick but it’s not—because it leaves me breathless, slightly dazed, and painfully aware of how unfair it is that he can just do this.

When he pulls away, there’s that infuriating little smirk on his face. "Couldn’t help it."

I arch an eyebrow at him, trying to keep my face neutral when my heart’s already doing that stupid flutter thing in my chest. "I think you’re just a pervert."

And of course, because he’s Jack, his hand immediately slides down and squeezes my ass.

He gasps—loud, dramatic, ridiculous. "Don’t you put the blame on me when you walk around flaunting your assets."

"My assets?!" I yelp, stepping back. "I’m a man!"

He grins like a cat who’s just cornered a very flustered mouse. "Exactly. And those assets?" He gestures shamelessly, eyes trailing over me like he’s appraising the produce aisle.

"Grade A. Chest. Ass. All of it."

I swear my face might actually combust on the spot.

This fucking bastard would never say this shit to Ciel.I asked him once — why he’s always teasing me and not him.

"Well, you guys are different,"

he’d said. "I’ve got a feeling my sunshine’s had a lifetime of people treating him like he’s a body first and a person second. I’m not about to be one more. You though, little doggy? You like it when I get under your skin."

He was right. The bastard. And I may have fallen a little I love with him when he said that too.

"Fucking asshole," I mutter under my breath, trying to shoulder past him.

He chuckles low in his chest, the sound annoyingly pleased with itself. "I know you like it!"

I don’t bother answering. I just turn, flip him the middle finger, and keep walking with the stupidest smile fighting its way onto my face.

I hate him.

I don’t hate him.

I hate that I don’t hate him.

I’m still grinning like an idiot when I step into the laundry room. And then—

"Oh. Hey."

Ciel.

He’s standing right there, holding a pile of towels like the universe decided to test the limits of my awkwardness today.

"Hi." he says, quiet, not quite meeting my eyes.

And just like that, the air shifts. Heavy. Hesitant. Too full of things we’re both pretending not to feel.

"Doing laundry," he says, because apparently we’ve both forgotten how to speak like normal people.

"Uhm... yeah," I mumble, clutching the basket like it’s a shield.

A beat of silence. Too long. Too thick. It’s the same silence that’s been sitting between us since that day.

He clears his throat softly. "Well. Later."

"Later," I echo, but it comes out too soft, almost unsure.

I watch him walk away, his hair catching the light, a little messy from the wind, and my chest twists painfully.

I hate this chasm between us. I hate the way we’ve gone from laughter and easy teasing to this heavy, brittle thing.

But I’m too much of a coward to bridge it.