“A game?” Sophia perked up.
“Yeah. Let’s pretend we’re giant trash trucks eating up all the mess!” Dylan summoned a last burst of energy, because damn, it had been a long day, and it wasn’t over yet. Apollo’s sheet with the bedtime routine had cleaning followed by pajamas and stories, and Dylan tried to stick to it even though drama over needing to find Kitty the Elephant pushed them thirty minutes behind schedule.
“Dylan?” Chloe said sleepily from her side of the room as Dylan closed the story book.
“Yeah, pumpkin?”
“I’m glad you’re here.” She cuddled Bee Baby closer and shut her eyes.
“I’m glad I’m here too.” Dylan’s throat felt wrapped in wet wool. Please don’t let me mess things up for this family. “Sleep tight.”
*
Apollo groaned as he hefted himself out of the car. He’d left for base at oh-six-hundred, and while sixteen-hour days were hardly anything new for him, he was still beat. Working for SEAL operations was different than being out with his team, and he was still getting used to the changed routine. Fewer runs, less time in the grinder, no more challenges and inter-team contests. Instead, he was the one helping to devise the training exercises that all teams relied on, and that meant long days of meetings, triple-checking logistics, and being ready to explain when things didn’t go according to plan.
He opened the door to the house carefully, prepared to pick up a line of toys littering the entryway. But to his surprise, the entry was clear, and the living room looked like the twins hadn’t even played in there, everything back in its place. A quick peek upstairs revealed two girls sleeping in a room that had clearly been picked up before bed, stuffed animals and dolls in a neat line on the shelves.
Huh. Well that certainly meant less cleaning time. Now he could just focus on the kitchen before bed. But the kitchen wasn’t empty, and it certainly wasn’t the mess Apollo had expected. Instead, the counter and table gleamed and the sink was empty. Dylan had earbuds in and was sweeping the floor, a little smile on his face as he nodded along with whatever he was listening to.
Apollo cleared his throat loudly, narrowly missing bumping into Dylan.
“Oh! You’re home.” Dylan yanked his earbuds out. “Emergency handled?”
Apollo nodded because he really couldn’t say more than that. All the training-related work he did was strictly confidential, and as much as he might like to bitch about a jump training exercise where everything short of injury that could go wrong had gone wrong, he kept his mouth shut.
“You couldn’t tell me if it was all FUBAR, could you?” Dylan laughed. The kid had clearly picked up some SEAL lingo from his brother. “But thanks for telling me it wasn’t Dustin’s team.”
“I knew you’d worry.” Apollo opened the fridge. Everything was back in its place, with the exception of a dinner plate covered with plastic wrap. Big portion of lasagna, steamed broccoli, and a slice of bread. “This mine?”
“Yeah.” Dylan took the plate from him. “Let me heat it up for you. Want a beer?” He gestured at a half-drank bottle of Heineken on the counter. “I know I needed one after chasing—”
“You were home alone and you drank? What if one of the girls had gotten sick? Or there was an emergency—”
“Chill.” Dylan got right in his face, clearly not cowed by his anger. “I know you have the overprotective thing going, but give me a little credit. I had two huge servings of your lasagna—really good meat sauce by the way—and I’ve been nursing half a beer while I cleaned. After the kids were asleep, I might add. I doubt my BAC is more than strong mouthwash at this point. I’m twenty-three now, not fifteen and sneaking a beer. Dustin and your other friends had several beers each at the barbecue, and I didn’t see you wringing your hands about whether they should drive.”
Apollo stared at Dylan. Like really looked at him, maybe for the first time. Not in the guilty, I-shouldn’t-find-you-so-attractive way nor in the you-look-like-a-memory way, but in the who-are-you way because maybe all this time he’d been seeing an assumption and not a real guy. Broad shoulders and sturdy torso, he packed the muscle on. No one would accuse him of being skinny anymore. Hardworking hands and ropey forearms. He could make it through boot camp, no issue. Light brown hair with curls that looked like Dylan had scrubbed at his head, probably while trying to get the girls to listen. Tired blue eyes. Strong jaw. Obstinate tilt to his chin. Adult. Absolutely 100 adult, all traces of the kid Apollo once knew gone.
“You’re right,” Apollo said slowly. “Zack’s your age. Doesn’t bug me when he drinks.”
“Is it because he’s a SEAL and I’m just the babysitter?” Dylan still hadn’t backed down. Man, he was something when he got all fired up. Fearless the way he just lit into him—few would dare that.
“No.” Apollo leaned against the counter. “It’s more that I feel responsible for you—”
“Well, stop.” The microwave dinged and Dylan took Apollo’s plate out, set it on a pot holder. “Here’s your dinner.”
“Thanks.” Apollo took the plate. God, he really was a first-class grump these days. “I’m sorry, okay? I was rude. It’s just...my girls...”
“They’re everything to you. I get it.” Dylan’s tone was far gentler now, and he patted Apollo’s arm. “But I’m here to help, okay? Make things easier on you, not harder.”
“You do.” Apollo gestured at his food. “Making me a plate was nice. And you didn’t have to clean.”
“Hey, you make it easy. I just follow your system.” Dylan gestured at the binder that Apollo’s mom only grudgingly ever opened. Even Neal, disloyal as it felt to think about it, had scoffed at some of Apollo’s methods.
“You don’t think I’m too... I don’t know...anal?”
“You really want me thinking about you and anal in the same sentence?” Dylan’s grin was utter mischief.
“You know what I mean.” Apollo resisted the urge to tell him to behave and took a bite of his food instead.
“Yeah. I know what you mean. And no, I don’t think you’re too organized. I love it, actually. My parents, God love them, are great people but they’re both so into their careers. Nothing at Mom’s house has a place, and Dad’s always running late and losing shit. I tend to get all scattered myself. I like having your system to follow. It’s like on the soccer field—I like improvising, but I also like when coach calls a play, and I know what spot to get to.”
“My mom’s a lot like your parents—doesn’t see the need for my system.” Apollo liked how Dylan had called it that, like it was a positive. “But my dad was always into cleaning and everything being in its place. One of the few things I remember about him.”