*
“See, ‘maybe’ is great.” Dustin clapped Apollo on the shoulder and handed him a beer. Dustin didn’t often come across as condescending, unlike a lot of people in Apollo’s life who seemed to think that grief had whittled thirty points off his IQ, but right then, Dustin was totally skirting the line between best friend and annoying cheerleader. “Just think about it.”
“I’ll see,” Apollo allowed and Dylan smiled. He had full lips and when his mouth curved, his whole face transformed, joy and hope practically radiating from those sparkling blue eyes. Man, the hope part was hard to take. Apollo’s back stiffened. It didn’t matter what Dustin said, Dylan had no good reason for wanting to spend the summer with Apollo and the girls, and that old crush was bound to cause trouble when Dylan finally realized that Apollo was a grumpy old bastard now. And whatever patience Apollo had had for the hero worship eight years ago was long gone.
“Sorry we’re late!” The sliding glass door to the house opened as a group of four of Apollo’s friends came out onto the patio. Today was a relatively small gathering—often his barbecues would be filled with his teammates and their spouses and kids. But he didn’t exactly have a team anymore, not with his assignment to SEAL training, and like with Bridget at the store, most of his friends could be counted on for sympathetic smiles and well-meaning platitudes. It was easier to stick to his closest friends, the ones who knew better than to bring up Neal.
“We lost track of time.” Zack’s shit-eating grin left no mistake about exactly what had delayed them. His red-haired boyfriend at least had the grace to blush, but Pike didn’t look too repentant in the slightest as he set what looked like a bowl of potato salad on the table.
“I don’t want to leave bed. Not ever.” Neal’s voice echoed in Apollo’s mind. So many lazy weekend mornings before kids, forgetting to eat until well past noon. They’d been the ones always late once upon a time, every bit as sappy and in love as Zack and Pike. Apollo’s stomach clenched and he had to look away.
“We don’t have that excuse.” Ben’s hearty laugh echoed as he and Maddox joined the group. “This one wanted to bake muffins for y’all. Took two batches.”
“Hey! I said not to say anything about that.” Maddox set down a tray filled with some sort of fruity muffins. Maddox’s soft voice completely belied the fact that this was one of the Navy’s best snipers. Baking muffins, indeed. Even Apollo had to chuckle at that. “Perfection takes time. That’s all.”
“It’s muffins, not the Mona Lisa.” Ben shook his head. Thank God, those roommates didn’t have the domestic bliss of Pike and Zack. Ben was still smarting from a divorce and Maddox was...well, Maddox.
“Hey, hold up. We’re being rude,” Maddox waved in the direction of Dylan. “Who’s the new guy?”
“Oh hello.” Ben got about ninety degrees more charming, flashing a smile and extending a hand to Dylan as he took it on himself to introduce the group.
“Who needs drinks?” Dustin asked after the introductions were done.
“Me.” Pike followed Dustin back into the house, Zack trailing along like he couldn’t stand being separated from his boyfriend even for a beer run.
“I’m going to see if your mom needs help.” Maddox gave Apollo a nod and Dylan a smile that while far more subtle, was no less interested than the ones Ben had been flashing around. Fuck.
“Dylan. Come see!” Chloe wandered over from doing somersaults on the grass, tugging Dylan away to see her and Sophia do a “show,” which was their favorite game, thanks to his mom’s love of reality music and talent shows.
Apollo went to the grill to check the meat, but Ben followed, keeping his voice low. “Remind me to thank Dustin. Profusely.”
“I think he’d call you out if you go there,” Apollo said mildly even as his jaw tightened.
“But the kid does play on our team, right? I’m not wrong there?”
“You’d have to ask him,” Apollo hedged, even though he knew from Dustin that Dylan was out to his family and active in LGBTQ groups.
“Oh I plan to.” Ben’s voice was only too eager.
“And don’t forget the kid part,” Apollo warned.
“Oh he’s not that young.” Ben gave Apollo a knowing smile. He was only a couple of years younger than Apollo, but ever since his divorce, he’d had a taste for subby young things. And no way was Apollo going to think of Dylan in that light or question whether his tastes ran in that direction. Maybe the kid was a top for all they knew...
Nope. Don’t go there. Yeah. Not ever thinking about sex and Dylan in the same thought bubble.
Laughter carried across the yard, where instead of simply watching the girls Dylan had been talked into joining in some silly dance that had all three of them laughing.
He’s really good with them. Since Apollo was the only one of the group with kids, his friends usually didn’t know what to do with the girls—alternating between ignoring them and good-natured indulgence. But Dylan got right in there and played, something Apollo himself struggled with.
Even Neal had been a quiet soul, not one for loud playing, but so full of love and compassion... Apollo pushed that thought aside because dwelling on what an amazing dad Neal had been inevitability led to a wave of fresh amputation-level pain.
The others came back, bearing more food and plates. His mother arranged everything in a buffet line, instructing the guys where to find extra chairs and rounding up the kids. Apollo loaded the finished meat onto a fresh platter and added it to the table.
Dylan ended up sitting between Maddox and Ben, because of course he did, but at least Dustin was sitting close enough that Apollo didn’t feel the need to go police what was sure to be some flirting worthy of the movies his mother favored. And besides, Apollo was occupied cutting up meat for the girls and arranging their plates the way they liked them—nothing touching and a big pool of ketchup in the center.
“They could probably handle a whole hot dog now.” His mother observed as she fixed her own plate.
“Last thing we need is choking.” Apollo sliced slightly bigger pieces before handing the girls their plates. “And I don’t mind fixing their plates.”
Truth be told, he kind of liked it. He still wasn’t used to the two of them sitting side by side on the picnic bench, no booster seats in sight, real little people.
“Hey, Apollo,” Maddox called. “We were just talking. If Dylan can’t stay here, Ben and I could rearrange some stuff, see if he could stay with us.”
Hah. Apollo knew the “rearranging stuff” would undoubtedly include jockeying for whether Dylan shared Ben’s bed or Maddox’s by summer’s end and just...no. Something angry and surprisingly protective unfurled in his gut.