“Then call him,” Chloe demanded. “Call him and ask him where Bee Baby is.”
Oh, Apollo did not want to do this, not even a little bit, but there was nothing he wouldn’t do for his little girls, even brave contacting the guy who probably hated his guts, and rightfully so. “Okay. I’ll text—”
“No. Call.” Sophia piped up. “So he can sing to me.”
“Okay, okay.” Apollo sat on the floor with his aching back against her bed and dialed.
“Hey, whoa. Hello? Apollo?” Dylan answered the phone with a laugh that quickly turned serious. The background noise was full of clinking glasses and happy voices. Damn it, he was out at a bar and now Apollo had to disturb him. “You have to go back to base already?”
“No, not that.”
“Then what?” Dylan sounded as exasperated with Apollo’s very existence as he had all week.
“It’s the girls. They’re both sick—”
“I’m on my way.”
“No, wait. We just need to know where Bee Baby is... You don’t need to give up your night.”
“Dylan? I miss you,” Chloe called weakly from her bed.
“I’m on my way,” Dylan repeated, more firmly this time, then hung up.
Great. Now Apollo wasn’t sure whether to be relieved that the cavalry was coming to save his sorry ass or dread having to interact with Dylan, even for the girls’ sake. And the part of him that wanted to see Dylan for himself? The part that wanted Dylan to tell him that it would be okay and that he was doing a good job? Well, that part could stay hidden, thank you very much. Last thing Dylan wanted or needed was to deal with Apollo and all these inconvenient feelings he kept having.
*
Making fast apologies at the bar, Dylan sped home. Wait. Not home. Apollo’s house. He’d been doing a ton of thinking all week, ever since Ben and Maddox’s and the weird setup. Thank God, the other guy, Isaiah, hadn’t been remotely into him in anything other than a friendly way, saving him any awkwardness, but watching Ben try to sidestep Isaiah’s flirting had been a good distraction. And between Isaiah and Maddox, it was a damn good lesson in how one couldn’t force a person to return feelings.
Not that Dylan needed much reinforcement. Apollo hadn’t made even the slightest move to talk things out beyond being uber-polite about arranging for the girls’ care. The nights Apollo was home, there might be only a few feet of drywall between then, but there might as well have been the whole Cascade mountain range for all the closeness he felt.
But even Apollo’s ghosting him couldn’t keep him away if the girls were sick. And damn it to hell, try as he might, he couldn’t help worrying about Apollo too. Apollo was overprotective of the girls on a good day—he must be freaking out. But when Dylan let himself into the house, he was met with silence. And an uncharacteristically messy kitchen—pot of pasta sauce that had boiled over and a congealed nasty mass of spaghetti along with what looked like a hastily scrubbed spot on the floor.
Dylan cleaned up as he went on a hunt for the Bee Baby doll, throwing out the food, putting the pots on to soak, and getting out the cleaner for a better try at the floor stain, all the while racking his brain about where he’d seen the doll. Then he glanced up from the floor, only to discover her at the dining room table, stuffed in one of the table’s drawers to make it look like she was sitting at the table.
“There you are!” Dylan had to laugh at himself, talking to a doll, as he quickly finished with the floor and tiptoed upstairs.
He’d thought he might find the girls asleep, but what he found instead was Apollo asleep on the floor of their room, one hand on Sophia’s bed, the other under his head, snoring softly. Both girls were watching him, Chloe singing a lullaby in low tones.
“Hey, pumpkins,” Dylan whispered. He handed Chloe the doll. “Looking for this?”
“Bee Baby!”
“Sssh,” Dylan reminded her. “Did you guys break Baba?”
“Maybe.” Sophia looked far more concerned about this than Chloe. “Think he’ll ever wake up?”
“Yes,” Apollo groaned and hefted himself into a sitting position. “F—fudge. Now I’m covered in carpet lint. But hi. And thanks for coming.”
“No problem.” Dylan tried not to admire Apollo’s bare torso as he made a shooing gesture with his hand. “You go shower the dust off, and I’ll get these ladies to sleep.”
“Good luck with that. You sure?” Apollo hesitated in the doorway.
“Yes. I’m here to help. Now go. We’ve got songs to sing.” Dylan moved next to Sophia’s bed and started in on one of the silly songs he’d made up for them.
A half hour or so later, he crept from their room, sighing at how hoarse his throat was from singing. For two feverish kids, they certainly had resisted rest like champs. He found a glassy-eyed Apollo in the kitchen, staring into the fridge.
“I have no idea whether I’m hungry,” he said as Dylan came into the kitchen. “Man, what a night.”
“You’re hungry.” Dylan shoved him in the direction of the stools at the island separating the kitchen and dining space. “I’ll make you a toasted cheese sandwich. Something that won’t be too awful if you get the bug too.”
“Don’t even think that,” Apollo groaned as Dylan grabbed the bread and cheese from the fridge. “Last thing I need is to get sick. And I mean last thing. My mom’s back tomorrow, but I can’t afford any sick time, not with work the way it is right now.”
“Is it still crazy? Any news on the injured SEALs?” Dylan placed a skillet on the stove to preheat while he made the sandwich.
“Not much I can tell you, sorry, but the doctors think they are all going to make it, which is good. Our investigation will be ongoing for some time.”
“All the more reason to let me help you tonight. And I can pick up your mother if necessary,” he offered, even though that was likely to be an awkward dance of avoiding revealing what had happened during her absence.
“I might need to take you up on that.” Apollo rubbed at his eyes. “Hate needing help.”
“I know.” Dylan put the sandwich in the pan and crossed to stand behind Apollo. “But sometimes we all need help.”
Unable to resist the need to help ease the man’s utter exhaustion, he started rubbing Apollo’s shoulders. Instead of squirming away as he’d expected, Apollo leaned into the touch, rolling his back muscles.
“God, that feels good.” Apollo tipped his head back. “Thank you.”
There was a world of meanings behind that look and those words, and Dylan wasn’t sure he was up to unpacking them all. One of Apollo’s hands snaked up to touch Dylan’s jaw and he was lost, unable to reason beyond dipping his head and brushing his lips over Apollo’s.
The kiss was more ravenous than sweet, like they’d both been starving all week and this was the first crumb they’d uncovered. Apollo’s hands held him close even as he shifted so the angle was less back breaking. The kiss was everything he’d been craving—catharsis for a week of worry and uncertainty.