Page 116 of Ship Happens

“Kait.” He braces his hands against her shoulders. “I want an apology, and I want to talk to you, but right now I just want to go home and shower.”

“Fair enough,” she tells him.

“Ahem.” Jacob clears his throat, arm still thrown around Abigail’s shoulder. “Are we forgetting the brother?”

The fresher air hits them as they step outside the airport; it still doesn’t feel quite real to no longer be stuck inside, not that squeezing themselves into the backseat of Kaitlyn’s Prius is that much more comfortable, but at least Owen can roll down the window.

“Oh, holy fuck, we’re home!” Jacob scoops Fitzwilliam into his arms the second they’re through the front door of Kaitlyn and Abigail’s apartment, and then falls onto the couch on his back. He might actually be asleep by the time his head hits the cushion.

“We grabbed everything we could find out of your rooms,” Abigail tells Owen.

“We remembered everyone’s shots too,” Kaitlyn continues, showing Owen the box of Humira stored in the refrigerator. “Got phones, chargers, clothes, toiletries, shoes, towels.”

“I didn’t pack any towels,” Jacob says, proving that he’s awake.

“I didn’t either.” Owen leans against the counter.

“Okay, well . . .” Kaitlyn shrugs, not a care in the world. “I guess we’ve got new towels!”

Jacob is gracious enough to let Owen shower first.

He doesn’t even bother to do it standing up. Once the water is hot enough, Owen crouches to the floor of the tub, stretching his legs out, letting the water run all over his aching joints.

It’s nice. So nice.

Owen stays for longer than he needs to, knowing that once he’s out from underneath the water, he’ll need to talk to Kaitlyn. He just wants this moment to himself, this peace, this relief on his joints. It’s nice. Eventually, though, he climbs out of the tub.

With a towel around his waist, Owen tiptoes back to his room, ignoring Kaitlyn and Abigail’s hushed voices behind their closed door. He’s so distracted trying to avoid Kaitlyn that he doesn’t even notice that Jacob is in his bed.

“Ah!” Jacob yelps when Owen lets the towel drop.

Owen yelps right back, reaching to cover his crotch. Fitzwilliam chirps from his spot on Jacob’s stomach as his own eyes are covered.

“Sorry!” Jacob apologizes swiftly. “I didn’t think you’d be naked.”

“Jesus, Jacob . . .” Owen sighs, squatting to pick up the towel. “Are you ever going to get over this?”

“Sorry,” he repeats, smiling guiltily at Owen from where he’s stretched across the pull-out. “I should’ve told you I was coming in here. Kaitlyn and Abigail started to argue.”

“About the trip?”

Jacob nods. “I didn’t really want to listen to it.”

“I can’t blame you. Now . . .” Owen kicks weakly at him. “You’re stinking up my bed, go shower.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” Jacob rolls over, letting Fitzwilliam launch off his chest and down to the end of the bed. Then he reaches out, grabbing Owen’s wrist, and in one swift move, he’s pulling Owen down to the bed to land on top of him, their faces nearly colliding as they both giggle like teenagers.

“Stop!” Owen fights back, just not that hard. “Let me go.”

“Nope!” Jacob wraps his arms tight around Owen, almost stealing the breath right out of his lungs. Owen kicks back, mostly into the mattress. Their laughter turns softer by the second, until it’s just the two of them making half-out-of-breath sounds as their eyes meet.

Before Owen realizes it, he’s leaning in, lips pressing against Jacob’s. Owen tilts his head, their noses bumping as he goes for the same angle he always does. Without thinking, Owen parts his lips, giving Jacob’s tongue all the permission it needs. It should be gross; Jacob hasn’t had a chance to brush his teeth yet.

But Owen doesn’t care.

Owen can’t stop himself from grinding into Jacob’s thigh when his hands slide down to cup Owen’s naked ass, memory flooding in from the other night as his hands pull Owen up even further. He giggles into Jacob’s kiss, pressing their foreheads together. “Really? In front of our son?”

Fitzwilliam chirps as if on cue.