Page 102 of Stealing Home

Dom nodded and tipped his face up. Gavin’s lips brushed his, then pressed a little more firmly. His thumb moved slowly along the side of Dom’s neck. Dom started to draw back, but Gavin slipped his other arm around his waist. The small space between them closed, and Dom’s hands slid around to Gavin’s back. He kissed him again, his fingers spreading over warm skin.

When Gavin finally lifted his head, Dom chased him far enough that their noses bumped, and Gavin laughed against his mouth.

“Good morning,” Gavin murmured.

Dom opened his eyes and gave him a kiss-drunk smile. “That was better.”

“Than what?”

“Just about everything.”

Gavin’s thumb went still against his neck, and Dom felt the heat climb into his cheeks as their gazes met.

Gavin gave him a soft smile, then kissed him once more before picking up his coffee mug. Dom stayed where he was and rested his head on Gavin’s shoulder. A happy squeal came from Lucia’s swing, and Dom pulled back and turned to find her watching them, one bare foot waving above the edge.

“Don’t listen to her,” Gavin said. “She’s been fed and changed, and was pretty pleased with me until I tried to put her socks on.”

“That was a rookie mistake,” Dom said with a disappointed shake of his head. “I’ve told you about her war on socks.”

“Hey, I’m learning.”

Dom looked from his daughter to the mug Gavin slid toward him. He’d been getting used to doing everything himself. Now he had someone who had conversations with his daughter, knew where her bottles were, and how he took his coffee. He picked up his mug but kept his other hand resting against Gavin’s back.

He wanted this again tomorrow. The thought came so easily that, for once, he didn’t try to talk himself out of it.

Three weeks later, Gavin’s toothbrush stood beside Dom’s in the bathroom, and there were two pairs of jeans and a stack of shirts in the drawer Dom had cleared for him. Gavin had stood in front of the dresser holding the clothes Dom had washed and folded, promising to take them home. But Dom reminded him that Gavin had already forgotten to bring clean clothes twice and Dom was still waiting for him to return the shirts he’d borrowed. Not that Dom really minded. Seeing Gavin in his clothes appealed to a possessive, primitive side of him he hadn’t known existed.

Gavin had kissed him while laughing and put his clothes in the drawer.

Now, on the mornings when his baseball schedule had them home, Dom woke up with someone beside him. Sometimes Gavin was already awake, reading something on his phone with one hand absently rubbing circles on Dom’s back. Sometimes Dom got to watch him sleep for a few minutes before Lucia announced that she was ready to be served by her loyal subjects. He liked every part of it, enough that he stopped looking for excuses why he shouldn’t.

It was a rare middle-of-the-week day when Dom didn’t have a game, and he was folding Lucia’s laundry at the island when his phone rang. He glanced at the screen, expecting Gavin to be calling about dinner, but the name displayed stopped his hand halfway to the basket.

For several seconds, he stared at it.

Talia.

He hadn’t deleted her number. At first, he had needed it for the calls she didn’t answer and the messages that went unread. Even after he stopped trying, he couldn’t bring himself to erase it. That felt too much like accepting she might never care enough to ask how her daughter was doing.

Lucia slapped both hands against the mat in the playpen. Dom looked down at her, then answered.

“Hello?”

“Dom?”

Her voice was familiar enough to make his stomach turn. “Yeah.”

“It’s Talia.”

“I know.” A pause followed, and Dom set the tiny shirt he was holding on the counter.

“I’m in San Diego,” she said after a long moment.

Dom’s gaze went back to Lucia. “What do you want?”

“To talk to you.” She took a breath, and he could hear how shaky it was through the phone. “I know I should have called sooner.”

Dom said nothing.