Way to stab the knife in, kid. Apollo nodded. “I’m sorry. But I’m here now, and you need to sleep. It’s the best thing for a little virus like this.”
Truth be told, even their minor fevers had him on edge, but he’d already had a call into the advice nurse who told him a bug was going around and to push fluids and give it a day or two to pass, but call back if they got worse. But what was worse? Apollo hated this. In the Navy almost everything was quantifiable, discrete variables that told him how to act. Kid stuff was like driving around with no map and a blind driver with a backseat full of poodles.
“I don’t wanna sleep. Not without Dylan.”
Hell, now Apollo was almost ready to cry alongside her. “There’s been a big problem at work,” he tried to explain, knowing that a five-year-old was unlikely to care. “A lot of hurt people. And Baba’s been needed there. But I’ve missed you. Just like I’m sure Dylan’s missing you right now.”
“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.