Ram Remy (Providence Family Ties 4)

Given that Toby wasn’t feeling well, I poured tepid water into a sterile bottle, put half an inch of apple juice in with it, and shook it. Mom had told me about this trick she’d discovered when we were little, and damn if she wasn’t right. Every time Toby wasn’t feeling good, I made him this, adding a tiny bit more juice as he got older.

With all of our drinks ready, I took them through and put them on the table before passing Pawpaw Toby’s bottle.

“He’s old enough to use a sippy, isn’t he?”

“He’s not quite at that stage. I know some kids can use them from around his age—and he does sometimes—but he tends to end up soaking wet when I give him one. I found a brand that makes one which reduces the flow of liquid so that doesn’t happen, but I don’t have it here.”

Pawpaw put his feet on the edge of the coffee table and positioned Toby so that his back was on his upturned thighs with his body facing him. As the bottle got close to his mouth, Toby snatched it and fell on it like he hadn’t had anything to drink in weeks.

“Jeez, look at the kid go. Is that good, Bub?”

Instead of making any noises, the baby stretched his legs out across Pawpaw’s chest, making himself comfortable.

The front door squeaked as it opened, and Croix growled, “Sorry, I had to go and catch the little bugger first. We let him out before we went to get you from Remy’s so he didn’t do shit in Pawpaw’s car.”

Jumping up, I shook my head wildly. “No, no! If it’s a frog, a snake, or anything that belongs in the wild like you got me on my twelfth birthday, I will k—” I stopped talking when I saw what he was holding in his arms.

The puppy had huge ears, massive paws, the cutest black shnoot, and was squirming so hard my brother was visibly struggling to keep ahold of it.

“Is that a puppy?”

“No, shit, Sherlock. What gave it away?” he snarked as he let it go.

The second it had its freedom, it began running around, uncaring of what it was knocking over, including the Wi-Fi modem after it got the cable caught around its tail.

“Oh, my God. It’s a German Shepherd.”

Croix opened his mouth, likely to say something insulting about my intelligence, but Pawpaw cut him off. “That it is, just like you always wanted. I know you have work and this little guy to look after, but we hated the thought of you out here on your own.”

He looked up at the ceiling and muttered, “Especially in this place. What is Remy thinking letting you live here? The roof’s leaking, and the whole damn thing looks like it's just holding on. I’ll bet your electricity even blinks on and off like you’re at one of those dance parties with the crazy music.”

My silence said it all.

“Jesus,” he sighed, lifting Toby up and putting him on his shoulder to rub and pat his back.

The boy was a burping genius, I regularly scored him at least an eight out of ten on them. Sure enough, within seconds, the loudest, longest burp came out of him, impressing both men.

“Damn, he does it better than Hart and Croix,” Pawpaw chuckled, lifting the baby back up to see his face. “Well done, Bub. Eleven out of ten on that one.”

Proud of himself, he kicked his legs in the air and then went back to drinking from the bottle.

A loud crash from my bedroom had me sprinting through to see what the puppy had broken.

“Damn dog’s like a wrecking ball.” Seeing him sitting there with my hairdryer at his feet, I shook my head. “Okay, Wrecker, here are the rules. You’re adorable, I like you already, but don’t break my shit. I don’t have a lot of stuff that’s valuable to me here, so what does come under that category is important.”

“You’re calling the dog Wrecker?” Croix asked from the doorway. “That’s… Actually, it suits the little bugger.”

I hadn’t done it intentionally, but now that he mentioned it, I had to admit it fit the guy.

Just then, I was hit by a wave of exhaustion so strong that I swayed on my feet. Seeing it, my brother pointed at the bed.

“Go and lie down. We’ll babysit both babies.” Looking over his shoulder at where Pawpaw was making noises, he blew out a breath. “I’ll babysit all three of them.”

“Who’s going to babysit you?”

Rolling his eyes, he pointed again at my bed. “Go and sleep. What time do you want us to wake you up at?”

“Two hours max. Toby’s bed’s over there in the corner, and his diaper organizer is the gray patterned box next to the couch. There’s a padded changing mat on the dining table, but I prefer to change him on the floor with it in case he rolls and falls off. The doctors in the ER told us to keep an eye on him for drowsiness, a change in personality, rolling eyes, and things like that….” I trailed off, suddenly rethinking my nap. “Maybe I should stay awake until Remy gets here.”