Communion (On My Knees Duet 3)

“I don’t see why not,” I manage. “Let me have a word with Vance first, okay?”

Vance and I step into the living room, and I tell Rayne to go into the security room and be sure that the cameras in the living room are turned on, with the more sensitive volume setting.

“Then bring me a sparkling water from the overflow pantry.”

Vance nods. He gets me. I want to record everything that happens, just in case this dude is setting me up or something. I’d hate to think he was, but lately there’s a lot of things I hate about life.

Rayne leaves the living room before me. I sit in it for two minutes or so. Then I get up and move back into the breakfast nook, just by the kitchen.

The kid is staring straight ahead, looking somewhat vacant—or maybe stoic, like he’s bracing for something.

I see Rayne moving toward us down the narrow hallway, holding my can of sparkling water, and I wave the guy toward the living room.

“You want to come in here? I’m going to grab this drink from V, and then he and the baby will go do some other stuff.”

The guy stands up.

“You know, I don’t think you told us your name yet.”

He wipes a palm on his pants. “Miller,” he says, sounding nervous.

“Okay, Miller. Let’s go sit by the fire. It’s a gas fireplace,” I tell him, trying to soothe his nerves with chit-chat. “V has never lived somewhere with a gas fireplace, so he’s charmed and wants it on all the time.” I quirk a brow up at him. “Hope you’re not warm-natured.”

“No,” he mumbles. He sits on the love seat, and I sit in a nearby armchair.

Vanny and baby pass through the room, and he winks when Miller looks down. I can tell from the tension on his face that he’s probably not going to leave the area. He’ll likely be just around the corner, in the bedroom hall, watching the living room cam on his phone.

I let thirty seconds or so pass, so the kid thinks that V is out of ear shot. Then I say, “You have the floor, kid.”

Vance

Listening to Sky talk to Miller nearly breaks me. I can tell it nearly does Sky in, too, because he’s wiping his eyes freely after a point.

I’ve spent the last almost two weeks thinking about what McD will be like as a dad. And now I know. Toward the end of the hour and a half the two of them spend talking, Sky’s moved to the love seat beside Miller, and he’s got his arm around the guy.

Sky gives him a long, hard hug and says some nice shit. I can barely hear Miller—his voice is low and raspy, too soft even for our pretty damn good audio recorders—but I know he must have lost his shit, too, because he’s wiping at his eyes with his arm.

I watch Sky’s hand on his shoulder. It’s firm but gentle, not too personal…but also clearly comforting.

Miller says a few more things I can’t hear without turning up the volume on the security cam app, and Sky says, “We can talk more. And we should. You think you’re okay with that?”

The guy nods.

“Thanks for telling me that stuff,” the kid says. He straightens his shoulders and breathes deeply, like he’s trying to collect himself.

“I’ve never shared some of that with anyone but Vance,” Sky tells him, “but I’m here for you.”

The guy sniffs as he wipes his eyes again. He nods.

“How about a shower? I’ll call Vance and he can grab you some spare clothes. And Miller, listen. I’ll tell you something.”

The guy’s attention fixes on Luke, as does mine, as he says, “V’s a crier.”

“What?” The kid laughs.

“Vance is like a perfect peach,” Sky tells him. I suppress a soft scoff. “He’s tough, just tough enough, but he’s a soft one at the same time. Good and…gentle. Men can be gentle. There’s nothing wrong with that. To have a tender heart can be the healthiest thing.”

Werk it, Sky babe.

This is shit that’s tough for him, but he’s spitting it to the young dude like he’s all on board. I wonder if that’s basically what it is to be an adult: reassuring younger people about things you’re not even sure about yourself. But…out of love. The desire to protect and reassure them.

Little Missy stirs against me, and I realize the poor thing is sweaty from being mashed against my pecs for more than an hour. As for me, my back is aching from the strange position I adopted leaning on the wall. At first, I wanted to be within arms’ reach if something went sideways and the young guy went nuts. Later, when the audio wasn’t working well, I was trying to hear their voices through the hall-living room wall.