Page 47 of Alder Woodacre and the Acorns of Affection (Amaranthine Interludes #3)

Not long after their guests had gone, Joe rummaged in the little office area off the kitchen, looking for something that would work. Maybe his idea was silly. Kip was his— really his—and Joe was inspiring secret smiles and triple tail-flicks and early nights and needy squirrel noises.

This was … not competing.

And it wasn’t that he was jealous.

But he liked having things that were his . Like using Kip’s given name. And things that were theirs . Like wearing matching rings. And sharing the responsibility of raising Jarrah.

Joe pulled a big sheet of sturdy paper out from behind the desk. One side was a poster from twenty-odd years ago, promoting their corn maze, but the back was blank. It would do.

He found a hammer and some little tack nails, then he poked through pencils and pens, wanting something permanent. Because this snug and cozy Reaverson-Woodacre nest, they were building it to last.

Upstairs, in the bathroom that he and Kip shared, Joe held the paper against the wall to the right of the medicine cabinet. It wasn’t quite the same as the one in the cabin up past Nocking, but Joe thought it was close enough for Kip to make the connection.

With careful taps, he tacked it up.

Uncapping the pen, he turned his plan over, then decided to just go with it. Jarrah would be sharing this bathroom with them, but he didn’t plan to write anything their son couldn’t see. If Kip wanted, he could always hide it with illusions.

Joe took his time, trying to write neatly. His penmanship was pretty good, but he wasn’t used to writing on a wall. He stepped back and guessed it would have to do. The line drifted upward a teensy bit, but … that was okay. It did the job.

Because they’d given Joe a boost of courage and a place to start, he used his bondmate’s own words.

Freckles are kind of a thing.

The line looked a little lonely. Maybe he should add something more. To make it obvious that they were making a list. A nice, long list. Full of good things.

Acorns are kind of a thing.

Lots more ideas came to him, but … there was plenty of time to add new items. No need to rush. So Joe capped the pen, stashed it inside the medicine cabinet, and went to see if the vegetable garden needed weeding.

The day was headed along toward the evening meal before Kip and Jarrah returned.

Joe could tell the moment they were safe within the farm’s boundaries, and not long after, he knew that Kip was headed his way.

That was a nice, peaceful feeling. A strong and settled thing. Right in every way that mattered.

Kip found him sitting on the same field stone where they’d met that morning. His eyes were alight when he said, “The farm is so in love with you right now.”

“Okay. Good.” Joe moved to one said, making room.

Instead, Kip sat on the ground at his feet. “Hey, I found your gift.”

Joe had half-forgotten his small project. “Oh, okay.” He fiddled with Kip’s bangs before softly adding, “Good.”

“So, here’s the thing. Remember the whole … bad influence caveat that came with my half of the dadding?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“I might have messed up.”

“Already?”

“Yeahhh, well. I got greedy. Thought it might be a good idea for Jarrah to have his own bedroom. So I volunteered mine, since I mostly share with you anyhow.”

“Okay …?”

“Jarrah’s beyond excited. He’s already moving his stuff in.”

Joe didn’t see the problem.

Kip peeked up at him from under the shelter of his tail. “Help me talk him out of sharing it with his goat?”

Kip thought that Jiro handled the dad stuff like a champ.

The man carried Gilen downstairs and barnward, fondling the kid’s ears and hearing out Jarrah, who tried to negotiate for part-custody.

Jiro didn’t compromise on the whole goats-in-the-house thing, but he was willing to let Jarrah stay overnight in the barn with his new pet, so long as Kip or Kurloo or Kaga kept him company.

Jarrah was disappointed all the way up until Jiro went into a storage shed and showed him the litter box and cat towers. Because once upon a time, Grandma George—that’s seriously what the whole family had called George’s wife—always had a few cats in the house.

Quick to seize any advantage, Jarrah asked if he could have a few cats.

Mild in his refusal, Jiro said one cat, but they could take the screen off one of Jarrah’s bedroom windows so that Bush could come and go as he pleased.

And just like that, Jiro was Best of Dads, and Jarrah was making happy squirrel noises.

Kip finished cleaning all the kitty gear and helped Jarrah set it up in his new room. Once Nonny was big enough to leave her mother, Jarrah could bring her inside. He went to tell her the good news, and Kip went in search of his bondmate.

Jiro was standing in the bathroom, hands in the pockets of his overalls, looking at the list he’d started. Coming up behind him, Kip offered a soft, “Hey.”

“Hey,” he replied, leaning into him.

Kip had struggled to pick something to add to the list. Not because he couldn’t think of anything. He could have filled the page. Easy. But for his first thing …? It needed to be the right thing. And so he’d gone with everything.

Jiro is kind of a thing.

He wrapped his arms around his bondmate and held his breath.

Jiro turned in his embrace, and the look on his face was just … beautiful.

Kip tightened his hold and waited. Even though he was terrible at it.

His bondmate was studying his face, all seriousness.

Was he … memorizing freckles? Kip didn’t want to wait that long.

Couldn’t possibly. Didn’t wanna. Yet he managed to hold back until Jiro’s focus shifted in promising ways, and his smile did magical things to the sunlight.

Then he let loose a little, knowing Kip wouldn’t even try to resist, and he spoke the one word that had changed everything.

“Alder.” And with a gentle tug, he added, “C’mere.”

THE END