Page 4

I don't know what the feeling is that shoots through my mind and body when I hear Gabe say the word daddy .

I refer to myself as that all the time and Owen exclusively calls me that for the time being.

Hearing a grown man, a younger-than-me grown man, calling me daddy is…

different. I know my face shows the uncomfortable feeling welling up in me, but I hide it and smile before he looks back up.

It isn’t wrong for him to refer to me as Daddy when talking to Owen, but it still feels…

off . I push those thoughts away and we set the headboard against one wall.

The bedrooms both have closets that are side-by-side, separated by a wall between them.

Mine is on the right side of the room, where Owen's is on the left.

Owen has already gone into his bedroom, and I peek in to see Marshall is at the final stages of putting his bed together. The room is not as messy as I imagined. My earlier concerns about the guys being out of my sight with my kid have mostly evaporated.

I turn back to walk with Gabe through the house. Izzy and Noah are bringing in the footboard.

"Is Owen's mom in the picture?" Gabe asks the question when we're alone outside. He sounds hesitant to ask, but not like he's prying.

"No, she passed away when Owen was a baby."

"Oh, I'm sorry." Gabe looks nervous and I shake my head.

"No, don't worry about it. It's a logical question. She was nice and would have been a great mom. Owen was a surprise, but she loved him. She passed in a car accident a couple of months after he was born."

"And you've been raising him on your own?"

"Yeah." I grunt as I try to lift the mattress. Gabe is right beside me and he reaches at the same time that I readjust my grip. His hand lands on top of mine and we both freeze for a second, looking at each other.

"Sorry," he says and pulls his hand away .

"I appreciate all the work you guys have done. You really didn't have to do this."

"Are you kidding?" Gabe fixes me with a stare, and I don't know if I want to apologize or melt into his eyes.

I have no idea what is wrong with me. This guy has to be at least five years younger than me, probably still in school.

He's gorgeous, as are his friends, which seems unfair for all the gay, pan, and bisexual men in this city —myself included— and he has this air about him.

It's confident, not cocky. Or maybe it's just been way too fucking long since I've been laid.

Being a single dad in your twenties will do that to you.

I'm blaming the heat.

We're halfway through the living room with the mattress when Noah —I think— calls out that there's a delivery.

At the mere mention of popsicles, Owen goes barreling down the hallway.

Gabe and I both laugh when Marshall calls for Owen to finish helping him organize his toys.

We take a short break and down water and eat a popsicle each.

I sigh when Owen comes back from exploring around the yard with Gabe and he has blue all down the front of his shirt.

"I tried my best," Gabe says regretfully.

"Daddy," Owen cuts in before I can answer. "Did you know that we could wake up with a scor-pon in our beds?"

I look from Owen to Gabe. Where Owen's face is red from being in the sun for the last ten minutes, Gabe's is one of almost embarrassment. "Scorpion, Owen, and I didn't say it would be in your bed. I just said you had to look out for them in the house."

"Thanks for terrorizing my kid," I say jokingly. "I will now need your number if he starts crying in the middle of the night."

I realize what I said right after the words come out of my mouth. Another moment and I chance looking up at him. He's smiling, just barely. He shrugs and pulls out his phone. "Only if you give me yours too."

I text myself from his phone and hand it back. Neither of us say anything else about it the rest of the time they're helping.

***

Waking up the next morning in my own bed feels like a miracle.

I am beyond grateful for Gabe and his friends.

What would have taken me nearly the whole day, and maybe some money if I hired movers, took only a couple of hours to bring it all in and set it up.

After I gave Gabe my number, we went inside and put the bed together.

Owen didn't want any of the guys to leave, which was cute at first, but when they actually left it turned into a near meltdown.

He kept repeating he wanted his friends to stay.

After Owen cried himself to sleep, I texted Gabe and we set up a tentative thank you dinner for a couple of days’ time. He told me he would ask the other guys if they were available.

Thinking about it again now, I know Owen would like that a lot, too.

Our morning is slow. I order us breakfast and start going through some boxes while we wait for Owen's grandparents to arrive with the car. He is going to be spending the night with them. The beauty of video calls kept them close, even though they hadn’t met yet.

Owen seems excited that he'll have two rooms, one here at the house and one with them.

When they arrive around eleven, I let Owen open the door.

"Oh, look at you!" His grandmother, Karen, coos immediately. "You are getting so tall, Owen. Oh gosh, Harold, look at him. He looks just like his mama when she was little. "

"You're growing up fast," Harold says, giving Owen a half-hug. It is more like an arm wrapped around the back of Owen's head. Harold is only fifty-nine, but he looks closer to his late sixties, presumably from a life of hard labor.

"Do I get to go see my room now?"

"Owen," I say, cutting him off. "How about you say hi first. Maybe show them the house?"

"Oh, it's fine, Justin." Karen barely looks at me when she says it. "We're good to go if Owen is. We're just as excited to show him his room too."

"Well, okay." I wasn't expecting to have an empty house so soon, but it gives me a couple more hours to unpack than I thought. "Owen, give me a hug bye and you be good for your grandparents, okay? I love you and I'll see you tomorrow."

"I love you too," he replies, smushed against my chest. Standing back up, I hand over the backpack I organized for him this morning.

"He hasn't had lunch yet," I say before they promise to feed him well —something I'm sure we'll have to discuss— and leave. I gave them the extra car seat I had, so I know he's safe.

I spend the day running errands. I return the moving truck, taking an Uber back to the house. Then I turn around and go right back out to get groceries. I make sure to get extra veggies and healthier snacks to make up for the last three days of traveling.

I get the kitchen unpacked and somewhat organized.

Then the bathroom. By the time I make it to my room, it is well after normal dinner time, and I am…

hungry. I've been picturing Gabe moving my furniture, helping carry boxes, taking over putting together my own bed.

It doesn't help that the first box I open in my room happens to be that box and my mind immediately supplies me with the image of Gabe opening it and looking at the dildo hidden under a shirt.

I debate on taking advantage of a quiet house, but decide I should go out, instead.

There was a club I went to on occasion back in Virginia. Being bisexual, I didn't have a preference for the kind of club, either. After Lauren’s accident, I found myself exploring both gay and predominantly straight clubs equally. Not that it happened often.

But tonight, after thinking about Gabe all day, I have specific itches that need to be scratched.

I pull out my phone and search for clubs nearby. The first several results are not what I'm looking for, but then I see it. Club Kik. It looks promising, and I tell myself it can't hurt to at least check the place out.

I change into my favorite jeans and a green shirt that I've been told brings out the green in my mostly hazel eyes. It's gotten me laid before, in all honesty, even with the Batman logo.

The drive there is uneventful, but the change of scenery is nice.

Closer to the heart of the city, where the club is located, traffic picks up and I end up having to park a block away.

The building my GPS tells me is Club Kik is unassuming.

There's no line, but then again, it is only nine and the sun is still setting.

Maybe they aren't even open yet. I try the door and smile to myself when I step inside without issue.

There’s a small foyer where I show the receptionist my ID and receive a stamp on the inside of my wrist, and then I open the next door to the main club space where thumping base, strobe lighting, and writhing bodies await me.

Let’s see how this goes.