Page 76 of Enemies with Benefits (Finding the Right Brother #1)

"Then think hard on that," I told him as I closed the bedroom door.

Micah had been wrong about how long it took us to shower and change, but he hadn't been wrong about his unspoken reasons why it would take us so long.

I behaved myself, but Mason could never behave.

Not that I wasn't usually weak to his misbehavior, but with my son in the other room, I was able to fend Mason off despite his attempts to grope me and his insistence that Micah wouldn’t hear a thing.

The fact that I was probably only able to tell him no because I had just gotten off was not something I was going to admit.

Mason noticed my uniform laid out on the chair next to the bed as we got dressed for the monthly family dinner. That had been Moira's idea, now there were more people in the family, including Micah's baby sister. "Wait, do you work tonight?"

"No, but I have something tomorrow."

"Where at?"

"St Vincent's."

"Ew, a Catholic school?"

"Even Catholic children need help now and again," I told him solemnly, and he snorted.

To the surprise of no one who knew him, it had actually been Micah who suggested I try something focused on helping people, rather than going after criminals.

It had been awkward at first, but my captain had been enthusiastic and figured it out.

Now I worked partially as a liaison with schools, sometimes to mentor groups, sometimes to talk to kids, and sometimes just to be there.

On the days I wasn't, I was one of the officers who showed up with case workers to make sure there was peace when a child had to be removed, and I always made sure there was a box of stuffed animals at hand when I went out on one of those calls.

Turned out, Micah had been right; it fed my need to serve and protect, but it also meant I wasn't dealing with the foul people who did the victimizing.

They were still there, of course, but less often, and there were always enough people, especially kids, around to keep me in check.

Plus, being a safe place for kids was far more rewarding than cracking open their parents' skulls or chasing down a drug dealer.

I stepped into the living space and raised a brow when I realized Micah hadn't come alone. Thick blond hair, bright blue eyes, and her father's idiotic grin stared at me from Micah's lap as she bounced happily with little happy noises.

"Well, hello there," I said to Lyla, scooping her up and holding her to my side. "And how is my favorite girl?"

She squealed, holding my arm and slapping it a couple of times, making me chuckle. "Good to hear."

I looked down at Micah, who was now sitting cross-legged on the couch, staring at his tablet.

Puberty had made its inroads already, and I could smell a growth spurt just around the corner.

He was still skinny, but his shoulders had broadened, and I had a feeling he was going to have my build.

Thank God he didn't have my temper, but I was probably going to have to teach him a few things about moving around the world gently as a giant among smaller people.

Well, after he went through the gangly, clumsy stage like I did, anyway.

"What're you reading this time?" Mason asked as he appeared, grinning at his niece, and she gave a delighted shriek that threatened my hearing. "At least someone around here is honest about being happy to see me."

"Nothing," Micah muttered, flinching when he realized Mason was standing behind him and locking the screen.

Mason and I glanced at one another, his brow going up and mine going down. "Uh...Micah?"

"What?” he asked defensively.

"Dude, please tell me you didn't come into our room and sit on our couch reading smut," Mason asked, and though he was trying to sound stern, I could see his lips quirking at the thought.

"Romance novels," I corrected at Micah's horror, trying to, probably in vain, ease some of the awkwardness.

Honestly, I had been waiting for something like that to happen.

There were still some people who convinced themselves that preteens could hit puberty, but their interest in sex wouldn't start till the literal teenage years.

How quickly we forget what it was like to be that age, and twelve was definitely not too young for sex to start rearing its head.

"Not that it's wrong, I mean it's definitely not something you should be reading?—"

"Especially so openly," Mason added, because he was helpful like that.

"But you are too young for shit like that," I finished, glaring at Mason and knowing he would ignore my silent attempts to get him to shut up.

"It wasn't sm… that!" Micah huffed, holding his tablet against his chest. "And, Dad, you should know better than to listen to Mason! God, you're both idiots."

"Hey!" I snapped.

He flushed. “Sorry, but it wasn't that. It's not that. But you also said I should speak the truth."

"I'm not an idiot."

"Mason...well, okay, he's not an idiot. He is an asshole, though."

And there was another problem with parenting.

Because I suspected Mason was being an asshole, more than just teasing Micah, but I also couldn't help feeling that Micah should wait until he was older to make proclamations like that.

Children, even wise beyond their years, could understand what they were saying, but the wisdom of the ramifications came with experience and age.

"And you're old enough to know that you shouldn't lash out," I reminded him. "You let me deal with Mason."

Micah scowled. “Do I have to apologize?"

"Would you mean it?"

"No."

"Then don't waste your breath. Meanwhile, you can help fold the linens for a few hours tomorrow. Now you can go."

"Ugh, fine," Micah grumbled, walking off.

I thought for a moment and called after him. “Without your podcasts. Just you and your hands."

Micah said something under his breath as he walked out that would probably get him in even worse trouble, but I let that one go.

My father would have chased me and smacked me around for muttering under my breath after getting in trouble.

The same anger he'd used against me always found a way to flare up in me, but I wasn't him.

Plus, it wasn't like I didn't grumble to myself after someone got on my nerves, and I was clearly not in his good books.

I eyed Mason. “Were you being an asshole?"

Mason winced. “He was reading a book about how to talk to someone you like."

Okay, my son had a crush, and my boyfriend was still an asshole, good to know. One of those things I would figure out how to deal with later, the other I was going to take care of now.

"Mason," I glared.

"I know," he sighed. "My mouth got there before my brain. I'll...talk to him later. And yes, I'll apologize."

"And?"

"Oh, you’re loving this, aren't you?"

"A little...and?"

"And I'll try not to tease him about shit that I should know he's sensitive about because every kid from twelve until they're thirty is sensitive about everything."

"Mmm, close enough. Now let's go, the whole family is waiting, and I'm going to have to endure Kayden's stupid jokes and his wife's questioning stares because Micah is gonna be moody."

"His wife," Mason repeated with a snort. "I love when you separate her from being the mother of your child whenever you're annoyed with her or she's going to be annoyed with you."

"Pfft, good luck. Because if she figures out he's mad because I punished him, then I'm going to tell her why he was acting like that in the first place. Your problem, not mine."

He gasped, looking at Lyla, who was now tugging on his ear. "You'd sell me out?"

I grinned. “In a heartbeat."

"See, this is why you can't trust men," he told Lyla, who only giggled as she continued to try to pull his ear off.

I watched him, taking his free hand in mine, head down to the event room that was used once a month for the family dinners.

The Beckett family had grown as all the remaining siblings found someone, or in Moira's case, added another kid to the mix. I was as much a part of that family as anyone else, not just because they’d welcomed me, but because I had let myself be welcomed.

I now had a life I could appreciate. It had its fucked-up moments and its struggles, but now I was surrounded by people, for good or ill, who were willing and able to step in and help. It had taken a lot of adjustment on my part, but I hadn't been alone at any step along the way.

"Love you," he muttered with a slightly abashed, but still pleased smile.

"And I love you too, asshole," I said, squeezing his hand to show I wasn't really that mad at him.

I had a real home. A real family. A true love.

And it was all because of Mason fucking Beckett.