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LEVI

Christmas

Three Years Later

“Lee, what the hell is taking you so long?”

Aha! I leapt up, snatching what I wanted from the back of the cabinet. I knew I’d hidden another bag from Stetson. “Trying to make sure someone has enough marshmallows!”

Ripping the plastic open, I poured a handful onto Stetson’s hot chocolate. I loaded the three mugs onto the tray, then grabbed the bag at the last minute. Now that he knew they were in the house, he wouldn’t stop until he found them.

In the living room, my heart warmed at the sight in front of me. There was a fire crackling in the corner. Georgia rarely got cold enough to warrant lighting it, so it was a nice addition to the frigid December morning. Barrett sprawled out on the couch, arms wrapped tightly around Stetson, who lounged on his chest. They wore matching green pajamas, decorated with candy canes—Stetson’s insistence. He wanted all three of us to wear them but with two human space heaters in the bed, I’d have burned to death. Barrett’s hair sprawled across the cushion beneath his head. He’d been growing it out, letting it get long enough to brush his shoulders. Stetson’s had more or less remained the same: not long enough to get in his way, but enough to let us latch onto it when we needed to.

I set the tray down on the table, handing Stetson’s over first. “I’m surprised all your teeth haven’t fallen out, boy.”

He sat up slightly, taking the drink in both hands. Batting his lashes, he gave me those bright blue eyes that tended to earn him whatever he wanted, every single time. “Thank you, Daddy.”

I groaned inwardly. That. That was why we went through so many marshmallows in a week that I often joked we should buy stock in the company. Barrett pulled himself to sitting, allowing Stetson to get comfortable before taking his own mug. He inclined his head toward me, and I leaned down accept the kiss he planted on my cheek. “Thank you.”

With my own drink, I sat down and admired the picture the two of them made. I’d always been happy with Barrett. Seeing him equally enamored with someone else was the icing on the cake.

It had been three years since we brought Stetson into our lives. Barrett, in fact, didn’t retire. When the Thrashers won that World Series, it reminded him why he fell in love with baseball in the first place. One thing that did change, however, was Barrett leaving the Hellbenders after ten years with them. After the traction the league got from the World Series, the Thrashers gave him one hell of an offer. The dollar amount combined with the fact that he would be home more was something he couldn’t refuse.

My men made a pitcher-catcher duo that would make history. There’d never been anything like it, and there likely never would be again. I thought they tore up the field all on their own but together, they dominated the damn thing. They’d led the Thrashers to two more World Series wins. The one they lost? That was to the Hellbenders.

My gaze traveled to the matching trophy cases we kept in the living room. One held Barrett’s memorabilia, traced all the way back to his first game. The other was filled with Stetson’s, complete with his trophies from his college days.

In the middle was my pride and joy. I’d put that one together, and they weren’t allowed to touch it. Inside were their collected World Series rings. Behind them was the ball that Stetson threw during the ceremonial pitch that first year, signed and in a case to be preserved forever. Behind it was my favorite feature. A framed photo of the two of them. Stetson had just hit the winning home run and instead of taking his bases, he ran to his man. Barrett captured him around the waist and hauled him into his arms. Stetson’s feet barely touched the ground, but he didn’t care. The rest of the team celebrated with each other in the background, but Barrett and Stetson stood at home plate, lips locked as if they were the only two people in the world. Confetti rained down on them, looking like the league was celebrating them and not a World Series win.

I was okay with that.

“Daddy?”

Stetson’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts. “Yes, baby?”

“You okay?”

My boy watched me, his hot chocolate already gone and the mug discarded on the table. He now had his hand buried in the marshmallows—which were also disappearing. He’d be fighting a stomachache later, but it was Christmas so I let it slide. Barrett nuzzled into the boy’s neck, sharing a knowing look with me. We had our hands full, but we knew that from day one. “Yeah, baby. I’m great.”

My life was hectic now with chasing two pro athletes around, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. I watched as Barrett trailed his nose along the shell of Stetson’s ear, where he whispered, “Want to join me in the shower, Rookie?”

A visible shudder passed through Stetson’s body. “Can I, Daddy?”

A wave of need coursed through my veins and surged south, pooling in my lower belly. “Only if I can watch.”