Page 86 of The Cowboy and the Hacker

“Warm washcloth,” said Zeke. “For his face, and warm milk and honey. You can give a baby honey after twelve months, right?”

“Yes,” said Cal. “Take his coat off, at least. He’s probably boiling in that thing.”

Zeke realized he’d simply been standing there with Stevie in his arms, rather like some kind of lunkhead who’d not been planning for this very day for a very long time.

Shaking himself, he went to the lumpy couch and sat down to take off Stevie’s coat, and then he sat there with the warm weight of a small child on his knees. Stevie held onto Zeke’s shirt and they both watched while Cal hustled to heat up some milk.

“The honey’s in the cupboard to the left of the sink,” offered Zeke helpfully. “And can you bring me that washcloth? Not too warm.”

While the milk heated in a pot on the stove, Cal rushed to the bathroom, and came back with a warm washcloth, which he placed, neatly folded, in Zeke’s outstretched hand.

Zeke wiped Stevie’s face, softly and slowly, pleased when Stevie seemed to enjoy it, leaning into the touch rather than away from it.

And when Cal brought the pale blue sippy cup with warm milk and honey, Stevie reached for it, which meant he’d been handed sippy cups in the past. He reached for it gently, which meant he’d been raised by gentle people. Obviously, his parents had loved him.

“Come sit with me and Stevie,” said Zeke, turning Stevie in his arms so he could cradle Stevie upright a bit while Stevie drank his warm milk and honey.

“Is there enough room for me?” asked Cal.

“Of course,” said Zeke. “Always.”

He held out his free arm, and when Cal sank to the couch and leaned into Zeke’s embrace, Zeke knew he would never want for more than this. Him, and Cal, and Stevie. A family to call his own.