Page 26 of Yorkie to My Heart (Friends of Gaynor Beach Animal Rescue #6)

Phillip

“I don’t understand.” Raphael put their hands on their hips.

Inwardly, I sighed. Outwardly, I smiled.

“Your grandmother is in the hospital. Your mom went to help her and to watch over your grandfather. Your mother tried reaching Uncle Jeremy, but she couldn’t.

So she asked me to pick you up from school and to stay with you and Thaddeus while she’s at the hospital. ”

We’d been over this three times. While Marcie had given me the quick rundown on what to expect when I threw Raphael’s routine into chaos, she’d neglected to mention this.

It had, however, been addressed in one of the eighteen articles I’d read from a reputable website while Thaddeus napped and before we went to pick Raphael up from all-day kindergarten.

I worried about watching the kids—seeing as I had very little experience.

Marcie was apoplectic with panic over her mother, and while she tried to think of someone else she could call, I was standing right there. She asked, and I agreed.

I wasn’t a stranger to the nibblets. We’d met several times now, and I was, technically, staying with them.

At least until Jeremy gets back. I also had Anthony on speed dial.

And since Colin and James were trying to qualify to become foster parents, I figured they’d know about kids.

Oh, and Colin had mentioned having a couple of nibblets in the form of Hallie and Thomas.

Those two were the kids of James’s brother Danny and, apparently, visited Colin’s home frequently.

So I had plenty of backup if things went sideways.

Just…proving myself capable and worthy was important. I wanted Marcie—and by extension, Jeremy—to see me as competent.

“Your mom said we could play in the backyard with Wally.”

“I want to walk Wally.”

“We could hook Wally up to his leash and walk him around the backyard.”

“I want to go to the park.”

“Okay. But I can’t watch you, Thaddeus, and Wally.” That might not have been strictly true, but I wasn’t willing to test that theory my first time out.

“I can watch Wally.”

“In the backyard.”

They put their hands on their hips again.

Inwardly, I sighed again. Outwardly, I remained stoic. If Marcus Aurelius could do it, then so could I. “Your mom said we could have ham sandwiches for dinner. She said you could even skip the lettuce—just this once.”

“I want grilled cheese.”

“That sounds lovely. But we’re sticking to meals that don’t require cooking. Just for tonight.” Even I could manage grilled cheese, but I wasn’t one hundred percent certain I wouldn’t have little ones underfoot. How do parents do this?

“I’m hungry.” Thaddeus appeared at the door, loyal Wally by his feet.

“Okay, kiddo. Can you close the back door? Ham okay?”

“I want grilled cheese.” Raphael glared. “We always have grilled cheese on Wednesdays.”

Which Marcie hadn’t mentioned—but she’d been beyond stressed.

What do I do? Give in? Does that set a bad precedent?

On the other hand, when am I going to be babysitting them again?

Alone, no less. I eyed my phone. Texting Marcie would take two seconds.

She’d given me her number and told me to use it—no matter how small my concern was.

But she’s dealing with both parents. You used to be overwhelmed with just your mom.

That was true. Except I’d been a child and then a teenager. As an adult, wouldn’t it be easier to cope?

Texting Jeremy was just as tempting, but he’d looked super stressed at midnight when he’d headed out. I’d no idea his job was so…important. Being called out in the middle of the night? I thought that was, like, doctor-level stuff. Also, he hadn’t contacted me all day. So maybe he was too busy.

“Please?” Thaddeus pressed his hands together as if in prayer.

Oh buddy, that would be the thing least likely to have me caving. The look of pleading on his face, as well as the resoluteness of Raphael’s had me giving in. “Just this once.”

Both children, simultaneously, fist pumped the air.

“But you have to promise to sit with Wally in the family room and watch television while I cook.”

“I always help.” Raphael’s stubborn jaw set was back.

“That may be true. But I need you to watch Wally and make sure I don’t trip over him. That’s a big responsibility.”

They squinted—as if trying to take my measure. “Yeah, okay.”

“Great. I’m going to give you each a couple of baby carrots.”

Wally perked.

“Yes, you too, buddy.”

After I’d doled out carrots for all, the three smaller beings headed into the family room and I set about organizing dinner.

Somehow I managed to make four sandwiches without burning anything.

As a kid I’d done this fairly often—although not with the good cheese I got to use today.

Hell, that I’d gone twenty-four years without burning myself was pretty impressive.

I won the battle between eating in front of the television and sitting properly at the kitchen table.

I ruled over said table and didn’t allow anyone to accidentally drop food for Wally to scoop up.

I managed to get everyone fed and the kitchen cleaned up before bedtime.

Those all felt like huge accomplishments. Seriously big deals.

Then I faced the uphill battle of actually getting the kids into bed.

Marcie had said that, for this one time, they could skip baths.

Raphael wanted none of that.

As a compromise, I sat on the outside of the bathroom and insisted they give me a running commentary of what they were doing.

I worked off the assumption that I’d burst in if they stopped talking.

I might’ve also googled the average age of kids drowning in bathtubs and been vaguely reassured that five-year-old kids, if they were going to drown, did so in pools or lakes.

The number of kids who died that way distressed me, but the odds were in my favor that Raphael would be fine.

And they were.

In turn, I learned about every single thing they had said and done in the nine hours we’d been apart.

Who knew five-year-olds did so much in a day?

I was vaguely relieved they didn’t share when they went to the washroom.

Was it possible they understood the concept of oversharing?

Although, given my word vomit to Jeremy yesterday, Raphael appeared to have more restraint than me.

Yet Jeremy didn’t turn away. He guided you to a store with sticky buns and made you laugh repeatedly. He welcomed you into his home with his sister and nibblets there. You had fun. That has to mean something.

“I have homework.” Raphael made the pronouncement as they opened the bathroom door I’d been leaning against.

At least I’d been sitting, so I only lost my balance for a moment, but was able to right myself. “Uh…you get homework in kindergarten?” I didn’t remember much from those days. If I’d been assigned something, it would’ve been bible study. No separation between church and state in that town.

“I have to draw a picture.” Raphael wore a large, oversized shirt.

Jeremy had warned me they didn’t like wearing clothes, especially at home. I took the wearing of clothes as win. Then they knelt next to my and started rubbing their wet hair against me. Sort of like Wally did when he wanted attention and affection.

I had no idea how to react.

Oh, wait. I’d read something about kids and water.

How some kids didn’t mind being in the water, but once they were out, they couldn’t tolerate it on their face.

In that light, drying their hair made sense.

I might’ve preferred they use a towel instead of my T-shirt, but something swelled inside me at the trust they placed in me.

At least we have an hour before bedtime. Hopefully their hair will be dry by then… Truthfully, I had no idea how long something such as a wet child took to dry their hair.

Hell, I didn’t even know how long it took a wet dog?—

A splash followed by a distinctive yelp had me gently pushing Raphael aside and crawling on hands and knees across the wet tiles of the bathroom.

Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. Please don’t drown. I don’t know doggie CPR. How do I not know doggie CPR? Oh God ?—

As I looked over the side of the tub, a very adorable face gazed back up at me.

A very wet face.

Now, as the panic receded, I reminded myself I’d only given Raphael about eight inches of water to work with. Less likely to be able to drown. I also hadn’t thought anything of the little stepstool. Now, as I thought about it, I wondered if Thaddeus used it.

“Oh my God, dog.”

He chose that moment to shake out.

Water sprayed everywhere.

Everywhere.

Even up my nose.

I cough spewed.

“Do you need a towel?”

Raphael stood next to me, now almost as wet as I was.

I hoped that wouldn’t trigger them. God save me. “Uh, yes…does your mom have old towels?”

Twenty minutes later, Raphael, Wally, and I sat in front of the gas fireplace. The a/c blasted, but the heat from the fire was drying us off faster.

I apologized to the climate change people who’d have a fit if they saw us.

Well, I don’t drive or eat much meat and hate running the a/c, so I normally do my part.

Thaddeus, quite unamused by the band of soaked beings, declared he’d had enough and was going to bed. True to his word, he got undressed, put on his pajamas, brushed his teeth, hopped into bed, and was out like a light before I even turned his lamp off.

In my heart, I knew Raphael wouldn’t be so easily convinced to go to bed.

Given they were still wet, I figured drying off was a better idea anyway. They had stuck their legs under the massive T-shirt, perhaps explaining why the thing was so stretched.

Is he doing this because the pressure reassures?

I just didn’t know.

Marcie still hadn’t texted.

Jeremy still hadn’t called.

I worried for both of them.

What if their mom was really sick? What if she died?

What if Jeremy fell asleep behind the wheel and crashed on his way back to Gaynor Beach?

What if Marcie choked on a sandwich and no one in the hospital could save her?

Yeah, that one felt farfetched, even for me.

“Hello!” A deep voice echoed through the house.

Didn’t Marcie say Darren was down in San Diego for a week for training? Is he home early? Oh God, what if it’s an intruder? I have to protect the kids.

Okay…but an intruder wouldn’t announce themselves.

Right?

I took a leap. “In the family room.” Before the words were out of my mouth, Wally had squirmed out of the towel I held him in. Little damp shit of a dog was gone.

And since I didn’t have an elegant way to get up, and was too fucking tired anyway, I just sat there. Like a lump.

“Uncle Jeremy!” Raphael tossed off their towel, leapt up, and headed toward the front door.

Okay. How did you not recognize his voice? How, in all your calculations, had it not occurred to you that Jeremy might come here? Because…somehow, in my mind, he was still in LA.

I was about to try to get up when Wally returned and barreled into me. Great…now I’m going to smell even more like wet dog.

“Hey Phillip, how’s it going?” Jeremy entered the room with Raphael on his hip.

“Uh…it’s a super long story. How’s your mom? You know about her, right?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I spoke to Marcie a couple of hours ago—when she was finally able to reach me. Sorry, I should’ve texted or called you.

I just…” He sighed. “It’s been a really long day.

Anyway, I went straight to the hospital.

Mom’s fine. Grouchy that they’re keeping her for the night.

She fainted and although the doctors suspect they know why, they want to keep her overnight for observations.

She’s seventy and they’re just being careful.

Which I have no problem with,” he was quick to assure me.

“Marcie’s bringing Dad home. They’re packing him a bag, and he’s coming to stay here for the night.”

“Oh.” My mind whirled. “So she’s going to need the spare room back.”

“Yeah…which was why she sent me ahead. She apologized, but she’s wondering if you and Wally would mind coming back to my place?”

Mind? Oh God, I so don’t mind. “No, that’s no problem. I sort of assumed I was here temporarily. I mean, I should be able to stay on my own?—”

“But you’ll never have to.” Jeremy kissed Raphael’s temple. “Time for bed, nibblet.”

“No. Wait for Mom.”

“Ah, I figured as much. About thirty minutes. You’re going to be grumpy in the morning.”

“No. Won’t.” Again, with the absolute certainty only a five-year-old could have.

Jeremy slid Raphael off his hip and to the ground. Then, he gazed around, apparently taking in the chaos of wet man, wet child, wet dog, and damp towels. Oh, and the blazing fire. “You realize it’s ninety degrees outside?”

“We are aware.”

“And there’s this handy invention called the hairdryer ?”

“I knew I was missing a piece.” I snapped my finger. “I never use the damn thing, so no, it didn’t occur to me.”

Jeremy leaned over to feather my hair. “You are perfect just the way you are. If I don’t use the hairdryer, bad things happen to my do.”

“You love Phillip.” Raphael poked their head directly between Jeremy and me. “And you love Uncle Jeremy.”

My eyes widened.

Right along with Jeremy’s.

“Uh…”

“Goodnight.” With that, Raphael bolted from the room.

“Uh…” I tried to unscramble my brain. “Didn’t they, uh, say they wanted to wait up?”

“Likely they’ll do it in their room.” Jeremy scratched his beard, his bloodshot eyes settling on me. “They like to drop bombs and then run away.”

“For a five-year-old, they’re very competent. I was barely able to tie my shoes.”

“Mine were Velcro until I took up baseball and discovered that Velcro cleats weren’t a thing. They should’ve been.”

I blinked.

Wally rubbed against Jeremy.

“Oh, God, I’m so sorry. Those amazing pants are going to smell like wet dog.”

He waved me off. “They’re going to the cleaners anyway. Everything from today is getting laundered. That was longer than most of the all-nighters I pulled in college.”

“You look exhausted.”

“I am. So you finish drying off, and I’ll get your stuff into the SUV. Then when Marcie comes home, we can just go.”

“Are you hungry? I made grilled cheese. There’s an extra one. I made it for Marcie. So she’d have something to eat when she got home.”

“She ate at the hospital, but I haven’t. You’re sure it’s okay…?” He gestured toward the thankfully clean kitchen.

“Please do.”

“Yeah.” For a moment, he just held himself still. Then he caressed my cheek. “You’re a good man, Phillip. This family owes you big time.” With that, he went to the kitchen.

Wally, darling damp dog, plopped on my lap.

I held my hand against my cheek.

Is Raphael right? Does Jeremy love me? Do I love him?

The notion was insane.

And yet had the whiff of truth from a meddling five-year-old…