Page 41 of Fire and Rain
“Go lie down, get some sleep. I’ll grab a book or something and watch over the munchkin.”
“Are you sure?
“Of course.”
She pushed off the throw, and Sean stood, offering support in case she felt dizzy again. She wrapped the throw around her shoulders. “Thanks, Sean.”
Then she walked down the hallway and disappeared inside the bedroom.
Sean walked over to check on Maverick, who was focused on the talking trains on the television. “I used to watch Thomas the Tank Engine, too, you know.”
Maverick pointed to the TV. “Thomas.”
“I see that.” Sean walked over to the bookshelf to grab something to read.
A history of the Coast Guard. A biography of George Washington. Another about Winston Churchill.
Didn’t you read anything fun, Justin?
A photo.
It was a small photograph of him and Justin the day they’d graduated from boot camp. How long ago that seemed now. They looked so young—just boys dreaming of heroism and adventures, wanting to save the world.
He put the photo back on the shelf. Then he noticed the other half of the bookshelf. These were Eden’s books. Most had covers in pastel shades—pink, purple, and blue. One was about pregnancy, and there were a couple about parenting. But the rest…
Sean read the authors’ names—Kaylea Cross, Toni Anderson, Katie Reus, Zoe York, Grace Burrowes. He pulled one off the shelf at random, turned it over to see its cover.
Whoa.
Talk about beefcake.
The front was an image of a ripped guy with no chest hair, the surf behind him. He looked ready to fight—or fuck. So, these were the kinds of books Eden enjoyed. Come to think of it, Justin had mentioned her love of romance novels once or twice.
She reads romances when I’m away. When I get home, I get the fringe benefits—if you know what I mean. And I think you do.
The DVD ended, so Sean inserted the next one. “Are you ready for more Thomas the Tank engine?”
His cheeks red, Maverick said something about Thomas that Sean couldn’t quite understand. He knelt, touched a hand to the boy’s forehead. “I’m going to get you a drink of water, okay?”
When he came back with the water in a sippy cup, Maverick sat up and drank, and Sean felt oddly accomplished. He’d never been responsible for a small child before. But this was going well.
With Maverick settled again, Sean took the book he’d picked out—the one with the ripped guy on the beach—and began to read. But he’d gotten only a few pages before Maverick walked up to him.
“Poopy.”
Shit.
Sean set the novel aside, stood, and lifted Maverick into his arms, getting a whiff of his dirty diaper.
Whew.
He didn’t want to deal with this, but he wasn’t about to wake Eden for a dirty diaper. “Okay, buddy. Let’s do this. How hard can it be to change a diaper?”
* * *
Eden woke brieflywhen Sean laid a sleeping Maverick in bed with her. She drew her son beneath her covers.
“I’ll bring you more water.” Sean picked up the empty glass on her nightstand. “How do you feel?”
