Page 80 of Hush, Little Baby

“Charlie,” I say quietly, “do you think I want you because you’re easy?”

He opens his mouth, then shrugs and laughs once, a splintered thing. “Isn’t that true? You only took me cause I was alone and… yeah, easy.”

“I want you because you’re mine,” I say, and press down, gentle but unyielding. “And I take care of what’s mine.” I can see the question blooming in his face—what if I’m too broken to take care of? But he’s too tired to voice it.

“I just…” Charlie sighs. “I’m finding it hard to understand how you took one look at me and decided that. It’s easier to ignore when I’m really little, but when I look at it as an adult, it’s just…”

He shakes his head in disbelief. “You can’t have wanted this,” he says, gesturing at his own body like it’s a broken piece of furniture left on the curb. “I mean, you saw me. You must have had your pick of like a hundred better…”

I squeeze his hand, feel the flutter of his pulse under my thumb. “I saw you, Charlie. I wanted you. And maybe it’s insane, but I swear to fucking god with just one look at you, I knew you were mine. I knew you were different than the rest. Give me a chance to prove that, baby boy. You told me yesterday you would try.”

He keeps his gaze locked on the table. “I…” He blinks rapidly, fighting off the tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. “I will, Niko, I’m just… It’s all just a lot. I’m sorry.”

He.

Called.

Me.

Niko.

It’s not quite the “Daddy” I’ve been hoping to hear from his sweet mouth, but fuck if it doesn’t put me on cloud nine.

“How about we get you upstairs, get you into some comfy clothes, and have a lazy day?”

I rise from the sofa before Charlie can summon the energy to argue. The doctor’s visit has drained what little reserve he had at the start of the morning, and it shows in every movement. Charlie lets himself be guided to his feet, and I walk us out of the den.

The moment we step out into the hallway, a familiar voice calls after us. “Niko.” Constantine is already striding toward us, a phone pressed against one ear and a tablet tucked beneath his arm. Even at a distance, I can tell by his expression that something has gone wrong.

Charlie visibly shrinks at the interruption.

I squeeze his shoulder gently and tell him, “It’s alright, sweetheart,” before turning to my friend. “What is it?”

“Another shipment problem,” Constantine answers, frustration marring his features. “The New Jersey transfer never arrived. We have reason to believe—”

“You can handle it.”

Constantine stops walking. “I can,” he agrees. “But you should probably know—”

“I don’t want to know.”

That earns me a look.

Normally, I would want every detail. Even when I delegate, I prefer to understand exactly what’s happening. It’s one of the reasons I’ve survived as long as I have.

Right now, though, Charlie is standing beside me, looking like he might collapse.

“You have my authority,” I say. “Whatever decision you think is appropriate, make it.”

Constantine’s gaze flicks toward Charlie, and a slow sigh escapes him as understanding dawns. “Of course.”

“For the next few hours,” I continue, “I am unavailable.”

“Niko—”

“Unavailable.”

He rubs at the bridge of his nose. “Fine. I’ll deal with it.”