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Clark groaned. “Jace, I don’t think Mr. and Mrs. Winters are going to want a puppy in here.”
Jace’s face fell. “Why? They have a dog.”
“Yes, but it’s their house and so is this. We are just living in it while I work for them.”
Jace’s lip quivered. “Oh.”
Clark sighed, pulling his son into his arms. “Just give me a little time to find us a house and we’ll get a dog.”
“Any kind?”
Clark squeezed him tight before dropping him back onto his feet. “We’ll see. You want to help me make dinner?”
“Yep!” Jace raced into the kitchen and pulled his Avengers apron off the peg. “Matey Jace reporting for duty, Captain.”
Clark tied his own apron around his waist with a ferocious scowl. “All right, ye scallywag. Get me eggs, pancake mix, and bacon. Off with ye, or ye’ll be walking me plank, says I!”
“Aye, aye, sir!”
While Jace ran to the fridge, Clark pulled out their waffle maker, baking sheets, tinfoil, and a large frying pan. He’d never learned to cook as a kid. His mother would pitch a fit if they disturbed her kitchen. It wasn’t until Patrice was pregnant with Jace that Clark taught himself how to make healthy meals for his pregnant girlfriend.
Clark grimaced, remembering the longest nine months of his life. He’d been twenty, about to finish his second year in college when he’d met Patrice at a party. She’d been confident, wild, and kissed him without even asking his name. She was unlike anyone Clark had ever met and he’d become addicted to her. Her body. Her spirit. He’d fallen down a hole for over a month of partying and screwing every night.
Until the stick turned pink.
They’d both been scared to death, discussing their options, agreeing to have the baby and raise it together, only to have her fly off the handle days later about leaving. Clark tiptoed around Patrice’s ever-changing moods for the entire pregnancy, doing his best to keep her happy. One day she’d be dragging him through the baby section of the store, pointing out all the things she wanted. The next he’d come home from work to find her on the bathroom floor crying in a fetal position.
“Patrice! What’s wrong?”
“It’s a boy.”
Clark lit up. “That’s great. I wish I could have been there, and I know you wanted a girl, but—”
“No! I made a mistake. I can’t have a baby.”
He’d never felt so helpless and confused in his life.
“It’s too late for anything else.”
“Then I’ll give it away. I cannot have a boy.”
Clark froze, a cold sweat breaking out all over his skin. “No.”
Patrice sat up, glaring at him. “Excuse me?”
“If you don’t want him, that’s fine. But that is my son, too. And I’m not giving him up without a fight.”
After screaming at him for over an hour, she’d finally broken down and let him hold her, crying in his arms until she’d fallen into a fitful sleep. The next few months rolled by calmer and Clark thought Patrice was happy. That they were finally connecting.
And then she disappeared.
“What about the strawberries?”
He cleared his throat, trying to dislodge the lump his memories created. “Sorry, I forgot.”
Jace frowned at him. “Captains don’t forget things.”
“Argh, are ye challenging me, matey? Maybe ye’d like the bite of me steel!” Clark waved his black plastic spatula at Jace and his son giggled. Grabbing a wooden spoon from the utensil drawer, he waved it at his dad.
