“Of course,” he said. “Of course I will.”
And Justin’s heart swelled with love. 10
Del was the first one to admit watching the kids wasn’t easy. He’d definitely be the first one to say it was incredibly fulfilling as well.
As he put Scarlett down for a nap in the travel cot that had somehow appeared in his living room—okay, yeah, he’d gone and bought her one—and Wyatt colored at the kitchen table, Del felt peace.
Harper would come home from school soon, and then he’d supervise her homework and make dinner for everyone. Justin was at work and he had a long day, because some extra deliveries had come in for…something farming related? The season was changing, so that made stock change and yeah, Del didn’t have enough brain cells for retaining that sort of information.
He did, however, listen when Justin told him about these things. They were now important to Justin and while Justin didn’t care about the specifics outside of what he needed to for work, they were a big part of his day now. That meant Del wanted to listen to him.
He remembered coming home from the restaurant and Clyde pretending to listen to him while he talked about his day. It had been so…discouraging. It had made him feel like his work wasn’t appreciated, even though if he was completely fair, every month when their financial manager had come to them with news of growth, Clyde had showered Del with attention and compliments.
Funnily enough, that didn’t feel real, anymore. None of that life did. This one, though…Del glanced at the kitchen table where Wyatt was drawing on—
“Wyatt, where did you get that paper?” Del asked sharply, fighting back all the negative emotions that came with someone messing with his work.
“Over dere,” Wyatt pointed with a crayon.
“Dere” was the pile of recipes Del had put on the corner of the table so he’d have physical copies of them if something went wrong.
He went to pick up the pile and moved it to another spot, trying to stay calm.
“That’s my paper though, Wyatt.” He hoped his tone was calm instead of angry. “You can have the ones where there are no words on them.” He knew he couldn’t be angry because of this. It wasn’t Wyatt’s fault, after all.
Wyatt looked up at him, maybe sensing something in his tone of voice. The little boy tried his best to read Del, and finally, heartbreakingly, very slowly moved his hands, dropped his crayon by the others, and pulled his hands to his lap.
“Okay,” he whispered. Then, he carefully peered at Del, his hazel eyes tearing up as his lower lip wobbled ever so slightly. “Del mad?”
Instinctively, Del took a step closer, which made Wyatt cower in the chair, almost falling off it.
“No, Wyatt, I’m not mad,” Del said quickly, realizing that the boy had been through this before and expected to be punished for his mistake—one that wasn’t even his fault.
He knelt by the chair, reminding his brain that this wasn’t a situation where someone messed up his sauce by adding salt where there already was enough in, or forgot to chop him the onions when he’d asked and that put back the service for a good twenty minutes, or even spilled vegetable oil in the back corridor and forgot to wipe it down.
No, he wasn’t in a professional kitchen. He was at home. With children. Maybe they weren’t his children, but he was responsible for them, and he couldn’t let his temper get the best of him.
“Buddy, I’m not mad. I got frustrated, because that was my work papers, okay? But it was never, ever your fault. I was frustrated at myself, because I’d left them where you could grab one.” He sighed and sat down because thanks old knees, and opened his arms. “Can I get a hug? I promise I’m not mad.”
Wyatt looked at him for a few seconds, then launched himself into Del’s arms and hugged him by the neck.
“I’m sorry if you got scared of me, Wy. You’re such a good boy. You draw lovely pictures and color with all the colors, not just the ones you like the most.” So the others wouldn’t feel bad, Harper had filled in, because while Wyatt did a few sentences here and there, something so difficult and long was out of his range of communication, still.
They still sat there few moments later when the school bus stopped by the house to let Harper out. She stomped up the stairs and wrenched open the door.
“Scarlett’s sleeping!” Del called to her in half volume.
With an “oops!” Harper caught the door and closed it quietly, then took off her outerwear and tiptoed to the kitchen.