My smile died. “I don’t talk about my parents much.”
He moved so that the water was spraying his back and not his chest, then wrapped his arms around me.
“Let’s get out of this shower and go lay down,” he said. “I want to talk to you about this, but I also don’t want my back to sustain second-degree burns while we do.”
I chuckled and turned so that he could reach the knobs and exited the shower.
I gasped when the cool air met my overheated skin.
Callum bailed out of the shower moments later and waited patiently for me to dry myself off with the only towel.
“I have a couple of t-shirts in there.” He pointed at a plastic tub. “But make sure you grab out of the bag labeled ‘Callum.’ I might have to kick my brothers’ asses on general principle when I see them next if you happen to grab one of theirs.”
I snickered and did as he asked, unearthing a t-shirt that said ‘Kilgore Bulldogs’ on it and slipping it on without another word. He hummed when he saw me in it.
“I’m honestly not even sure that would fit me anymore,” he said. “I should’ve probably retired it a long time ago.”
I rubbed my hand up and down the length of the t-shirt. It was one of those ones that looked like it’d been worn and washed so many times that it was ‘fake retro.’ The way that t-shirt companies distressed a t-shirt to make it look older than it really was.
“I like it,” I admitted. “You have pants in there?”
He shook his head and pulled out the bag labeled ‘Banks,’ then tugged some sweatpants free.
“No, but these will do,” he admitted. “I’m gonna run down and check on her. Be right back.”
While he was gone, I crawled into the bed and made myself comfortable, hoping that tomorrow morning we’d wake up and Star would be okay. That she’d be better than she was today.
And, when he came back a while later with a hopeful smile on his face, I was instantly put a little more at ease.
“She’s moving around,” he said. “A little more energy. Not much, but definitely better than she was. I even got her to take a few more mouthfuls of your mash.”
I scooted over and patted the bed, using my arm as a pillow.
He got into the bed and pulled the single sheet up over our bodies, pulling me into his chest and resting his head on the single pillow.
“Now tell me more about your parents,” he ordered. “I feel like I’ve allowed you not to talk about them for long enough.”
I laughed softly under my breath and curled myself farther into his warm body.
“My parents are okay parents,” I admitted. “My dad is a preacher and my mom’s a typical preacher’s wife. The only problem is that none of them paid much attention to me growing up. I just… I don’t want that for my kids.”
I thought about how much time my parents had spent with me when I was growing up. My mom had spent more than the average mom seeing as she stayed at home. My dad? Not so much.
“What else did they do that bothered you?” he asked curiously.
I snorted. “What makes you think there was anything?”
“Because if something had happened to me like Mal, I’d have gone home. I’d have left this place behind and never looked back. You didn’t. You made it work here. You stayed because of Malloy, didn’t you?”
I had.
“Yes,” I said simply. “Malloy was more of a father to me than my own was. And my mom? She still works. Still ignores everything and everyone that doesn’t have to do with her or her immediate surroundings. I’m fairly sure that my father and her don’t even talk to each other at this point.”
I hated that for her. I hated it a lot.
“We’re just real winners when it comes to the family department, aren’t we?” I rumbled.
She patted my belly.
“I was hoping one day, when I finally had kids, that Malloy would be there to show them what a grandfather was,” she whispered. “Now… when we have kids? We’re going to have no grandparents around at all.”
The sadness in my voice had him frowning. But I saw what his face did at the mention of us having kids. Elation, pure and simple. Knowing that I planned on having his babies? Well, that just filled him with joy.
It was a surreal feeling.
“I like that you’re thinking about having my kids,” he confirmed my suspicions. “Hate that our kids won’t have that, but love that you’re thinking about our kids.”
I ran my fingernails up and down the length of his belly, and he closed his eyes as he sank even farther into the mattress.
“I want to have babies. Your babies. Lots of them,” I whispered. “I want girls with your hair and boys with your eyes. I want to watch you teach them how to ride. I want to walk into the house after a long day at the bakery, and I want to see them running around with Codie and Ace’s kids. Banks and Candy’s.”