Jude swiped at a rogue tear before rushing to his son. “Oops!”
“Oops!” Wolf parroted, adding in a raspberry. He pushed himself back to his feet and grinned widely at Jude.
“Who’s the best, Wolfie?” Jude asked, kneeling down on the kitchen floor in front of his son.
“Eeee!” Wolf answered, tapping his chest.
“That’s right!” Jude pulled the baby into his arms and hugged him tight. When he turned back to the table, his tears were freely flowing. “I never knew this kind of love was possible until Wolf was placed in my arms. It’s as if I can feel the Washingtons’ pain.” He rubbed the heel of his free hand over his heart. “These people have been waiting for an answer for thirty-five years. Shit, I was as old as Wolfie is now when Skye was murdered.” He shook his head as if he were still trying to comprehend the enormity of this case.
“Do we need to vote or something?” Fitzgibbon looked around the table. “I know Jace will be thrilled at the idea of me going back to work.” He blushed. “Not that working for the Magick shop isn’t work.”
“I knew what you meant, Kevin. Ronan’s got that same itch,” Tennyson said. “Where is Jace tonight?”
“Tonight is the private Christmas party for the Tremont Street Mission. I don’t go to those anymore.” Kevin shivered. His hand absently rubbed against the left side of his chest.
The last time Fitzgibbon went to a party celebrating his husband’s homeless shelter, there had been a mass shooting. Kevin saved a lot of lives that night, including the mayor of Boston, but he’d taken a bullet to the chest in the process. Ronan didn’t blame him for skipping that party. “Ten, what do you think? This case is colder than Scrooge’s black heart, but that doesn’t mean it won’t be dangerous to investigate. Whoever killed that girl has been keeping their secret for a long time. He or she won’t thank us for reopening it after all these years.”
“I was thinking the same thing,” Ten agreed. “Whoever killed Skye won’t be happy to have the three of you on the case. I say, do it. Kaye and John love spending time with the kids, so we don’t have to worry about who’s watching Everly.”
Ronan grinned before smacking a kiss to Ten’s cheek. “You realize that if we solve this case…” he trailed off, knowing Ten would catch his drift.
“It means the detective agency is a go. I know.” Ten returned his husband’s kiss. “I remember a Christmas not so long ago when you handed me a check for the expansion of West Side Magick. I wouldn’t stand in the way of you doing this even if I wanted to, and I don’t.” Ten kissed Ronan again.
“Get a room!” Jude whined. “Does that mean I can play with my friends, Cope? Please?”
Cope burst out laughing. “I don’t know. Can you be a good boy and play nice with your friends?”
“Yeah, I can! I can!” Jude laughed.
“Can you manage to solve this case without getting shot or getting one of your friends shot?” Cope bit his lip in an obvious attempt not to laugh.
Jude grimaced. “How would a loose maybe do?”
“In that case, go with my blessing.” Cope got up from the table to hug his husband and son.
“I’ve got the best name for the detective agency.” Jude smiled in earnest.
“Oh, shit,” Ten mumbled. “Here we go.”
“Three Gay Dicks!” Jude’s eyes searched his friends’ eyes for their reactions.
Ronan’s mouth hung open. He was speechless. “Sure, Jude. I can see the sign now. Three Gay Dicks, with pictures of actual dicks wearing fedoras like Humphrey Bogart and gun belts like John Wayne.” He started to laugh.
Fitzgibbon snorted. “Right, and our motto could be, ‘We get the job done in one shot.’” He dissolved into a fit of laughter.
“That’s it. I’m out.” Ten rolled his eyes and grabbed the plate of colorful Italian cookies on the counter. “I’ll be in the living room with the kids. Not that there’s much of a difference between them and the three of you.”
Cope watched him leave the room. “Make sure one of the dicks is holding a gun that’s squirting.” He chuckled before taking Wolf and following Tennyson.
“All kidding aside, we’re doing this. We’re actually going to do this together?” Ronan couldn’t believe what he was saying. He hadn’t said anything to Tennyson, but as much as he loved being retired, he also missed being a detective. This could be his shot to have the best of both worlds.
“It wouldn’t be like being back at work. There wouldn’t be scheduled shifts to take, and a lot of the leg work could be done at home, for now. At least until we see if it’s possible to get this idea off the ground.”
Jude nodded along in agreement. He reached for his drink, holding the cup high. “Here’s to Byrne Investigations.”
“Fuck you, Byrne.” Fitzgibbon held up his glass. “Here’s to Fitzgibbon and Sons.” He pointed a finger at Ronan and Jude.
Ronan was laughing too hard to suggest a name of his own. He held his glass high and toasted his friends.
4
Tennyson
Tennyson lay in bed looking at the pictures he’d taken of the sleeping kids at the party. None of them made it to the end of The Lion King. They’d fallen asleep on top of each other, like a giant puppy pile.
While the adults chatted and ate in the kitchen, Ten had gone around taking pictures of the impromptu slumber party. He thought it would be a fun idea to frame the pictures as Christmas presents for their friends.
“I thought we agreed, no social media in bed.” Ronan grinned as he walked out of the bathroom, dewy from his shower.
“I’m looking at pictures from the party.” Tennyson hated social media. He and the other psychics at West Side Magick contributed to the social media accounts for the shop, but he did so only because it was a job requirement. He handed the phone to Ronan when he sat down on the bed.
“This is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.” Ronan laughed. “All of the kids and Jude out like a light. It almost looks like we drugged them all.”
“Don’t tell our friends that.” Ten laughed. He took his phone back from Ronan and set it on the nightstand. “So,” Ten began.
“I knew there was a reason you didn’t join me in the shower,” Ronan challenged, wearing an accusatory look.
“Calm your hems, Ronan.” Tennyson rolled his eyes internally.
“I don’t have hemorrhoids.” Ronan grinned. “Although, you are a pain in my rosy, red ass.”
“Cute, and so close to Christmas,” Ten deadpanned. “I wanted to talk to you about the Skye Washington case.”
Ronan’s mood instantly sobered. “That poor family. I can’t imagine what the last thirty-five years have been like without their daughter.”
“I’ve been thinking the same thing all night.” Tennyson picked up Ronan’s hand. “I’m afraid to work on this case.”
Ronan’s eyes narrowed on his husband. “Because you think it’s dangerous?”
Ten shook his head. “No. I didn’t touch the file, but I could feel the evil oozing out of it. Sort of like when you feel the heat coming off your coffee mug on a cold morning, but uglier. Much uglier.”