As I held the baby out toward his father, silently begging him to take the poor tyke from my hands, Stevie's cry came to an abrupt halt. In its place came another burp, followed by a strange gurgling sound right before he spewed the contents of his bottle out like a fountain.
Not thinking to lower him in time, I took the hit directly in the face. I wanted to gag from the taste—and knowledge—of regurgitated formula because of course I hadn't closed my mouth in time. Fluid poured off my face, dripping over my shirt and finally splashing onto the floor. Before I could react, Stevie started crying all over again.
My former best friend stared for half a second before laughing so hard he nearly fell out of his chair. Fortunately, Tom walked in the room. His special gift was healing. Stevie stopped crying the moment Tom cradled him in his arm. Rocking him back and forth, Tom brushed his fingers along Stevie's forehead and down his face, before gently pressing his stomach.
Taking a seat at the table and cooing at Stevie, Tom spread his hand out as his palm began glowing, as if lit from within by a soft white light. Retracing his original path, he gently brushed the glowing palm against the baby’s head and cheeks and finally his stomach. By the time he was done, Stevie was sound asleep like an angel.
I grabbed a dish towel for my face and dropped down into the chair beside them, blotting the worst of the mess from my face and shirt while Eli and Tom talked. Or rather, Tom spoke, and Eli paid attention.
"He should be fine, now. He had the beginnings of an ear infection, and I think it was giving him a headache because he had tension all over his tiny scalp. Plus, his tummy was bothering him, and I noticed he was extra gassy. Have you considered switching formulas? I admit I don't know much about it, but I was looking at one of the baby magazines Charlie has lying around, and there was a whole article about the different brands. According to the article, the wrong formula can even affect their sleep patterns, making it harder for them to sleep through the night. Forgive me if I’m overstepping."
Eli whipped out his phone. "I'm making a note. Because you know what? This is silly, but I've been using the formula my papa used with my baby brother. I've accused Matt—jokingly, of course—how it's his fault Stevie won't sleep through the night. He never wakes me up, just rises when Stevie does and hangs out in the nursery for a couple hours, rocking Stevie while they share serious man talk. Whatever he means, right? For real, though, if changing his formula would help him sleep better, I am all over the idea. My poor alpha really needs to get more rest. I'm glad he and Stevie have bonded so well, but Matt has a lot on his plate."
"Let me grab the magazine. I'll show you the article. If it helps, then I'm glad I was able to suggest it." Tom started to rise, then stopped halfway up and glanced at the baby he was holding. "You mind if I take him with me? I hate to put him down when he's sleeping so well."
Waving his hand, Eli shook his head. "Mind if you take my baby and give me a break? Not at all. In fact, you can feel free to walk as slowly as you want."
Tom laughed softly, taking care not to wake the baby. "Tell you what, since we're only about a month away from having a baby in this house, I don't mind getting extra practice holding yours. There's a nice comfy rocking chair in Gidget's nursery. I bet Stevie would love if I made use of it while he sleeps. Come find me when you're ready to have him back."
As he slipped away with Stevie, Eli pouted at me. "You need to quit hoarding your brothers, Charlie. I think Tom would like a change in scenery, don't you? Lucerne Valley is so nice this time of year."
Even though he was joking, the thought of my brother with the healing touch leaving us made me frantic. "You can't take him. You saw what happened with Stevie. Gidget's going to need a healer around here full-time with me as a parent."
Dropping all pretense and studying me with concern, Eli scooted closer and reached for my hand. "Oh, Charlie, no. For one thing, every baby is different. Which, considering, is probably why my brother's old brand of formula might not be the best choice for Stevie. I got a bunch of different samples in the mail after I started signing up for the free baby magazines. Am I a bad parent for not putting that together myself? No way. Because all any parent can ever do is their best. And let me tell you, what works today might not work tomorrow. Like Noah with different vegetables. The trick is to keep trying. Also, you heard Tom. Stevie had the beginnings of an ear infection, and his head hurt. No wonder he was crying."
"You might be right, but what about the part where Stevie stopped crying as soon as Tom took him? Tom hadn't used his healing touch yet. As for the gas, it might not be the formula. Maybe I didn't burp him right. You heard the noise he made before he puked on me." I hated to sound like a whiner, but I was seriously worried now.
"Charlie, quit fussing so much. Don't take Stevie's crying personally. You’re a lovely person with a warm, caring heart, and your concern shows you're going to be a great dad. But if I can offer one tip? I learned this the hard way. Babies pick up on our tension. He calmed down for Tom because Tom wasn't stressed to the max. There will be nights, and days, where you will walk the floors with Gidget, and nothing will make her calm down until she magically passes out. Or, like we just witnessed, someone else comes along and has the perfect touch she'll need at the time. Ask anybody who's had a child—they'll tell you I'm correct."
His advice made sense. Wrinkling my nose at the foul taste in my mouth, I poured myself a fresh cup of tea from the pot I'd set on the table when Eli arrived and settled back to drink it. Eli warmed his own cup while he quietly let me absorb his words. As chatty as Eli could be, he was equally capable of enjoying the occasional comfort of silence. The closer we had gotten over the past few months, the more I came to realize what an amazing friend I'd been gifted through my mate. As I began to relax, I decided to open up about everything tearing me apart.
"I have been pretty stressed lately. It's not simply Gidget, although I am understandably nervous about becoming a parent. It's just been so much change, you know? For twenty years, my life was a structured routine. Change came slowly, related to physical growth. If anything, our rules got stricter as we aged. Don't get me wrong, I don't miss the barn or anything about it. I'm glad those people are dead, and I don't have to worry about finding any forgiveness in my heart for what they did to me and my brothers. I also don't regret finding Lucian or bonding with him. I would want nothing at all about my life to be any different, except maybe I'd like to be a better son."
Holding his cup between his hands, Eli blew on the surface of the hot beverage before tilting his head with a curious frown. "What do you mean? Your mom was leaving when I got here, and you were making plans to bake bread with her tomorrow. Do you have secret voodoo dolls of them you stick with pins every night?"
"Funny. Actually, no, it's not. I'm pretty sure voodoo is real, and we shouldn't joke about it." I set my cup to the side and drummed my fingers against my leg as I sighed. "No, I feel bad because I still haven't started calling them Mom and Dad, even though I know they're dying to hear it. It took me a few to build a connection with them, and it's been getting stronger, especially with the pregnancy. But I don't have the same history with them my brothers do. As much as they want me to instantly be part of the family, I'll never fit in the same way as I should have. We don't share the same inside jokes or memories."