Raising Riven

Hayden

Fourteen flights.

Hayden scaled them on Saturdays, never deterred by the dangerously tilted fire escape. After all, Saturday was Waffle Day at Declan′s. Rusted rails and slanted steps be damned. Nothing could stand between Hayden and waffles.

In light of last night′s events, he opted to pay an earlier visit. He caught his breath on the last step at first blush, startled as he surreptitiously slid the sill open to Declan′s kitchen, met by the messy-haired boy himself, whose tired features came alive as he clamped the window shut, exclaiming, ″NO!″

Hayden blinked. ″Dec, what the hell? It′s me.″

He looked livid. ″You′re early,″ he retorted. Or rather, hissed.

″I came to check on you.″

″I′m fine. Come back in an hour.″

″What, why?″

″Pancakes aren′t ready.″

″Duh, I′m the one who makes them.″

″I′ll make them.″

″Fine, I′ll wait on the couch.″

″NO!″

″Dude, what the —″

He clamped his palm over Hayden′s mouth. ″Don′t cuss.″

″Mm, hmm — ugh!″ He pried the boy′s fingers off his lips. ″Quit it, Saint Declan. What′s your deal?!″

″Shh,″ Declan hissed. ″He′s asleep.″

Hayden bit back a curse, seething. ″Seriously? I bet it′s Stanley.″

Stan, the delivery man. Stan, whose hardcore crush on Declan became everyone′s business the day he mailed him a gigantic bouquet of roses, only to have them delivered to the block′s resident bitch, Mila. You′d think, given his job, he′d at least get the address right.

Alas, Declan recoiled in disgust. ″Ew, no! I meant the baby, jerk.″

″You kept him?!″ Hayden gasped.

He fell silent, tense. So basically, yes. He freaking kidnapped the baby.

Shadows rimmed his eyes. By the looks of it, he′d been up all night. ″Dude, you look like a freaking raccoon. Also, are you out of your mind?″

″Yeah, yeah.″ He expelled a sigh, waving dismissively. ″Come in, mom.″

Hayden narrowed his eyes, crawling through the window. His feet landed with a thud on the floor of Declan′s studio apartment, eyes tracing the chipped walls and creaky floorboards. ″I thought I told you to be quiet,″ Declan hissed.

″Shut up.″

Declan said nothing, but shifted his gaze towards the couch. Hayden′s mouth fell open to expel a string of profanity, but closed involuntarily as he beheld the sight before him.

A little infant lay sprawled in a bundle of newly-washed sheets, sound asleep. Hayden faced Declan, only to find the latter′s eyes locked on his, desperate and pleading. His voice came out a hoarse whisper, but the words were crystal clear. ″I think I love him.″

A single tear traced his cheek. Against his better judgement, Hayden made a decision in that moment. If this child made him happy, then he would do everything in his power, and then some, to ensure that he reserved the right to raise this baby.

Hayden thumbed over the tear, nodding in silent agreement. ″You sure as hell better give me extra maple syrup for this.″