Thirteen

Ethan gawked as Trey pulled in front of a massive iron gate and pushed a button on the intercom outside the driver’s window. The letter M was centered in each gate panel, and a long driveway, flanked by enormous palm trees, snaked toward the hint of the terra cotta roof of a sprawling mansion. Ethan knew that Trey’s father was a well-known Hollywood plastic surgeon. He hadn’t realized that the guy would be majorly loaded.

“Is that really you, sweetheart?” said a woman’s voice from the speaker. “I thought you had another couple of weeks on the road.”

“Let me in, Mom,” Trey said. “I brought someone you’ve been dying to meet.”

“Is it Reagan?” Her excited voice squeaked through the intercom.

“Hi, Mrs. Mills,” Reagan called from the passenger seat, leaning across Trey and waving enthusiastically at the small camera lens above the speaker.

“And someone else too,” Trey said.

Ethan instinctively ducked down in the back seat. He hadn’t wanted to meet Trey’s parents, but Trey had convinced Ethan that he could pretend only to be Reagan’s bodyguard today, present only to protect her against pushy photographers and reporters. He wasn’t sure how he could convince anyone that paparazzi lurked in the Mills’ gated backyard, but it was better than them knowing the truth of his involvement with their son.

“You brought Ethan too?” Mrs. Mills asked.

Ethan froze. She knew about him?

“I thought you said he was too shy to meet us,” she continued.

“Open the gate, Mom,” Trey said, shifting in his seat so he could peer at Ethan in the rearview mirror. “Before he abandons ship.”

A loud buzz sounded before the gate creaked as each panel slid open. Ethan reached for Trey’s shoulder, but Trey gunned the engine, tossing an unprepared Ethan against the back seat.

“What did you tell her?” Ethan asked, shifting forward. He was going to strangle Trey.

“Nothing much,” Trey said, waving a dismissive hand. “Just that I love you and that you give fantastic blow jobs.”

“What!”

Reagan laughed gleefully at Ethan’s expense. Before Ethan could get a good hold on Trey, Trey slammed on the brakes, forcing Ethan’s seat belt to bite into his shoulder before he was flung against the seat again. Trey shoved the transmission into park while releasing his own belt and then escaped through his door. Trey wrapped his arms around a tall slender woman whose hip-long waves of dark hair were streaked with gray. Her multicolor-striped skirt billowed out around her ankles as Trey lifted her off the ground and twirled her around.

Ethan had expected Trey’s mother to be a polished, silicon-enhanced Beverly Hills supermodel or something, so when the Bohemian hippie-type approached the car with a streak of blue paint on her cheek and a welcoming smile on her friendly face, Ethan’s head started spinning. This free spirit was Trey’s mother?

Ethan couldn’t help but smile back as her green-eyed gaze shifted from Reagan to him.

Of course this was Trey’s mother. Who else could have raised a spoiled brat who not only accepted oddities in himself and others, but embraced all sorts of diversity?

Reagan exited the car and looked only slightly uncomfortable when Mrs. Mills squeezed her. “You’re even more lovely in person,” Mrs. Mills said, leaning back and cupping Reagan’s face between her palms. “How are you holding up? Are you sleeping okay? Has Trey been supportive?” When Reagan didn’t respond immediately, Mrs. Mills turned her head and scowled at her son.

“He’s been wonderful. And so has Dare.” Reagan glanced at the car. “And Ethan too.”

Mrs. Mills gave Reagan another squeeze. “If you need anything at all, you can call me, okay? Stay here if you need to. The BHPD are known for keeping the streets free of paparazzi and have a one-minute response time if called to a resident’s house.”

One minute? Ethan thought. Impressive.

Reagan smiled and nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Mom, she’s fine,” Trey insisted. “You don’t need to call the cops on her behalf.”

Mrs. Mills released Reagan and approached the car. She leaned in through the open driver’s window and lifted her eyebrows at Ethan.

“Are you going to come out and give me a hug, or do I have to come in there after you?” she asked.

Ethan hadn’t made a move to even release his seat belt, much less approach the woman.

“Uh.” Warmth rushed up his throat and flooded his face. Was he blushing? No way. The temperature inside the car must be rising from the heat of the sun. “I . . .”

Mrs. Mills opened the back door, and cooler air rushed into the car. “I guess I’m coming in.”

Ethan fumbled with his seat belt—because as uncomfortable as hugging a virtual stranger would be, having her climb in on top of him would be doubly so. She stepped back to let him escape the confines of the car and then gaped up at him when he stood before her.

“Wow,” she said, laying a hand on her cheek. “You didn’t tell me he was such a hunk, Trey.”

“Yes, I did,” Trey said, dropping an arm across Reagan’s shoulders and drawing her against his side. “Tall, dark, and handsome were my exact words.”

“The cliché doesn’t do him justice,” Mrs. Mills said.

Ethan chuckled and opened his arms to draw her against him for a hug. She lingered, taking a moment to squeeze his biceps and pat his pecs.

“Do you ever do nude modeling?” she asked.

Ethan was pretty sure his jaw hit the pavers beneath his feet.

“Mom!” Trey shook his head at her.

“What?” She shrugged. “I’m an artist. I want to see him naked for the sake of art.”

Ethan was definitely blushing now.

“I’m not buying it,” Trey said. “You want to see him naked for the sake of eyes. Yours.”

Reagan laughed. “Nice gig you’ve got there, Mrs. Mills.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, call me Gwen.” Gwen winked at Reagan and looped an arm through hers. “Speaking of gigs, tell me all about yours. What’s it like to be a rock star?”

“Didn’t you raise two of them?” Reagan walked with Mrs. Mills to the house.

“They don’t share much about the whole rockstar experience with me,” she said.

“Maybe that’s a good thing,” Reagan said, her laughter carrying into the house as Mrs. Mills led her inside.

“Sorry for tricking you like that,” Trey said, taking Ethan’s hand and staring down at their entwined fingers. “She wanted to meet you both, and . . .” Trey shrugged. “She’s cool. I promise she’s cool.”

“Does she know the truth about the three of us?” No mother on earth could be that cool. Not even Ethan’s mom, whom he absolutely adored.

Trey nodded, his sultry eyes flicking up to meet Ethan’s through a fringe of long black bangs before he looked down again. “If they love you, parents accept such things. They just want you to be happy.”

Ethan captured Trey’s chin between his thumb and forefinger and tilted his head to stare him in the eye. “I’m not telling my family about any of this, so get it out of your head. Okay?”

“Is that why you think I brought you here?” Trey asked.

Ethan knew that was part of the reason. To show him—and Reagan—that their relationship could be accepted by loved ones. But Ethan’s family wasn’t anything like Trey’s family. Ethan’s half brothers would never accept that he was gay. He knew what several of them had done to a gay classmate back in high school. He knew because he’d watched them do it and he hadn’t told anyone. And Joshua had been too scared to tell anyone. No one crossed the Mendez brothers—that hadn’t changed since high school. He might be able to confide in his mom, but she might let something slip, and then they’d know the truth about their oldest brother. No, it was better if his family never knew.

“I’m happy for you,” Ethan said, drawing a silky lock of Trey’s bangs between his fingertips, “that you have and have always had this great support network. But not everyone is as lucky as you are.”

Trey smiled and lifted a hand to his cheek. “You can borrow my support network anytime you need it.”

How could Ethan not have fallen for this generous, caring man? And how could he be expected not to kiss him in his parents’ driveway? He was still kissing him when a car pulled up beside them.

Ethan jerked away and watched over his shoulder as an unassuming man climbed from a Mercedes. He was of average height, with an average build and thinning brown hair, but Ethan would know that mouth anywhere. He’d just kissed one with an uncanny resemblance.

“Hey, Dad,” Trey said. “You’re home early.”

“Mom said you’d brought a couple of someones home for us to meet. But if you’re trying to keep this under wraps, you might want to reconsider kissing your boyfriend out in the open. There’s a photographer with a wide-angle lens parked across the street at the end of the drive.”

Ethan’s heart skipped a beat, and he turned to glare down the driveway. The slope prevented him from seeing the photographer.

“Unless he’s sitting on the roof of his car, he won’t get a clear shot,” Trey said. “Don’t worry.”

“This photographer was a she,” Dr. Mills said, “and she was still setting up. Just thought I’d warn you.”

“I hate those damned photographers,” Ethan growled.

“Better get used to it if you’re dating my son.”

Ethan doubted he’d ever get used to being watched, but he’d endure it for the sake of being with Trey.

“Let’s go inside,” Trey said. “You can remind me how irresistible you find me in the house.”

Ethan gaped at him, the uncharacteristic blush on his face burning hotter than ever. How could Trey say things like that in front of his father?

“Did you bring the other one?” Dr. Mills said. “Your woman?”

“Mom already commandeered her.”

Dr. Mills chuckled. “Gwen has been going on about her for weeks. Shattering a music glass ceiling and all that.”

Trey lifted a pierced brow at his dad. “There are dozens of women guitarists in the industry.”

“Are they part of one of the top-five-grossing metal bands in the world?”

Trey shrugged. “Well, no.”

Dr. Mills clapped Trey on the back. “Your mother will have Reagan spearheading a new activist movement if you don’t rescue her soon.”

Trey rushed toward the house as if he planned to pull Reagan from some nasty wreckage. Ethan started after him, but Dr. Mills caught his arm, forcing him to walk calmly beside him toward the open front door.

“You look a bit shell-shocked,” Dr. Mills said.

Ethan’s tongue tied itself into a knot. “I . . . well . . . isn’t it unusual . . . I mean . . .” What did he mean? Trey’s parents seemed wonderfully open, but frankly, Ethan found their acceptance of their son’s unusual lifestyle mind-bogglingly odd. He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. Dare was as okay with Trey’s proclivities as their parents appeared to be, but Dare was young and open-minded. Dare was a rock star who’d probably seen just about everything there was to see. Trey’s parents were, well, parents.

“You can’t change who people are on the inside,” Dr. Mills said. “Though I do get paid a hefty fee for changing them on the outside.” He laughed and slapped Ethan on the back. “You can let your guard down here. Except in the front drive. Do you think I should call the cops? They’ll make the photographer leave the neighborhood.”

Ethan caught a glare at the bottom of the drive. The sun reflecting off a camera lens, he decided. “The tabloids aren’t going to go away until they’ve destroyed us or they get bored with their three new toys, are they?”

“Not unless you can convince them there isn’t a story here,” Dr. Mills said.

Ethan rubbed a hand over his jaw. Now there was an idea. But how exactly did he pull that off?

“I suggest you come out with the truth, honesty being the best policy and all that.”

Ethan chuckled. “You sound just like your son.”

“Which one?”

“Both of them, actually, but especially Dare.”

“I guess their mother and I did something right.”

If Ethan had openly been anything like Dare or Trey, his mother and stepfather would have disowned him.

Dr. Mills ushered Ethan inside and closed the door behind them with a comforting click. No photographers there, just an amazing assortment of colorful and bizarre artwork. Brilliant sunlight filtered down from a glass dome in the ceiling, highlighting paintings and sculptures and fragments of colored tiles forming murals on the foyer walls and pillars and floor. Even the tiered table at the center of it all appeared to be a mixed-media sculpture of some sort, with a giant saw blade at its center, several additional smaller blades forming additional platforms, and an eclectic set of chairs ranging from antique wood to a child-size red PVC chair to form the piece’s many legs. It reminded Ethan of some deadly alien insect.

“My wife won’t be happy until every inch of this enormous house has her stamp on it.” Dr. Mills set his briefcase down on the largest saw blade. The sharp edges were covered with a protective clear plastic. Ethan imagined Trey running around this dangerous-looking thing as a child and shuddered.

“Gwen, sweetheart,” Dr. Mills called into the cavernous house. “Come out, come out, wherever you are.”

Ethan was still gawking at one of the wall murals, finding that up close, the tiles were interspersed with bottle caps and bolt washers and bits of broken compact disks that added shine to the fish scales in the design.

“This is remarkable,” Ethan said.

“Trey inherited all of his talents from his mother,” Dr. Mills said.

Probably not all of his talents. Ethan stifled a wry grin. He was pretty sure that talented tongue of Trey’s was a learned skill, not an inherited one. Then again, Dr. Mills seemed a very happy man. Maybe Trey had inherited such skills from his mother.

Disturbed by the direction of his thoughts, Ethan wandered into the parlor off the left of the foyer. Trey found him there a few minutes later, examining the fireplace mantel.

“I was wondering where you were,” Trey said. “Genevieve is making a cherry cobbler. You won’t want to miss it.”

“You won’t want to miss it,” Ethan said, patting Trey’s back. “You must have had a very . . . uh . . . colorful childhood.”

Trey tilted his head as he studied the faces along the sides of the mantel. They’d been fashioned from chips of colored bricks and were easily identifiable as Trey at various ages on the left side and a progressively aging Dare on the right.

“You know, she didn’t start going crazy with the house until after Dare and I were grown and out on our own.” His smile was a little sad. “I think she misses us.”

“She’d probably like a few grandchildren in her future,” Ethan said.

“That’s up to Dare.” Trey laughed. “And believe me, she hounds him about it constantly.”

“Where’s Reagan?” Ethan asked.

“Listening to my mom gab. The poor woman lived in a house full of boys and men her entire adult life. She’s overwhelmingly happy to have a woman in the family.” Trey wrapped an arm around Ethan’s shoulders and leaned in close. “Though I’m sure she’ll love you just as much. Assuming you stop isolating yourself.”

“Is that what I’m doing?”

“Isn’t it?”

Ethan shrugged. “There’s a lot to see in this house. Amazing things. I’ve never seen a home like this before.”

“There’s no other place like it.” Trey slid a hand up Ethan’s chest until his palm covered Ethan’s heart. It began to thud at the promise in Trey’s eyes. “Do you want to check out the pool behind the house? Mom’s murals started there. You can see how her work has progressed with time.”

“I’d like that.”

“And I can see you without your shirt on.”

Trey’s other hand slid up under Ethan’s shirt, his fingers skimming over Ethan’s bare belly. The muscles there tightened as unanticipated waves of lust clenched deep inside Ethan.

“Trey,” Ethan protested as his touch grew bolder. “Not here.”

“Would you like to see my bedroom?” Trey deftly unfastened the button of Ethan’s pants.

“What are you—”

Trey nipped the sensitive flesh at Ethan’s throat, causing Ethan to suck an excited breath through his teeth.

“I feel safe here,” Trey said. “I want you to feel that way too.”

“What I’m feeling,” Ethan said, drawing Trey’s seeking hand from his pants, “is uncomfortable. Your parents could walk in at any moment.”

“That’s why I wanted to show you my bedroom,” he said. “I’ll lock the door.”

“Trey . . .”

“If you don’t want to fuck me . . .”

Oh, but he did. Just not here.

“. . . I’d settle for a hand job.”

Trey took Ethan’s hand and led him away from the childhood shrine fireplace mantel and back into the foyer. Ethan could hear voices and laughter from deeper in the house, but they didn’t go in that direction. They followed a set of curved marble steps to the second floor. Ethan might have paid more attention to the series of paintings along the hall’s lengthy wall if Trey hadn’t been walking backwards in front of him, holding his gaze as securely as he was holding his hand. The naughty imp was going to get far more than a hand job if he kept looking at Ethan with that fuck-me-hard expression on his face.

Trey opened a door near the end of the hall and tugged Ethan inside. He closed the door quietly behind them and locked it with a barely audible click. The room was large, its deep-red walls decorated with large posters of rock bands—many that Ethan didn’t recognize. A collage of photos hung over a sturdy black dresser. Ethan recognized a teenaged Trey and Dare, and in almost every shot, someone he wished he didn’t recognize—Brian Sinclair. Familiar but unwanted jealousy clawed at Ethan’s gut, and he jerked his gaze away from the images of fun and friendship and easily recognizable love.

“He took my virginity in this room,” Trey said, standing beside Ethan now, smiling fondly at the photographs.

“Is that why you brought me here?” Ethan asked, backing away. “I don’t want to hear this.”

Trey caught his arm. “I need you to hear it, Ethan. I’ve never told anyone the details of what happened that night, not even my brother. But I want you to know, because . . .”

Trey blinked back a sudden flood of tears and Ethan crushed him against his chest. “Don’t do that.”

Trey sniffed against Ethan’s shoulder. “Sorry.”

Ethan’s arms tightened around him. “No, I’m sorry. You can cry on my shoulder any time you need to.”

“I shouldn’t be this emotional,” he murmured. “I’m over Brian now. Our past shouldn’t matter to me anymore.”

Ethan’s embrace tightened. He wished he could believe that Trey was truly over Brian, but he could almost guarantee that Trey’s past with his first love would always matter to him. And that was okay. Ethan was the one holding Trey now; Brian hadn’t wanted him. Ethan was sorry that fact had hurt Trey so many times in the past, but he was secretly glad that his competition for Trey’s affection had never taken the heart so recklessly thrown in his direction.

“Tell me what you brought me here to say,” Ethan said, struggling to keep his embrace from crushing Trey.

“Brian used to spend the night here a lot when we were in school. His dad wasn’t home much and his mom was cold—there’s no other way to describe her. My parents are . . . You’ve met them. They’re free with their affection. Brian was like another son to them.”

“Did you have feelings for him from the beginning?” Why was he asking that? Did he really want to be as jealous of the teenaged Brian as he was of the adult version?

“Since fifth grade?” Trey pulled away so he could see Ethan’s eyes. Humor teased the corner of Trey’s sensual mouth. “I’m not that obsessed.”

“When?”

“I don’t think it was until that night. Or maybe the second.”

“How many times—”

“Just those two.” Trey grinned crookedly. “Not for my lack of trying. I can’t count how many times I threw myself at him. I made a complete fool of myself.”

“Didn’t he get tired of rejecting you?”

Trey chuckled. “I guess not. Maybe he liked the attention.”

“He probably misses it,” Ethan said.

“He’s probably relieved.” Trey laughed. “We were always better as friends than as lovers. I can’t deny that.”

“I won’t be upset if you tell me he sucks in bed.”

Trey laughed and kissed him. “At the time, I thought it was amazing, but now that I’ve had you . . .” His lips caressed Ethan’s jaw.

“I’m sure you’ve had better.”

“Never.” Trey’s lips moved to Ethan’s throat. “You and Reagan are the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Same here.”

Trey went still, his voice low and calm as he said, “It started like any other night. Brian and I practiced guitar for a while. We had dinner with my family. We came up to my room to play a video game or something. We decided it would be fun to sneak some booze, so I lifted a bottle from my dad’s liquor cabinet. We drank vodka—a lot of vodka—and were goofing around on the Internet. We ended up watching porn. Not too unusual for a couple of fifteen-year-old boys left to their own devices.”

“If I’d have had internet as a teen, I’d have never left my room,” Ethan said with a chuckle.

“Brian got really turned on by this chick getting fucked in the ass. I don’t know if he’d never seen anal before or what, but the tent in his pajama bottoms was impossible to ignore. I told him he could whack off in front of me if he needed to. We were friends. it was no big deal. I really didn’t think it was a big deal until he pulled it out and started stroking it. I’d never been so turned on in my life, even though I was confused by my excitement. I wanted him doing to me what that girl in the video was having done to her. So I offered to touch him with my hand in a sock, because, you know, I wouldn’t be actually touching it, so that was okay.”

Ethan chuckled. “That’s totally not gay.”

Trey grinned at him. “I know, right? He was really getting into it—me jerking him off with that sock—and I was so hard, my stomach was in knots. He liked what I was doing even more when I pulled off the sock. Even more when I kissed his dick, licked it, sucked it, got my first taste of his pre-cum.”

Ethan remembered his first homosexual experience all too well. But he’d been on the receiving end. His partner had sucked him off in the front seat of their police cruiser while they’d been staking out a suspected meth lab.

“I pulled my pants down, wanting a little reciprocation, you know,” Trey said.

“Naturally.”

“Next thing I know, he presses me against the side of the bed, holds my wrists behind my back, and shoves his cock in my ass. He kept saying, pretend you’re a girl, pretend you’re a girl. I didn’t want to pretend I was a girl. I wanted him to reach around and stroke my dick while he fucked me, but he wouldn’t touch me.”

“That’s disappointing.”

“I don’t know; he’s hung. He fucked me to orgasm even though he didn’t have any idea what he was doing.”

“You’re supposed to tell me that he sucks in bed, remember?”

“If that experience hadn’t opened my eyes to the pleasure of being fucked senseless, I’d say it wasn’t perfect, but I’d be lying. I came so hard, I swear I blacked out for a few seconds. And when Brian recognized how much I liked being fucked, he came inside me. I thought he’d liked it too—as much as I did—but he completely freaked out afterwards. He hid in the bathroom for over an hour. Meanwhile, I dipped my fingers into the load I’d blown all over the side of my bed and shoved my fingers up my ass so our cum could mingle inside me. How fucked up is that?”

“It’s more fucked up that he left you there. What did he say when he finally came back?”

“Nothing. I pretended to be asleep. The next day we acted like nothing had happened between us.”

“That must have been hard for you.”

Trey shrugged. “Not really. I just blew it off as a onetime mistake. It was our second time together that really fucked with my head.”

“Did he pretend you were a girl that time?”

Trey shook his head. “He looked me in eyes the entire time. It was like he was trying to decide if he wanted to be with me—as a couple. I gave him my fucking heart that night and when he’d finished me and finished himself, he said, we can’t ever do this again. I didn’t think he was serious. What we’d shared had been so beautiful. So perfect. It was the most powerful connection I’d ever felt with anyone. But Brian was serious. We never did it again. No matter how many times or in how many ways I tried to make him mine, he was true to his word.”

“You probably don’t want to hear how much I hate him right now.”

“Don’t hate him for knowing what he wanted. Or rather what he didn’t want. He’s always stood beside me through everything.” Trey grinned crookedly. “Unfortunately, he never stood behind me again. Did I mention that he’s hung?”

Ethan squeezed Trey’s ass in both hands, drawing a tormented groan from his lover’s throat. He knew Trey was trying to make light of a matter that had scarred him deeply.

“Better hung than I am?” Ethan lifted his brows in challenge.

“Yep, and just as thick.”

“Are you trying to make me jealous?”

“Just stating facts.”

Ethan scowled. Trey stroked the tense muscles in his face.

“Do you know how I said I’d never felt a stronger connection with anyone than when Brian was staring into my eyes as he fucked me?”

Ethan looked away, unable to stand the look of love in Trey’s eyes when he knew it was directed at well-hung Brian Sinclair.

“I’ve felt an even stronger connection since then,” Trey said. “With Reagan.” Trey grabbed Ethan’s jaw and forced him to meet his gaze. “And with you. Brian secured my devotion for ten years with that connection. How long do you think I’ll be devoted to you when I feel an even stronger connection with you multiple times a day?”

“I’m hoping forever,” Ethan said, his voice gruff with emotion.

“Forever and a day,” Trey whispered.

“What happens when I’m too old to fuck you?”

“First, I hope that never happens. Second, you don’t honestly think the only time I feel connected to you is when you’re buried balls deep in my ass, do you?”

“You made it sound that way.”

“Every time our eyes meet, I feel it. Every time I hear your voice, I feel it. Every time we touch, I feel it. Even when I think of you, I feel it. I feel it with Reagan too.”

“Have you ever told her this?”

“She knows. I’m sure she knows.”

“She might need a reminder.” Ethan stroked Trey’s hair back from his face, beard scruff scraping against Ethan’s fingertips. “Do you need a reminder too?”

Trey pressed his lips together, his green eyes going shiny with repressed tears. He nodded slightly.

“I love you,” Ethan said, knowing his words weren’t as eloquent as Trey’s had been, but he had no idea how to explain his deep and complicated feelings in a way that would do them justice.

“Yeah, but do you ever wish I was a girl?”

Ethan smiled. “Not even for a second. I’m glad Reagan’s a girl, though.”

“So am I. We should probably go find her. Everyone is going to think we snuck away for a little private time.”

“Isn’t that what we did?”

Trey nodded. “I probably should have included Reagan in this conversation, but there are just some situations I feel you’d understand better than she would.”

“She’s very understanding about such situations. When she caught me with Joseph, she was heartbroken, but she didn’t kick me out of the apartment. She encouraged me to talk to her about my feelings.”

“You talked to someone about your feelings?”

Ethan couldn’t help but laugh at Trey’s flabbergasted expression.

“Well, no, I didn’t. But it wasn’t because I didn’t want her to know how I was feeling. I didn’t understand my feelings myself at the time. I’ve always wondered if she’d have been so accommodating of my shitty behavior if she’d caught me cheating with another woman instead of a man.”

Trey scowled. “Let’s not find out.”

His distrustful words punched Ethan in the gut. “Once a cheater always a cheater? Is that what you’re getting at?”

“Should I be worried?”

“Never. I blew it once with Reagan, and it was the stupidest mistake I ever made. I refuse to fuck this up, not when I have everything I could possibly want or need with the two of you in my life.” Well, except a career that didn’t make him feel like a mooch, but Ethan would figure that out once he felt Reagan could tour the world safely on her own. He scowled at the direction of his thoughts. If she was on her own, that meant she’d be without him for lengthy stretches of time. Perhaps Ethan would put more effort into being an essential member of Exodus End’s security team. He was disappointed in himself for not taking more initiative already. Being complacent wasn’t like him. He blamed his lack of ambition on being in love with two people at once. It was challenging enough to keep one’s head out of the clouds and feet on the ground when in love with one person; he currently had a double dose of the loopies going on. And then there was the sting his ego had taken for being kicked off the force. They’d called him not a hero but a liability. A liability. Just because he’d rearranged some woman-beater’s face. Ethan supposed lawsuits were far more frightening than criminals to some people. He wasn’t one. He didn’t regret beating the shit out of that asshole. Even knowing the consequences, he’d have done the same thing again. He just wished he could help more people. But his current state of affairs didn’t lend itself to that impulse.

“Ethan.” Trey shook his shoulders.

Ethan blinked hard to force his gaze to focus. “What?”

“You’re off in your own little world there. What are you thinking about so hard?”

“Nothing much. Work mostly.”

Trey’s ornery grin refocused Ethan’s attention at once.

“Is that what you call following Reagan around all day?”

“I do get paid to do it,” Ethan said, trailing Trey out of his stuffy bedroom and into the breezy hallway.

“Some guys have all the luck.”

Ethan could hear someone in the distance calling for Trey. “I think we’ve been missed,” Ethan said.

“They can’t expect me to pass up a chance at being sucked off by the gorgeous tough guy my mother wants to see naked.”

“But I didn’t—”

Trey laughed at Ethan’s expression.

“We were gone for quite a while,” Trey teased, hurrying out of Ethan’s reach. “You could have sucked me off three times over in that time.”

“Trey,” Ethan whispered harshly. “Don’t make your parents think that I did that to you under their roof.”

“Did what?”

“Blew you,” Ethan said under his breath.

“Would you be mortified?”

“Yes!” he hissed, chasing Trey down the stairs so the fool wouldn’t have time to make embarrassing announcements before Ethan could stop him. Why did he put up with this guy?

When Trey stopped short at the foot of the steps, allowing Ethan to capture him, he knew exactly why he put up with Trey. The man was irresistible. He was also loving, generous, and fun, not to mention as sexy as sin.

Ethan held Trey’s back securely against his chest and pressed his face into the crook of Trey’s neck. Ethan’s heart pumped vigorously as he found that the prey he hadn’t realized he was stalking was at his mercy.

“You’d better get that hard-on under control,” Trey said. “I guarantee those approaching footsteps are my mother’s.”

Footsteps? Ethan had been so wrapped up in Trey, he hadn’t even heard the soft cadence echoing lightly off the mosaic tiles of the foyer.

“There you two are,” Gwen said, her smile never faltering as she took in her son in a compromising position with another man. “The cobbler just came out of the oven. I know you prefer it warm.”

“With melting vanilla ice cream on top,” Trey said, covering Ethan’s forearms with his hands so he couldn’t pull away.

“Obviously,” his mother said. “Reagan said if you didn’t turn up soon, she was going to eat both your shares.”

“Sounds like something she’d do.”

Feeling a tad uncomfortable but, surprisingly, not mortified, Ethan followed Trey and his mother toward the kitchen at the back of the house.

“She’s delightful,” Mrs. Mills said. “So enthusiastic and vibrant and witty. I can see why you fell for her.” She peeked over her shoulder to catch Ethan’s eye. “Why both of you fell for her.”

Ethan shifted his gaze to the wall, unable to believe that Mrs. Mills really thought their relationship was acceptable.

“You forgot to mention she’s talented,” Trey said. “And apparently she’s even better on cello than electric guitar.”

“It’s a fact,” Ethan said. She tried to hide her love for the instrument her father had forced her to take up as a child, but when she played, the bond she had with the music—classical music—was magical.

“You’ve heard her play?” Trey asked, hesitating for a step so that Ethan would walk beside him instead of behind him.

Ethan smiled. “Many times.”

“Unfair.” Trey scowled.

“I don’t think she’s played cello at all since she signed with Exodus End.”

“Maybe she’ll play something for me,” Gwen said. “Your rock music gives me a headache.”

Trey laughed and hugged his mom with one arm. “You poor woman. Having to put up with two budding rock stars in your house must have been pure torture.”

“Why do you think we built the pool house?”

Trey’s jaw dropped. “So you didn’t have to listen to us play? Does Dare know you hate us both?”

“I could never hate you, sweetheart, but I was going through so many earplugs with you and your friends always jamming in the main house.”

“Earplugs!”

Ethan chuckled, suddenly missing his own mother. She was a great woman—similar in many ways to Gwen. If not for his brothers, Ethan would have liked her to meet Trey. She’d have a great time teasing him. But Ethan doubted she’d keep his secret from the rest of the family, and he didn’t want his stepfather and brothers to know he was a disgusting faggot. He could hear them using that odious word in his head, because they’d used it in reference to other gay men. Ethan wasn’t sure how he’d react if they referred to Trey in a derogatory manner. He’d likely go off the deep end. Best to not risk it, he decided.

Reagan was seated at the dining table, one undoubtedly of Gwen’s design. The top consisted of an enormous old door—maybe from some medieval castle—and the legs appeared to be fashioned from the bottoms of lamp posts. Each chair around the table was unique. Ethan settled into the one that seem inspired by an Andy Warhol painting of soup cans.

Reagan was talking animatedly to Dr. Mills about killer whales in captivity. Ethan hadn’t realized she was passionate about wild animals being protected in their natural habitats.

“Try thinking of them as ambassadors for their species,” Dr. Mills was saying. “Thousands of people see their performances each year, cementing a bond with the animal, so they become aware of the animal’s plight and are more likely to do something about it. If you never saw a killer whale for yourself, you probably wouldn’t give them a second thought.”

“Just so you know,” Trey said, sitting across the table from Reagan, “no matter which side you’re on, my dad will take the opposing side. The man loves to argue and will not back down until he thinks he’s won.”

“That’s not true,” Dr. Mills said.

“You see?” Trey said. “He even argues about arguing.”

Gwen set a plate in front of Trey, and his father stole his spoon. “I’ll teach you to argue with me, son.”

Trey picked up a gooey cherry with his fingers and popped it into his mouth. “Like that’s going to stop me,” he said.

Dr. Mills turned to Ethan, his green eyes, so like Trey’s, wide and inquisitive. “Reagan tells me that you used to be a police officer. Why did you quit?”

Ethan supposed he’d eventually have to participate in the conversation. That didn’t mean he was prepared to answer prying questions.

“Dad,” Trey admonished. “Ethan doesn’t like to talk about himself.”

“So that would make him your exact opposite, wouldn’t it?” Dr. Mills teased, drawing a chuckle from Ethan.

Trey snatched his spoon from his father’s hand and scooped up some melting vanilla ice cream. Ethan picked up his spoon to sample the sweet-looking dessert. He didn’t care for sweets in general, but if eating would allow him to avoid revealing his darkest secrets, he’d endure.

About halfway through dessert—the conversation had turned to all the places they’d be traveling to when they headed overseas in a few weeks—Dare breezed into the room.

“We weren’t expecting you!” Gwen said, obviously delighted to see her eldest son.

“Does that mean I should get lost?” Dare asked, dropping a kiss on her upturned cheek and another on Reagan’s.

“Sit down,” Gwen said. “I’ll get you some cobbler.”

“I see you’re spoiling the brat again,” Dare said, grinning at Trey, who’d long before finished his cobbler and now repeatedly leaned across the wide table to steal cherries from Ethan’s plate.

“It’s a tough job,” she said as she went into the kitchen.

“Well?” Reagan said, her rosy complexion going grayish.

“What?” Dare asked, sinking into the chair next to Trey.

“How did the press conference go?”

“Oh, that,” Dare said. “It was fine.”

“That’s all you’re going to tell me?”

“Max diverted all your questions to Steve, who insisted he was too hung over to respond.”

“How pissed was Sam?”

“Pissed, but he kept his mouth shut. We opened by telling everyone that the entire band would rather be in Los Angeles supporting a dear friend in his time of need.”

“I tried to call Sed this morning,” Trey said. “He really is torn up about this. So much so that I was allowed to talk to Jessica because he didn’t think he could talk.”

“We should go see him,” Reagan said. “Even if he thinks he doesn’t want us to.”

“Did Toni get ahold of you?” Dare asked Reagan, who scowled at him.

“No.”

“Logan called this morning. Toni’s little sister is in the hospital.”

“What? Is she okay?”

“Something’s wrong with her heart, but I think she’ll be fine. Logan feels terrible about missing the funeral tomorrow, but thinks Toni needs his support more than Sed does.”

“Of course she does. Toni adores her sister. I’m sure Logan is a tremendous comfort to her.” Reagan stood from the table and pulled her cellphone out of her pocket. “I need to call her.”

“I thought you hated her for leaking your secrets to the tabloids,” Ethan said.

“If it was really her, and I now honestly doubt that, I’ll chew her out later. I’m sure she can use a friend right now, but she’s probably terrified to call me.”

Ethan smiled at her. Reagan might be too forgiving for her own good sometimes, but he knew firsthand how wonderful it was to be granted her forgiveness. Ethan was blessed to have two amazing loves in his life. He would do everything in his power to ensure no one ever took them away from him.