My cock is so fucking hard it feels like concrete.

I’ve had a hard-on half the night, but after tasting her, my dick is screaming to sink deep inside that pussy of hers and make up for all the years I've spent without a good fuck in one frantic, unforgettable night.

“The beginning?” she says breathlessly.

I look at her and nod.

Her smile is serene. Sexy. I think it’s the twinkle in her eyes that makes my pulse race harder, though.

“Good,” she says, tugging on my shirt. “Because I've been waiting to see you, Hunter. All night.” She lets out a long sigh. “I’d help, but I can’t move yet.”

I laugh at her honesty. “Well, then, if you’re too tired...”

“I’m not too tired! Just...more like rebuilding my strength.”

Little minx. She knows I won't follow through on my threat to walk away. Wouldn't turn down the chance to get between her legs for anything.

She's so fucking perfect with her messy blonde hair and long legs beckoning up to her pink. She was gorgeous before, but now, fully naked?

Fuck.

That little black number she wore tonight turned every head in the room. I’ve never been so proud to be that guy. The man with the hottest chick in the room, the knockout who's been hiding behind her own fears and doubts for too long.

I throw my clothes off in record time, and then grab a condom out of my bag. I’d bought a fresh pack yesterday, hoping this is exactly how things would work out.

Her lying on the bed, naked, with her hair spread out across the pillows and her perky tits begging for my hands and tongue.

Wendy watches as I roll on the condom and then climb on the bed.

“I’ve never seen that before,” she says, running a finger down my chest.

“What?”

“This.” She touches the end of my cock.

She’s never seen someone put on a condom? “Why?” I ask her.

Her grimace is adorable, and so is her shrug. “Because I’ve never had sex.”

I freeze. Become stone. Everything except my cock. It just throbs harder.

“Bullshit? You're telling me you're a –”

“Yeah. Virgin. Guilty.” Her cheeks turn cherry red, pun intended. “I mean...I’ve pleasured myself, but that doesn't count.”

I can't speak. Air is lodged like wet cement in my lungs.

“It's been a long time coming, and I want you to be the first, Hunter. Really, really want it.”

Fuck me with a lightning rod.

I’ve purposefully stayed away from virgins. Never needed the extra complication, the drama, but the idea that’s she’s never been with anyone else – ever – thrills me in this wicked, animal way.

I can feel it in my blood. Raw greed. This hunger to take her, mark her, own her in a way she'll never forget. This raging need to brand my name all over the blank slate of her body with teeth and tongue and hard, furious strokes of my hips.

It's a bear just to breathe again, but I do. I have to give her fair warning.

“You’re sure? Last chance, Wendy. Because once we start, we don't stop.”

“Very, very sure.” She shifts her legs, spreading them wider, showing me that slick, wet heat at her center. “I’m hot and bothered just thinking about it. Don't make me think too long.”

Her honesty is fucking amazing. So is the way she gives herself to me, pussy begging with every bit of her soul.

Sweet fuck. I get a mad thrill of satisfaction knowing how bad I turn her on, and my dick jerks at the idea of being buried deep inside her.

Holding back is killing me. “Then it's time. Leave it to me to get you up to speed, babe.”

Her eyes are locked on mine, full of lust. “Please, Hunter. Give it all to me.”

And I do.

Slowly, teasingly, I push two fingers into her pussy. She's all hot, wet, and ready. I fuck her with just my hands for a few strokes, find the spot along her walls, watching her eyes roll back while she creams.

Then I position myself between her legs, barely able to hear over the roar of blood in my ears, my heartbeat moving into my dick.

“We'll go slow, at first, let your little pussy get used to me.”

“Whatever you think,” she whispers, still holding my gaze.

Her trust is just as amazing as her honesty. And they're both almost as incredible as she looks right now, wide open, aching for every inch of me.

Snarling, I grip the base of my cock in one fist, then guide it into her.

She lets out a sexy moan and sinks her shoulders into the bed, raising her hips up to meet me. I'm engulfed in young pussy, wet and eager and divine. And so fucking tight.

A little farther, to the hilt, and then I hold a few seconds until I can't take it. I have to rear back, and then slam myself into her so hard we both shake.

“Hunter,” she moans my name again. “Oh, yes. God, yes.”

That's all the encouragement I need. Her pussy opens more for me, stroke by stroke. I fuck myself into her deeper, three more times, going in to my balls while my spine goes electric.

She gasps.

I stop myself from another thrust and give her a kiss, asking one question in my eyes. We okay?

Her smile is pure sex. “I'm fine.”

And she lets me know how fine, hooking her heels behind my knees, thrusting up against me. Her hips meet mine, urging me on harder, and we find our rhythm.

I start to move, faster, in and out, loving the pleasure appearing on her face. I've seen a few virgins melt down in my time, but fuck, it's never been hotter than this.

Her, with her blonde locks whipping around her face the longer and faster we fuck, that sheen of sweat around her brow making her face glow, urging me on.

Her, raking at my back, all nails and a groan on her lips, the same sharp word hissing out over and over again.

Yes. Yes. Yes!

Her, sexier than sin itself. My Sugar. My Spice.

Her pussy. My dick. Our fuck.

Curious, I ask, “What have you tried?”

Our hips move with their own mad energy. We roll back and collide into each other again, our pleasure building faster and faster, until her pussy starts constricting my cock. It sucks and pulls with that desperate need that tells me she's ten seconds or less away from exploding.

“Hunter!” My name is just a hoarse whimper on her lips.

That's my signal. Pulling her legs up against my shoulders, I pound into her, fucking like mad, fucking like there's no tomorrow for either of us because honestly there might not be.

I have no earthly clue what happens after I've fucked this beautiful woman numb.

It's going to be complicated, wild, and all kinds of screwy. And maybe not knowing what comes next just makes me thrust harder in the moment, growling as her legs start shaking, and she's this damn close.

“Come for me, Sugar. Come so sweet it hurts.”

Watching this woman fall to pieces, clenching at my cock, is the hottest thing I've ever seen in my life.

I almost lose myself there. Bust in her like I'm eighteen and getting my first lap dance, and it takes all my years of discipline and sporadic, angry sex to keep fucking through her O.

She's still trembling when her little pussy eases its hold, gradually opening her soft hazel eyes again.

Leaning down, I press her lips to mine, slowing my strokes so I can drink her in. “Listen, you're one remarkable, incredible young woman, Wendy Agnes. Especially when you come like that.”

“Not half as incredible as you,” she whispers, running her fingers through my hair.

I smile. Does she really think I'll let her get away with that?

After tonight, when I've done everything in my power to show her how amazing she is?

I kiss her deeper, owning her tongue, and then this strange, chemical thing between us ignites.

It's like an engine someone just kick-started. Our tongues twist and curl, faster and faster, in perfect sync with our bodies. I swallow her moan, she tastes my growl, and my cock drives on, deeper and faster and harder in her trembling pussy.

Deeper, faster, harder until Sugar and Spice is mine.

Her arms are hooked around me now, like I’m her personal lifeline, the only thing saving her from flying away. I fucking love it.

Love the pressure, the white hot pleasure building inside me, too.

She’s everything tonight. All I can think of.

Wendy breaks the kiss first, gasping for air. I’m gasping, too, but I don't stop for anything.

Just notch up the speed between us, feeling how sweet her cunt clenches my dick, crazy for my seed.

She’s on the brink of release. And I can't hold back the fire in my balls to save the world.

Her eyes go wider and her nails dig into my skin. I pump harder, press my forehead to hers, giving as good as she gives in this frantic, sexy marathon.

“Hunter, oh hell! I'm –” Pure ecstasy chokes her off mid-speech.

“That’s it, Sugar,” I snarl, surprised I can even talk. “Come the fuck with me.”

Because I've hit my limit, too, and it’s perfection. Just a hot, pulsing bomb at the base of my cock. Fire ripping up my spine as my balls unload, my whole body jerking as I pour my seething heat into her. I wonder if the condom will even hold as my dick pulses, deep inside her, full body writhing with every jet heaving out of me.

It's a high, a rush, a moment that could give the most taboo drug in the world stiff competition.

I barely realize what's happening when she grabs my head and kisses me. Over and over.

Then we're two spent, shaking bodies both sinking lower, into the mattress. I brace my weight on my arms and lift my head. My heart wells when I open my eyes and see the smile on her face.

“That.” She sucks in air. “Was amazing.” She laughs like an angel. “Beyond amazing. Where'd you ever learn –”

“You, babe. I haven't ever fucked anybody like that till you.” The worst part is, it's not even a lie.

All I can think as I flop back at her side, pulling her into my arms, is that Sugar and Spice may have just ruined me for sex.

I give her a gentle kiss, knowing this woman has marked me as deep as I've done to her.

We lay there for a while, letting our pleasure settle before I get up and take care of the condom. I bring her back a glass of mineral water from the bathroom.

“Thank you.” She drinks most of it and then sets the glass on the table. Glancing toward the window, she sighs.

A major amount of the euphoria still floating inside me dissolves.

I brace myself for the second thoughts, considering ways to combat whatever she’s about to say.

“So, about what happened –”

“The best sex of my life?” I ask, jumping on the bed beside her. “What about it?”

She shakes her head. “No, not about that.” Frowning slightly, she asks, “Was it really the best?”

I answer by bringing my lips to her shoulder, adding a quick nip of my teeth. Whatever else is clouding her mind, I want it gone. Now.

Her cheeks go rosy as she turns, smiling. “Oh, God.”

“What?”

“You're serious about the sex, aren't you?” She shakes her head. “Wait. Don’t answer that. We need to talk about what happened downstairs.”

“Oh, that.” I grab the top of the bedspread from under the pillow with one hand and raise myself up with my other to push the covers toward the foot of the bed. She lifts up too, pushes her side down, and then slides her feet under the covers before pulling them up to her waist.

I lean back against the pillows, then wrap a snug arm around her. I grin because there isn’t any resistance, how she snuggles up against my side.

“Don’t worry about Ricardo,” I say, fully knowing Ricardo isn't what she’s worried about. “He’s probably already thrown up by now. If not, they’ll digest like everything else.”

She slaps my chest. “I’m not talking about Ricardo, Hunter.”

“You’re not?”

“No.”

I try to sound thoughtful. “Wonder if he expects a hundred bucks per fish? Damn, I only gave Josh one Benjamin. Guess I’ll have to get his address and mail him a couple hundred more. Extra for the laughs.”

She shakes her head and stares at me. “You wouldn't dare...would you?”

“I believe in paying people right, Sugar.” I trail a finger from her chin to her cleavage. “Especially when they exceed my expectations. Josh said he was in IT, right? We could use him at Landmark.”

She grabs my hand and gives it a fierce squeeze. “Stop it. I’m being serious here.”

“So am I.”

Heaving out a sigh, she says, “Look, we can’t have people thinking we're engaged. Or about to be engaged. It'll be a huge letdown for my family when we –”

“I don’t give a shit what people think.” I kiss the tip of her nose. “Most people, I mean. Present company excluded.” I cup one of her tits, loving how it fills my palm. She’s too perfect in so many ways.

She catches herself giving in and then jerks up straight. “Will you stop already? What are we going to do about this?”

I’m getting hard again, that's what. It's almost unreal. Less than fifteen minutes ago, I was so spent I couldn’t move. “Think you already know what I’d like to do about this.”

“Yeah?”

I pin her nipple between two fingers again, amping up my tease. “I’d like to take you long and hard. We've got till morning. Better make the most of it.”

That might sound crude, but I know she likes it. The worry in her face eases and her eyes narrow. If I reach between her legs, I know she'll be soaked, aching to be filled all over again.

She trembles slightly. Anticipation flashes in her eyes.

“You feel me, Sugar? I said I'd like to suck on your tits again.” I twist, grabbing her waist with both hands, sliding her down so she’s lying flat on the bed and can't resist. “Said I'd like to eat your pussy, lash my tongue against your clit until you come so hard all those little worries banging around your head are yesterday's news. I want to fuck you so mean there's just Hunter and Wendy tonight. In this bed. On your mind. In your heart and soul. Everywhere that counts.”

She sucks her bottom lip hard, desperately trying to hide the smile curling the edges of her mouth upward.

I rub a hand across her stomach and lower my face within an inch of hers. “Choice is yours, Sugar. Do you want me to fuck you again like you've never imagined? Do you want to have the best night of your life? Or do you want me to be Dr. Phil and let all the mundane, frustrating shit out there in?”

She loops her arms around my neck and buries her lips in mine.

That's all the answer I need.

It takes a couple seconds for me to realize I'm not waking up alone in my bed. Then I grin.

My dick hasn’t had a workout like it had last night in years. The shower is running, and I see light under the bathroom door. I roll over, stretching, and then glance at the clock.

Five thirty? Fuck.

I roll out of bed and quietly open the bathroom door. This suite is nice, the bathroom good-sized with a separate shower in its own little alcove around a brick wall. Steam has the mirror fogged over and I use the toilet before stepping around the wall.

The glass door is steamed over, but I can make out her shape. Wendy's perfect, seductive silhouette as she stands below a steaming waterfall, head back, arms up, fingers tangled in her hair.

The sight of her instantly goes to my cock. It stands so straight, I could hang a hat on it.

I open the door, swallowing a growl.

She spins around instantly.

“You do know it’s only five thirty in the morning?” I step in and close the door. There’s more than enough room for two.

“Yep.” She continues rinsing the shampoo out of her hair, sneaking glances at my naked body. “I can’t sleep past five no matter what time I go to bed. Consider it a blessing and a curse.”

I smile at her.

She takes a bottle off a shelf in the corner. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

I don’t want to know what she thought about doing after her shower, if I was still sleeping, assuming it didn't involve her on my dick again.

“Bull. I’m glad I heard the shower running and caught you like this.” I take the bottle from her and pour a handful of conditioner into my palm. “Let's help clean you up.”

“Oh, I don’t need any help.” She takes the bottle shyly and sets it back on the shelf. “I’ve been showering by myself for years, you know.”

“Years?” I rub my hands together and then smooth them over her hair. “Then you’ve been doing it wrong for a long, long time, babe. Didn't anybody ever tell you it's twice as good with a man?”

I love this. When wet, her hair goes past her tits, and I make sure each strand gets slick with conditioner, letting the backs of my hands caress her nipples every chance I get. She arches into me and moans, still somehow fighting.

“There’s...oh! There's no right or wrong way to take a shower,” she tells me through a bright smile.

“That a fact?”

She shakes her head. “Ass, you know it is.”

“Nah, it'll take more than that. Here, let me show you how I do it, anyway.” I push her hair over her shoulders and bend down to suck on a nipple.

She arches into me. My nostrils flare as I catch her scent.

“God. What...what else do you do in a shower?” She tries to keep her voice calm and fails.

My dick jerks harder.

I slide my hand between her legs, find her clit, and push the pad of my thumb against it. “All sorts of fun things, woman. You really should try it, sometime.”

“Maybe if I have a good reason,” she whispers, her face scrunching in on itself as my thumb goes to work.

I love this little bud. It's like magic how hot and sexy she gets with just a few swipes, her soft, pink lips popping open, moaning pure sweetness.

But she's not completely gone yet.

My cock jolts as she wraps her hand around it. I latch on to her other tit then, sucking hard while thrusting my cock in her hand.

I'm fucking lightheaded. Like every ounce of blood shoots there because I grow half dizzy as she squeezes onto me, gliding her hand from the head of my dick down to my balls.

Her other hand lands on my chest, pushing me back toward the wall.

I assume it’s so she can step out of the spray of water coming out of the showerhead, but the next instant, I’m glad the wall is behind me.

She’s down on her knees. The moment her lips touch the tip of my dick, I can't feel my knees.

Fuck!

“Yeah, Sugar, yeah,” I growl, fisting her hair.

She draws me into her pert little mouth, swirling her hot, wet tongue. The sweet vibration of her moan locks the air in my lungs. I lean my head back and close my eyes, savoring the pure ecstasy she’s giving me.

If this is what a wake-up call with Sugar and Spice is like, then I want her in my bed forever.

I dig my hands into her hair, and this time, it’s her turn to be my lifeline. I’m holding on for dear life like some cornered beast as she sucks me, pushing her face halfway down my length, as deep as she can go.

It’s brutal, nearly torturous, the way I can’t move. Can’t breathe. Can't think.

Yet, I'm loving every fucking second of this, her blowing me to the moon.

Can't hold back either.

My hips start pumping, driving my dick into her mouth. She glances up at me, her eyes dancing, waiting.

Even with my dick in her mouth, I know she's smiling. Then she just closes her eyes and takes me home, to that place where I’m teetering on the edge of reality.

The pressure at the base of my spine goes nuclear. Sugar clamps down on me harder when I start to shake, my dick swelling, ready to give it up.

“Oh, shit. Oh, fuck, babe. Coming!”

I snarl those hoarse words between my teeth as pure napalm arcs up my balls.

Going, going, gone.

Then I'm lost in the heat of her sucking me dry.

Every time she swallows, my cock jerks again, giving more, helplessly chained to her mouth. The world's happiest prisoner.

She keeps at it until I’m beyond spent, shaking like a leaf, missing a piece of my soul down her throat.

She licks my tip clean before rising to her feet.

Shitfire, that woman has stamina like nothing else. I’m damn near ready to fall down on the tiled floor.

She kisses my chest when she's standing again. “You know, on second thought, I think I like showering with you. It's interesting.”

I can’t even speak.

Just grab her, slam her against the wall, and kiss the holy hell out of her.

It's a miracle we go back to sleep after fucking like we did.

Having her bent over, legs shaking, screaming into my palm haunts my dreams. So does the way I gave her every vicious inch, two more Os, before my balls pumped their last and we came together in a long, hard, truly insane release.

The next time I wake up, we're in bed together. She rolls over and smiles shyly, but then panic flashes across her face. She's looking past me at the clock.

“Crap!” Sugar throws back the covers and kicks at them to release her feet. “It’s ten thirty! We have to be checked out by eleven, and I have to be at the bakery before noon.”

I reach for her, but miss as she leaps off the bed. Rolling onto my back, I watch her scramble around the bed, searching for her clothes.

Considering we didn’t fall back to sleep until after seven, I’m not too worried about the time, or checking out. “Why do you have to be at the bakery before noon? It’s Sunday. Thought the place was closed for a few days after the wedding.”

“I wish! Nope, I have an appointment with a bride for another wedding cake.” She’s pulling clothes out of her bag, then hopping as she jerks on her socks. “I couldn’t do it yesterday because...” She shoots into the bathroom, yelling the last few words back. “You know! Everything.”

Everything. That just about says it.

I grin, remembering the shower earlier this morning, and then toss aside the covers. By the time she comes out of the bathroom, I’m dressed in jeans and a shirt. She’s dressed, too. Khakis and a neat shirt that says Smile! It's always a good Morning at Midnight.

That’s not hard, but it's got nothing to do with the bakery.

She makes me want to smile. She makes me want to kiss her, so I plant a quick one on her lips on my way to the bathroom.

She has her bag and mine packed up and on the bed when I come out. I drop my toothbrush into my larger duffel bag and zip it up. “Ready?”

“Yes, I’m sorry, I really gotta hurry.” She puts on her coat.

“It’s no problem.” I nod toward the clock. “We have plenty of time. It’s not even eleven yet.”

“I know, but the bride is supposed to be there at noon and I need to get everything set up.” She’s grabbing up her bags, one after the other.

I pick up my luggage and then take a couple from her, so she’s only holding her purse and the bag she’d brought from the bakery to finish the cake yesterday. “Let’s go.”

“We have to stop at the front desk and get your credit card,” she says, once we're in the elevator. “I need to know how much the fish cost, so I can comp you back.”

My hands are full, so I just lean over and kiss her. “Forget it, Sugar. You don’t need to know, and I'm not accepting a dime.”

She shakes her head, but history tells me, this won’t be the end of it.

I’m glad. I don’t want it to be the end of anything we’ve shared.

I check out, collect my card, and we head for the parking ramp. A dusting of snow must've fallen overnight. It’s still on some cars, but the sun has melted it off the Yukon's windshield.

“How long will your meeting take?” I ask, backing out of the parking space.

“A couple hours.”

“I’ll stay and help you get things set up.”

“Thanks, but I’ll do it faster myself.” She’s quiet for a moment, and then says, “I’ll call you after it ends. If...if that’s okay.”

“That'd be perfect.” I’m smiling but already dreading the hours between now and then.

I tell myself not to. Fuck, I need some time to get my head together, don't I?

Check on Ben and Sloan. Pull myself together.

Figure out exactly what happened last night.

Too bad I already know: the best sex of my life. That's what happened.

I wasn't kidding when I’d told her that. What I’m going to do about it is what I have to figure out.

I’ve stayed away from women for years for a reason, and that hasn’t changed. Even the perfect fuck can't magically solve all the reasons I tell myself this is off limits.

I go through a coffee shop drive-through, buying coffees for both of us, despite her objections, and then drive her to Midnight Morning. I help her haul everything inside.

Our parting kiss is quick.

I linger in the SUV after she disappears, staring at the back door of the bakery, taking slow pulls off my coffee, thinking. What the hell would Ben think about me dating his boss?

Hell, about me dating anyone?

He’s a teenager, yeah, and he shouldn’t have a say in what I do as a grown man, but he does.

Not so much a say as a reason, I suppose. He’s my first and foremost responsibility.

Physically, mentally, and emotionally, I have to give my son the world. Can I still do that if I start spending weekends fucking my brains out with Wendy? And then if said fucking leads to a lot more?

I sigh because I don't know the answer. I just drop the shifter into drive and head home.

Sloan meets me in the garage. “Hey, hey! There's our boy. How was the wedding?”

I open the back door and grab my bags. “A wedding. Long-winded, people getting weepy-eyed and up in arms over nothing. How was the game?”

“A hockey game, Bud. Typical. We lost our asses.”

I nod, smiling, even though I haven’t been following the team well enough to know if they're on a losing streak or not. “Where’s Ben?”

“Still sleeping.” Sloan laughs. “He’s a teenager. Where else would he be at noon on a Sunday?”

“Well, thanks again for staying with him. I appreciate it, Sloan. I owe you.”

“It's nothing, my man, never is.” He opens the door to the house. “By the way, did you get a chance to sign those checks yet? I poked around in your office a bit, but saw the envelopes were sealed, so I wasn't sure if you got to it with that bangin' blonde on your brain.”

Fuck. They're still in my desk. I’d forgotten all about them.

I’ve never done that before. Just had my mind on Wendy. We walk into the house. “No, I haven’t. I was...looking into something first.”

“Something, huh?”

He stares at me. I frown. I don't even remember because I'm too busy trying to un-fuck my head from the past twenty-four hours.

He grins. “Aw, don't stress. It's not like anybody's hair is on fire. You saw the latest from accounting. Landmark has plenty in the bank to pay the bills. Chasing after this stuff, that's what you have me for, Bud. To look into things so you can focus on raising Ben.”

He’s right about that. Now that the wedding is over...

“Sure. That reminds me, when's the company Christmas party this year?” I ask.

“A couple weeks out, probably. I'll have to check with HR to be sure. Why?”

“So I can put it on my calendar.” A repeat of last night, of this morning, starts playing out in my head.

I’ll ask Wendy to go to the party with me. I nod, telling Sloan, “I’ll get to those checks today. Don't worry.”

“Sounds good. I’m gonna bounce.” He pats his chest, flashing me a wicked grin. “Haven’t had a smoke in almost twenty-four hours. Can't believe how fucking quick everything changes. I remember when I used to spend every game working through half a pack. Uh, not that I would with the kiddo in the picture, even if I could.”

I nod, knowing he means it, as dumb as he can be sometimes. I made it clear I didn't want him smoking around Ben when he was little, so he didn’t. To my knowledge, he never has.

“Thanks again, Sloan. Don't bother making the trip back. I'll have the checks couriered over to the office tomorrow morning.”

“Nah, it's nothing, I’ll just stop by and get them.” He heads down the hallway to the back door. “Just call or send me a text.”

The alarm system beeps when he opens the door and then again when he closes it. It's nice to know everything is working like it should.

I peel off my coat, hang it on a hook in the mudroom, and leave my suit there to be sent out to the cleaners so it'll be ready for the Christmas party, and then carry my stuff upstairs.

After putting everything away, I head to Ben’s floor. I see Jingles sitting at the top of the stairs. He greets me with a friendly meow, licking himself, and I stop to stroke his head on the way up.

My knuckles tap at his bedroom door. I wait. When he doesn’t respond after twenty seconds, I open the door.

He’s sleeping like the dead, all right. Snoring so loud it's like a lumber mill.

I cross the room. It’s after noon, so I’ll see if he’s hungry.

I'm reaching for him, but my hand stalls before I touch his shoulder when I see it.

Something that shouldn't be there.

Pictures lying on the covers next to him. Several pics. Wedding pictures of Cory and Juno.

Fuck!

Trying not to panic, I tiptoe around the other side of his bed and start gathering them up, looking at each one a bit closer. Most are far off shots.

The close-ups are only of Juno. Luckily, none of them are of the three of them.

“Hey, Dad? When did you get home?”

I bite the inside of my lip for a second, wondering how to handle this.

Wondering how Wendy would suggest I handle this.

“Just a few minutes ago. Came to wake you up. You hungry yet?”

“Yeah, I guess.” He sits up, rubbing his eyes, then stares at the photos peeking out of my hands. “Why didn’t you show me those?”

I know he’s referring to the pictures. Rather than answer, I ask, “Where did you get them?”

“We found them. They were in a box in the garage.”

Shit. I could've sworn they were all in my office, behind lock and key, along with all the files I've kept related to the fire.

Am I losing it? Or is it just the past weekend leaving my mind rattled?

“Son...why were you digging around in the garage?”

“Uncle Sloan was looking for a sweatshirt to wear to the game. He thought we had a few packed away. Said it was from that time years ago, when we all went to a couple games, and then the stuff we'd bought got mixed into the cleaning the next week. Remember?”

“I don't,” I say coldly. I'm not pissed at him, but myself, because I should remember something. “I'm not sure about that, Ben. You have several shirts in your closet, too. Your sweatshirt might've fit him.”

“Oh, we tried. But they were all too small.”

I chew on that, knowing how big a guy Sloan is. Ben likes them overly large, though, and I swear what he has in the closet would even be big enough for me.

“He found the one he was looking for after we went digging,” Ben says.

“He did?” I blink. Fuck, why doesn't this make any sense? Where's my brain?

“Yeah. It was there just like he said, tucked away in a box of old stuff. Along with these pictures.”

For the life of me, I don’t recall a box of stuff out there. Not with hockey sweatshirts. Definitely not with these pictures in it.

But he's right about one thing: we had gotten all that stuff at a game years ago. And some of it had gotten packed away. I remember the spring cleaning, when the staff came through like a whirlwind, collecting old stuff for donation and filing away the toys he'd gotten too old for.

That had to be it. I can't believe anything else. Or that Sloan would lie to me.

He knows the dangers of Ben learning the truth better than anybody besides me. The damage it could do.

Hell, Sloan was the one who insisted Ben should never learn Cory is his real father. Not for many years, anyway.

I cringe when I think about him learning I'm one more uncle, in reality, even if we share the same blood.

Once, I'd argued the truth would do him good once he'd reached this age. Now, it’s gone on so long...fuck.

I can't have Ben finding out I’ve lied to him for twelve years. Even if I did it to protect him and our little family.

I don't want anyone knowing. No one except Sloan. Wendy would skin me alive if she found out.

It's not like I never second-guessed what I was doing. There were late nights over beers where I asked if I was doing the right thing, but Sloan always made me see reason.

He made me see how much it would hurt Ben, how little he'd trust me after, and for what? Just to learn both his biological parents are dead?

Just to find out I've never solved a fucking thing about their murder – I'm convinced it wasn't an accident, no matter what the reports say – and that I never got over losing my brother?

“Dad?” Ben's voice sounds like it's coming from the end of a tunnel. Uneasy. Distant.

“Yeah? Yeah, what's up?”

“Why didn’t you want me to see those? Do you...do you think maybe I’m not old enough to see my mother? Can’t handle the fact that she's dead?”

My heart turns to stone. I pinch my eyes shut ferociously, a second longer than I really should, before I look at him and face the music.

“No, Ben. Of course not. I’ve always said you're welcome to remember her as you'd like at any time. Guess I just didn't think you'd want to until now, when you're growing up.”

“Yeah, maybe. I mean, you always said she died in a fire, but what about us? How’d we survive? You never said much about how you dealt with it? Not to bring back bad memories or whatever.”

He's tiptoeing around the obvious. Just a good, kind, curious young man who wants to know who he is, and where he came from.

And I'm the asshole holding out.

Christ. I don’t want to deal with this right now. I so don't want to.

Thanks, Sloan. Thanks a lot, I think to myself, gritting my teeth.

Guilt strikes a second later, though. It’s not Sloan’s fault.

If it wasn’t for him, Ben wouldn’t be here. I wouldn't be here to take care of him, either.

He was the one who saved me when I had a hole in my leg, minutes from being put out of my misery by those leering, pissed off insurgents who'd kill me in a heartbeat. He saved my life.

He was the man who’d pulled Ben out of the burning house, too. He just hadn’t been able to get to Cory or Juno. The flames spread too fast. By the time the fire department showed up, there was nothing left.

What happened in Afghanistan was almost a miracle, if I'm being honest. And what happened here in Saint Paul all those years ago was one more, when he'd stopped by their place to drop off a letter, he'd said. A handwritten apology to Cory for all the tension at Landmark. A promise he'd get his act together, after I'd been good enough to bring him into the company fold.

And he sure as hell did get it together that night. He saved my son's life. He salvaged Ben from what would've been an even bigger, soul-killing tragedy.

“What really happened that night, Dad?” Ben asks, sitting up, swinging his legs over to the floor. Those big blue eyes of his are so much like mine in the mirror when I'm deep in thought. Or demanding answers.

I almost choke. Somehow, I find my thoughts and answer him.

“We saved you in the nick of time,” I say, not quite lying. “Sloan was there, remember? He did his best, he woke me up, and...and I was there right away. But the flames were too strong for me to go back in for her. I couldn't save Juno.”

When I force myself to look at him again, I see another familiar look: fear.

Maybe it's because I realize he sees me with my jaw pinched so tight my teeth are about to break. It's hell for a boy to see his father like that, so I force myself to relax and plop down on the bed next to him.

“I'm sorry if I haven't been as forthcoming as I should, son. It's a bad place. One I don't like to go back to.” I'm brutally honest about that, even if it's not for the reasons he thinks.

“You really loved her, didn’t you, Dad?” His hand hits my shoulder and his skinny fingers dig in. It's almost a man's grip, him getting stronger and older all the time. “Jeez. I’m sorry, Dad. I didn’t mean to upset you. I didn't –”

I feel like the biggest fucking lowlife on Earth when I whirl around and see the tears in his eyes. So I shut my yap and throw my arms around him, squeezing him so tight we both hurt.

“Forget it, buddy. I love you,” I say, giving him a hug. “Whatever else happened before, Papa's here. And he loves you more than anything.”