Ben’s heart nearly broke at the softly spoken question from his three-year-old niece, Zoe. Her little hands were clenched together in her lap as they sat in the little church to say their good-byes to her mother, his sister, Stacy.

Placing his hand over her two little ones, he gave them a gentle squeeze. “Yes, honey, she is.” Tears burned his eyes as they threatened to fall once more.

Since he’d gotten that call from the sheriff’s department in Killeen, Texas telling him his sister had been in an accident, it seemed all Benji had done was cry. A harsh look from his mother from across the room was enough to remind him not to break down in public. It unnerved him that she could still have that effect on him after everything she’d put him through.

“Uncle Benji, can I visit her?” Zoe asked as she looked up at him with those big blue eyes.

A snort of derision from Anya, his fourteen-year-old niece and Zoe’s half-sister was his only warning she was about to attack. “Only if you want to die, idiot.” How his sweet niece had turned into a snarky brat still stunned Ben.

He remembered the day Stacy had brought her home from the hospital. Anya had been so tiny, he’d been afraid he’d hurt her if he held her too tight. But that feeling when Stacy had put Zoe in his arms for the first time was so overwhelmingly sweet, Ben had lost his heart to her in that moment.

He sighed. Trying to soften Anya’s harsh words he told Zoe, “I’m sorry honey but Heaven isn’t a place you can just visit. But one day you’ll get to see her.”

Tears spilled over her lashes to tumble down her little cheeks. “But I miss her.” Her voice was so soft this time, Benji had to strain to hear her.

Wrapping his arm around her, he pulled her to his side. Kissing the top of his head he murmured, “Me too, munchkin.”

“Oh puh-lease,” Anya said as she dramatically rolled her eyes. “The only time you’ve even seen Mom was when we came to visit you, Uncle Benji.”

Ben hated that she was right. But Texas wasn’t known for being very accepting of gays, which he was. He was an out, proud, rainbow flag waving, gay man. He wasn’t what some would call flamboyant, but he didn’t hide who he was either.

For his own safety, not to mention his sister’s family, he’d always felt it best to stay within the confines of San Francisco, California. Ever since his homophobic parents had kicked him out of the house when he’d come out, Benji had a need to be around those who were like him and accepted him for who he was.

Sighing he struggled with what to say to his grieving niece who’d decided to take it out on him. “I’m going to overlook that because of the circumstances but it’s the last time,” he warned Anya.

She just flipped him off by pretending to scratch her head. It was a struggle to stop from laughing at her antics. He didn’t want to encourage her, but she reminded him so much of Stacy.

His sister had always stood up for what she believed in, never worrying about what others thought of her. Benji wished he had half of the courage she’d had. Even at the age of fifteen, when she’d found out she was pregnant, and their parents had threatened to kick her out, she adamantly refused to have an abortion or give up the baby.

She’d just shrugged at their words and told them she had no problem raising the baby without them. Of course, she was also too smart for them. Just as they had threatened her with throwing her out of the house, she threatened to tell everyone at their church her parents had abandoned her and the baby in their hour of need. But that was Stacy, strong, fearless, and the bravest person he’d ever known.

Unlike him, who’d been terrified when his parents had kicked him out of the house when he’d come out. At first, he’d stayed with a friend, so he could finish school. When his parents found out, they outed him to the entire community. Winfield, Kansas was too small for the gossip mills not to spread that bit of news.

Soon he was being beaten up, humiliated at every opportunity and eventually forced out of town. With no money, no car, no food and only a backpack with a few changes of clothes to his name he’d started hitchhiking. In hindsight he understood just how lucky he’d been that he hadn’t been raped or killed out on the road.

“Are you going to live with us, Uncle Benji?” Zoe asked with tear-filled eyes.

For a three-year-old she sure knew how to ask the tough questions. When he’d left home, he found his way to Castro Street in San Francisco. He’d arrived, cold, hungry and scared. Thankfully he’d met a nice couple, Terry and Philip, who had taken him in. They helped him to finish high school, found him a decent paying job and encouraged him to go to college.

Having found a place that accepted him, Ben had sworn to never move. Now, here he was in a fairly small military town in the heart of Texas. His brother-in-law, Jon, had asked Benji to take care of the girls until he could get home from Afghanistan after they’d found out Stacy had died. As much as he didn’t want to have to live where he wasn’t accepted, there was no way he could refuse the request.

“For now sweetheart,” he told Zoe.

As a graphic designer, he mostly worked from home anyway, so where he lived didn’t really matter. But that didn’t mean he wanted to move to Killeen permanently. Based on the some of the phone calls and video chats the girls had with their father the last couple of days, Benji got the feeling Jon expected him to move there for good.

“Don’t do us any favors,” Anya mumbled.

At a loss on how to deal with the constant hateful words that seemed to spew from Anya’s mouth, Ben debated on what to say to her. She was entering those awkward teenage years, where she felt no one understood her, especially someone as old as Ben.

He used to laugh when Stacy called him ranting and raving about how Anya was going to drive her insane with her moodiness.

He wasn’t laughing now.

Having arrived in Killeen five days ago, he’d immediately picked the girls up from a neighbor’s house. Since then Anya had tested his patience at every opportunity. He couldn’t blame the girl. She had just lost her mother and her father was halfway around the world fighting in a war.

The rug had been ripped out from under her. He just hoped he was able to remember that when his hand itched to slap that smart mouth. Not that he’d ever hit Anya but, damn, he could dream.

Looking up, he had to hold back a groan as he saw his mother striding his way. Steeling himself for whatever argument she looked intent on having with him, Ben whispered to Anya, “Take your sister to the bathroom before the service starts, please.”

Not having seen her grandmother, Anya opened her mouth to argue but his mother beat her to it. “Don’t you think the girls should have been dressed in black since this is a funeral for their own mother?” Her snide tone said it all. She didn’t like him and she resented that Jon asked him and not her to take care of the kids.

Zoe’s eyes got real big as she stared in terror at her grandmother. Anya, who didn’t like her grandmother said, “Come on Zoe, let’s go to the bathroom.” She practically dragged her little sister out of the room leaving Jon to deal with the woman who had a way of making everyone around her cringe in fear.