The house wasn’t quite like Chad remembered. Skip drove around a winding driveway; the landscaping that had once been well-maintained seemed neglected. The house was a faded, pink-stucco Spanish monstrosity that looked abandoned.

Skip parked in front of the courtyard leading to the front door. And was at the front door before Chad made it to the edge of the porch. The door opened, and Chad had to stop or fall over his own feet. The man standing in the doorway wasn’t exactly a dead-ringer for Skip, but there was a serious resemblance. Resemblance or not, the younger version of Skip was drop-dead gorgeous.

“What the hell, Skip? You’re supposed to be off communing in the woods somewhere. At least call before you come rushing in like the feds are after you.” The younger version of Skip leaned against the door, grinning at his father. He was only wearing a towel and that shit-eating grin. Chad wondered if that was a family trait? Then then beauty in the doorway turned sultry green eyes on Chad and winked. “Hello, gorgeous! Skip, did you kidnap a Marine?”

Chad didn’t feel a damned thing.

Skip pushed the door wide open, and grabbed the younger man, pulling him into a hug. Brian flailed from loss of balance, and maybe from the fact that Skip wasn’t letting him go. When Skip finally released his son, he stepped back and wiped at the corner of an eye. He crossed his arms over his chest, much the same way his son did, and glared at him. “Turn your damned phone on, and I won’t have to come charging to the rescue.”

Brian looked like he was about to say something smart, but changed his mind. “Oh. My phone is at the bottom of the Pacific somewhere. We went out on the boat last night and it fell in. You know, you could have called the house phone. Or the office.”

“The house phone doesn’t work, and the office said you took the day off.” Skip wasn’t moving into the house, and he seemed to have forgotten Chad even existed.

“Yeah, today was supposed to be Zack’s first day off since he started at the hospital. We were going to spend it…” he tossed a wicked glance in Chad’s direction. “Doing what you’ve obviously been doing. I swear, Skip, I did not know you went for the young dudes. I’m not sure I knew you went for dudes at all. So… are you just going to leave him standing out there looking mortified, or are you going to come inside and tell me what the fuck has you looking like you're being chased by one of those serial killers that you write about.”

Skip went a weird shade of pink. His slightly orange-tinted freckles were even more orange. “This is Chad.” Skip glanced at Chad, a look of panic on his face. “I’m…” Chad thought he’d say something like sleeping with him, or just visiting him… but the pause was too long. “Thinking about asking him to marry me.”

Swirling, violent, fluttering, torrents of oh my god washed through Chad’s entire body. “Then ask. I’ll say yes.”

“Oh… wow. Okay. I’m getting a stepfather. So, that’s… not strange at all. And why are the police coming up our drive?” Brian’s mocking grin disappeared. Chad turned to see several police cars with lights flashing pulling in behind and in front of the Jeep. Chad’s blood ran ice cold.

“She wouldn’t go that far?” Chad had no idea who he was speaking to… himself or Skip.

“You didn’t bring home any of the good stuff did you, Skip?” Brian’s words were meant to tease, his tone, though, was anything but teasing.

“I have no idea why you think I have a pot farm?” Skip wasn’t teasing either. They all stood very still and waited for the police to step out. They did. Guns drawn.

“Which one of you is Skipper Simpson?” The officer-in-charge emerged from the lead car. His gun was not drawn. The look on his face was not welcoming.

“There’s no one here by that name,” Brian said, and Chad wondered if he’d lost his goddamned mind. “Legally, anyway.”

The lead cop’s gun came out and he aimed it toward Brian. “Get on your knees, all of you. Hands behind your heads. We’re looking for a man named Skipper Simpson; the man in the towel fits the description.”

“He’s not Skip Simpson. I am. Skip is a nickname.” Skip kept his gaze on the cop closest to him. “This is my son, Brian O’Daly.”

“Sorensen.” Brian added as he kept his eyes on the cop closest to them as well. “I… uh. I took Zack’s name. Hope you don’t mind.”

“Why would I mind? I didn’t like O’Daly on you anyway,” Skip said to his son without taking his gaze off the cop, as if they were having a private conversation, and there weren’t eight cops pointing eight guns at them. Chad wasn’t exactly handling having weapons in his face well. “I should like to interject into this discussion that the Marine to my far left has just returned from a tour in Afghanistan. He has PTSD and I can feel his unease from here. We’re unarmed and not going anywhere, if it would be alright, I’d like to ask if the guns can be put away.”

With the weapon pointed at him, Chad had to focus hard on the tile under his knees to keep the wave of panic from taking over.

“Why are you looking for me?” Skip drew the man’s attention back. “You should have stated that long before now.”

“You’re wanted for questioning in the disappearance of ten-year-old Chad Mayes. Last seen in your care. His mother says you took him without her consent. She’s filed charges.”

Chad laughed. Oh god. The weapon wavered in and out of focus. Chad breathed hard, his nostrils flaring as he sucked in air. He wasn’t going to lose control. Not right now. It was a damned miracle they weren’t lying face down on the ground. Freaking the hell out wouldn’t accomplish a damned thing. He tried not to laugh again. He could sense that it was pissing the cop off. It had pissed him off when combatants had laughed at him when the roles had been reversed. “I’m Sergeant Chad Mayes, USMC. I’m not ten. I’m twenty-three. I haven’t been kidnapped. Skip is not a child molester. And my mother is off her meds. She’s bi-polar with a side-helping of paranoia delusion. My father passed away a few weeks ago, and I believe it triggered a mental break.”

The cop lowered his gun; at least it was out of Chad’s line of vision, if not completely holstered. “Identification. Now.”

“Back pocket. I have a knife in my front pocket and my phone.” Chad didn’t put his hands down. They could pat him down. He wasn’t giving them a reason to shoot him now that he was getting married.

The cop nodded to another cop who holstered his weapon, and stepped up to Chad. “On your feet. Keep your hands behind your head.”

Chad rose to his feet in one fluid movement, fingers locked behind his head, feet apart, and submitted to the pat down. The cop took his knife and his wallet. He flipped it open, and handed it to the lead cop. Lead cop gave him the eye over his military ID and driver’s license. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-three. I served four years. Two tours. My mother’s name is Jillian Calhoun. She changed back to her maiden name after my parents divorced when I was eleven. I was born in Van Nuys, California. My mother currently lives there. I have no current address. I moved into my father’s house in Virginia until he passed. I’m in California to lay him to rest. Skip helped me scatter his ashes upstate.”

The lead cop closed his wallet, and nodded toward Skip and Brian. “Identification.”

“Do I look like I have ID? Where would I put it? Tucked under my nutsack?” Brian sneered at the cop who walked toward him. “It’s inside. You’ll have to take my word. Not Skipper Simpson. Not Chad Mayes. Brian Sorensen. I really love saying that. Has a nice ring to it.”

“Kid… anyone ever tell you that you’re a smart ass?” Skip rolled his eyes.

“There’s a marked family resemblance,” Chad replied. “Like father, like son.” He felt the laugh bubble up and tried to stop it. He closed his mouth, but it came out his nose in a snort.

“This isn’t funny.” Skip scolded him. He was on his feet being patted down. “I do not keep my wallet there either.” He winced as the cop patted him too hard between his legs. “The left cargo pocket. I swear, I’m seeing someone. Seriously.”

The wallet came out; Skip had left everything else in the borrowed Jeep. The lead cop took the wallet and perused it for a long time. “S. Wallace Simpson. What does the S stand for?”

“Nothing now. I legally had it changed to just S. but it never stood for Skip. Chad’s father was my best friend; he called me Skipper. We were upstate with friends to scatter Colt’s ashes. We were caught in the blizzard. Chad’s car was totaled when a tree fell on it during the storm. He accompanied me to my cabin while he decided what to do next. We flew down this morning. We literally were just walking in the door. I don’t have any kids here. My son is an adult. My friend’s son is an adult. No, you can’t search my property without a warrant. If we go any further, I need to call my lawyer.”

“Is there anyone else in the house?” Lead cop asked, looking past Brian who was still on his knees with his hands behind his head.

“My husband is at work. There’s no one else inside. We don’t have any kids running around either. We were just married three weeks ago. Can I please stand up? There are only two occasions when I like to be on my knees, and this is definitely not one of them.”

Lead cop holstered his weapon, and nodded to the uniform behind him. One of them started talking into the radio attached to his shoulder. The rest of the police holstered their weapons and Chad felt as if the world wasn’t about to spin out of control. “You can put your hands down. We’re going to talk now. And yes, I do have a warrant. I’m not going to enact it, at this moment. But I’m very much confused as to what’s going on here?”

“You’re confused?” Brian stood with his hand grasping the ends of his towel that were beginning to slip. “You were in ‘shoot first, ask questions later,’ mode. And seriously, what if my dad hadn’t been here? He’s not supposed to be here. Were you just going to come in and shoot me for looking like a description? That’s ginger profiling. I should sue.”

“Brian…” Skip rolled his eyes and sighed. “Shut up, son.”

“Yes, Daddy,” Brian said, looking contrite for about a second. “Oh, hey, he doesn’t call you ‘daddy’ does he, when y’all… Oh my god. He’s younger than me, Skip. You dirty old man. Good for you. Wait. He’s going to be my stepfather and he’s younger than me… that is… messed up.”

“Brian… shut the fuck up,” Skip whispered loudly.

“Yes, Sir,” Brian grumbled, and Chad dropped his gaze to the Spanish-tiled floor to hide the flush he felt flaming his face.

“Oh, god. He calls you, ‘Sir?’ I cannot unknow that now. I just… somethings should be… I’m shutting up. I’d seriously like to put some pants on without getting shot.”

“Go ahead,” the lead cop said, nodding toward the door. “Let’s go inside.”

“If we could stay out here for now, that would be helpful,” Chad requested before he realized what he was saying. “I’m not good in enclosed unfamiliar places when I’m… fighting off a flashback.”

“Understood,” the officer said, moving up on the porch to stand in the shade with them. “We’ll talk here. Tell me about your mother?”

Chad had no idea what to tell him that he hadn’t already said. “Where is she? Is she with the police? Or did she call in a tip about an abducted kid? How did this even happen? Don’t you people do due diligence on stuff like this?”

The cop rubbed a hand over his face. “Usually, yes. Everything she said seemed so… real. The photos looked recent. She said she took you to the park and bumped into an old friend. She went to the restroom, and when she came back, the friend was gone, and so was her son. She freaked out screaming at the park, trying to find her son. No one saw anything. But they were all searching. She said Mister Simpson had been a family friend, but had made some comments that she considered inappropriate, and she’d asked her husband not to allow him to visit anymore.” He listened to the chatter in his own radio but didn’t respond. “She told us your address and that you were secluded up here. We are required to act when a kid is reported missing. Every second counts.”

The chatter started again. This time there seemed to be some urgency to the chatter. The sounds of so many little radios chattering away wasn’t helping Chad shake the panic attack.

“And how many times have you chased wild geese like this? What if some kid is really missing right now and half of your precinct is in my driveway?” Skip leaned against the wall next to the door with his arms crossed over his chest. “Jillian was batshit crazy when we were young. I hate to consider what she told you about me. I’m still wondering if I need a lawyer. And Chad, I know you’re a highly capable individual, but you should probably stay away from her until she gets back on the meds.”

“I don’t need anyone telling me my mother is nuts, all right.” Chad hadn’t realized he shouted until the chirruping of all the radios went silent, and his voice echoed off the stucco back to him. “I love you, but… please… just don’t, okay. I’m sorry she did this. It’s not the first time. She did it when I was in high school. We had an overnight game, and I came home to find the cops in the house because she woke up and I was gone. She thought I was five. She thought my dad had come and taken me. I was sixteen. It’s… where is she? I need to make sure she… I don’t know. She needs help. I don’t know how to help her.”

“She’s at the station. If it’s okay with you, we’re going to take her in for a seventy-two-hour psych evaluation. Get her some help.”

A radio chirruped again, and the cop who’d done the pat-downs came up and whispered in lead cop’s ear. Chad knew from experience that wasn’t a good sign.

“She isn’t at the station, is she?” He heard a whistling in his ears, like artillery fire in the distance.

“No, she walked out. No one noticed.” Lead cop spoke softly now. Something in Chad’s voice must have alerted him to the sounds off in the distance.  He could hear the rumble of thunder, the sound so much like heavy artillery fire. His vision blurred, the voices around him could have been a million miles away for all he knew.

The wavering heat of the desert threatened to drag him back there… dissolving into cold… and rain… and….

Waves crashed off in the distance as the storm approached. He was soaked to the skin, crying. “I won’t do it again, Mommy. I promise. I won’t touch it again.” Thunder rolled over the ocean; the night so dark he couldn’t see an inch in front of his face. He screamed over the storm. He screamed until his throat closed. He curled into a ball on the grass as rain pelted his naked body. The crashing of waves and thunder the only sounds he could hear as he tried to scream.

“Chad?” His daddy came for him; his voice filled with fear. He shouldn’t be afraid. Daddies weren’t afraid of anything. He should be strong and… “Chad?”

Wasn’t his father’s voice. It was too deep. He could hear waves, but not crashing waves, gently rolling waves. The sun was bright in the sky. It wasn’t cold. He was dry, and on his knees with big hands wrapped around his wrists. He held Chad’s wrists pressed tight against his own chest. “It’s okay. It’s okay. Blink if you hear me.” Chad blinked. Green eyes came into focus.

“Your eyelashes are dark red, and really long.” Chad had no idea why he said that. “I love your eyes. Have I told you that?”

“No. You haven’t. I love your eyes too. Yeah, there you are. You okay in there?” He could see Skip’s face now, and the fear in his eyes. He could hear the cops moving around. There was too much chatter and tension in the air for this to be just another panic attack. “Don’t look away. Not yet.”

“What did I do?” He couldn’t remember. He remembered talking about his mother; there were cops. “I did something, didn’t I?”

“Besides freaking a few cops out, you mean?”

“I don’t carry anymore,” he said, peripherally aware of the drawn guns pointing his way. “I’m not armed.”

“I know. They know. They’re going to put their weapons away now. Please, he’s not a threat. We have to get you into the VA and get you something to help with the flashbacks.”

“My mother is here,” he said, wondering if he was still in the past. “She’s come to get me again. Like she did when Dad took me away. She locked me out in the storm because… my mother is here.”

“She’s not here. I promise.” Skip’s lips were moving. Chad could see the younger version of Skip coming out of the house, pulling a t-shirt over his head; he shouted something that Chad couldn’t hear.

There was no sound anymore.

His mother was screaming his name and crying; she had a gun. The police weren’t even looking at her. Her mouth moved so slowly, opening and closing as she screamed his name. Her hand came up even more slowly. He saw the orange flash from the muzzle. Skip slammed hard into him, toppling him over as his body became heavy. Something hot and wet seeped through Chad’s blouse. Skip’s eyes were open. He smiled. It was a beautiful smile. The green in his eyes went dark as his smile faded and shock set in. Chad wrapped his arms around Skip, and rolled him over to cover him.

Time went wonky. Sound and vision sped up like he’d hit fast-forward too many times. People were screaming. He heard more gunfire. Skip stared up at him. He blinked. “What happened?” he whispered, his voice cracking. He swallowed hard and tried again. “What…”

“I think she shot you.” Chad felt his pain, like hot fire just above his hip. “I think she shot us both.”

Skip swallowed hard, and reached trembling fingers up to stroke Chad’s face. “I love you. Okay. I love you. Tell Brian… I’m sorry I wasn’t there for him when he was a kid. I… Fuck, it hurts.”

“Yeah. I got a scar just like it. Hurts like a bitch.”

“Dad. Skip. Dad, can you hear me?” Chad felt Brian’s cold fingers on his arm, clawing at him, trying to pull him off the man he loved. “Is he okay? Tell me she missed him? Come on, stepdude. Get off him. You can do that later.”

More hands were on him, pulling him up. “He’s shot. It went through.”

“How do you know?”

“Because it went through me too.” He tried to stand up, but his knees didn’t want to hold him. He grabbed Brian’s arm and went back down. Blood soaked his shirt. Too much blood. He didn’t know how much was his and how much was Skip’s.

There were sirens piercing the chaos that surrounded him. He looked for his mother. He could have sworn he saw her. The cops had an old woman on her knees with her arms behind her back. Her pale hair a ratted mess. She was too thin, her flesh nearly sallow. She looked familiar. His mother. But not his mother. She wasn’t screaming his name anymore; she was cussing him out, calling him by his father’s name. She cried, pleading with him to tell her what he’d done with her baby.

Chad stumbled to his feet and staggered off the porch to drop to his knees in front of his mother. “Mom? It’s me. It’s Chad. Don’t you recognize me?”

She swung her long hair over her shoulder, and glared at him, her face a mask of rage. “You took my baby away from me. You perverted him. Give me back my baby. Give me back my baby. I never loved you. Never. Where’s my boy, Colten? Where is he? You can’t keep him from me.”

His mother didn’t recognize him. Hell, Chad hardly recognized her. “It’s only been four years,” he said, knowing no one would understand. “What’s going to happen to her?” He glanced to the cop standing not far away, a statue amidst chaos.

“She’ll get help,” the cop answered as his mother was lifted off the ground, and carried to one of the ambulances that pulled into the clogged driveway. “Let’s get you looked at.”

Chad took his hand and climbed to his feet in time to see Skip being lifted onto a stretcher. He wasn’t conscious anymore. A paramedic rushed Chad into the ambulance with his lover. The last thing he saw was Brian sitting on the porch beside a pool of blood, looking like a little boy who’d lost his father.

Because Chad had brought crazy into his house.

“Lift your shirt. You’re bleeding…” he tuned the medic out, as the sight of the frightened little boy receded into the distance, only to be lost entirely as the ambulance rounded a curve.