The two men stood outside the car and stared at the houses. It was early evening and the sky had yet to fade to black, yet both porch lights glowed brightly…like beacons guiding them home.

Clint sighed and clasped Cochise’s shoulder. “Don’t shut them out. Just…live in the now. Despite what you think, you do deserve this.” Clint stepped away from the car. “Have a good night, brother.”

Cochise remained unmoving as he watched the cowboy walk across his lawn and onto his porch, then turned his focus to his own house. His home. Was it really? He approached the porch and climbed the steps, pausing outside the front door, and gripped the door knob. He looked at his hands—so recently smeared with the blood of the men he’d killed that day. How could he come home from all that and try to slip back into the role of a family man? It was like trying to wear a suit that fit too tight.

His heart—once a silent stone in his chest—contested his thoughts.

He was too tired to fight with it tonight and opened the door, entering the house. The door was hardly closed behind him before his nostrils filled with the tantalizing aroma of Beef Wellington and a blend of slightly lesser yet tempting appealing smells drifting out from the kitchen. The Egyptian’s mind jumped back to his first date with Kane, and the dinner Kane had cooked for him; the same aromas had met him that night as well when he’d entered the man’s apartment. He’d never felt more at home than he had that night, sitting across the table from Kane, aching for the man in ways that startled and frightened him.

Cochise came out of his thoughts when Stella wrapped herself around his ankle, rubbing avidly against the cuffs of his pantlegs. He shed his jacket then reached down and picked up the kitten. It had grown some since Cochise first brought her to Kane the night he’d rescued her from the dangerous life as a bait animal, but her growth was slow and she remained quite small. She quickly crawled up against his neck, cuddling in; it was her favorite place to sleep.

Stroking the kitten’s fur, Cochise walked across the living room and approached the kitchen doorway, his footsteps quiet. In the adjoining dining room, the table was set and dinner was ready—yet no one was eating, the food dishes covered to keep everything warm. Kane and the three kids were in the kitchen cleaning up, stacking the used cooking pans and utensils in the sink to be washed.

John spotted him first and smiled. “You’re home.”

The others looked around and Zoe walked over, slipping her arm through his. “I see Stella got to you first.”

“Dinner’s ready,” Kane said, his gaze resting deeply on Cochise’s face.

Cochise handed the kitten to Zoe. “You didn’t have to wait,” he mumbled.

“Yes, we did,” Donald insisted. “Families eat together.”

Cochise remained caught in Kane’s stare.

“We’ll go…wash up,” Zoe said and ushered the two boys out of the kitchen with her.

Coming closer, Kane flattened his hands on Cochise’s chest. “Are you okay?” he asked quietly.

Don’t shut them out.

Shaking his head slowly, Cochise admitted, “I don’t know.”

Kane wrapped his arms around him and kissed him softly. “That’s okay,” he whispered against his lips. “You don’t have to be okay right this second. But you’ll get there. We’ll get there together.”

Unbidden wetness glazed Cochise’s eyes. “I wish…”

When his words faltered, Kane asked quietly, “You wish what?”

I wish I was the man you think I am.

“Nothing.” Cochise pulled him into his arms and kissed him deeply, and held onto him until the kids returned.

“Come on, pops,” Donald smiled and led Cochise to the table.

“Pops?” Cochise muttered.

Donald chuckled and nodded, directing him to sit at the end of the table. Kane took a seat at the opposite end.

“I kind of like pops,” John laughed lightly, sitting to Cochise’s left. Typically, John was quiet and reserved, especially around Cochise, but tonight he seemed unusually outgoing. “It fits you.” He laughed again when Cochise scowled at him.

“That’s okay for you boys,” Zoe said and slipped her arms around Cochise’s neck from behind. “But being a girl, I prefer daddy.” He kissed his cheek and giggled like a school girl.

At the other end of the table, Kane shrugged and smiled as Donald and Zoe took their seats. “Shall we say grace?”

John slipped his hand into Cochise’s palm as the others joined hands as well. Cochise stared at John’s hand and lightly ran his thumb over the boy’s knuckles.

Being a father to John…that’s a step forward.

“Lord, bless this food,” Kane began, “and the hands that prepared it. Bless this family and draw us ever closer to one another and to you. Thank you, Lord, for watching over each of us this day and bringing Cochise safely home to his family. Amen.”

A soft murmur of amens went around the table.

Kane opened his eyes and smiled at Cochise, the power behind that smile, behind those eyes, gripping the Egyptian’s heart.

Don’t say you don’t deserve what’s waiting for you at home, my friend; you damn well deserve it all.

Maybe for tonight…he would let himself believe it.

 

♦

 

“Do you want me to move him to his own room?” The three men stood around their bed, watching Jules. He had crawled beneath the covers and fallen asleep with cowboy.

“No.” Angelo’s answer was quick and firm. “I don’t want him out of our sight tonight.”

It was merely the after-effects of nearly losing Jules that had them all needing to keep him close by this first night back.

When the three of them became a unit, Anthony had traded out his old full-sized bed for a king. Angelo laid down next to Jules and Anthony took his place behind him, wrapping his arms around the man. Adrian got comfortable on the opposite side of the child and softly kissed his head then stroked his fingers through his silky blond hair.

“I wouldn’t have survived losing him,” Adrian whispered. His gaze fell on Angelo’s face and knew the same was true for him; for them all.

“We didn’t lose him,” Anthony murmured and reached around Angelo to gently squeeze Jules’ small hand. “He’s home, safe and sound. No one is going to steal him away ever again.”

Angelo laid his head on Anthony’s arm and stared at Jules, his fingertips caressing the child’s soft cheek. “I don’t ever want him to be an active part of this world,” he said quietly yet with a stern tone, leaving no room for argument. “We lost Shay, and almost lost Cory on too many occasions. I’m not taking that chance with Jules.”

“I agree,” Adrian nodded. The look on Clint and Cory’s faces when they’d told them about Diego…that was a look Adrian never wanted to see in the mirror. The devastation of these men in losing Shay would be his own personal hell if he ever lost Jules. A hell Anthony and Angelo…and so many others…would experience all again as well.

“We’ll teach him how to survive, how to fight,” Anthony murmured. “But only as skills to protect his own once he’s grown and out in the world. This world isn’t the only dangerous world.”

“He’s already showing strength and protecting his own.” Adrian gazed at the two men and was sure they knew just what he was talking about as his mind went back to the wedding reception…and Jules fierce defense of Reuben.

Angelo kissed the boy’s head, his lips lingering. “He is his father’s son.”

 

♦

 

As soon as the front door opened, Jonah raced from the kitchen to the living room to greet the cowboy. Axel followed and lingered in the living room doorway as Clint sank to his heels and ran his fingers through the pups thick, soft fur. A faint smile touched his lips when Jonah tried to climb his chest and lick his face.

“Kisses are my department, Jonah,” Axel murmured, drawing Clint’s stare.

The cowboy rose up slowly and peeled off his jacket, leaving it on the coat hook by the door as he walked across the carpet. Once he was close enough to touch, Axel slipped two fingers between Clint’s shirt buttons, grazing his warm skin beneath. “I don’t like it when you’re gone all day.” He pressed a soft kiss to Clint’s throat. “I miss you too much.”

Clint rested his hands on Axel’s waist and dipped his head for a mouth to mouth kiss, then wrapped Axel in his arms and held him in a crushing embrace.

“Are you okay, baby?” Axel whispered and touched his face. The cowboy’s eyes were troubled as he gazed back at him silently. “Did something happen?”

Clint released him without answering and walked into the kitchen. He stopped abruptly when he saw the table set for a candlelight dinner, a bottle of wine chilling in an ice bucket.

“I thought you might be hungry.” Axel pressed against his back and kissed the nape of his neck as he rubbed his hands around to caress Clint’s chest.

Covering Axel’s hands, Clint drew them to his lips. “Would you be mad if I asked if we could save dinner for later?”

“No,” Axel smiled. “I wouldn’t be mad.”

Clint turned around. “Can we go to the bedroom?”

Axel nodded. “Bring the wine?”

“Yeah,” Clint murmured. “We’re going to need the whole bottle.”

Scooping up the wine, Axel followed Clint into the bedroom and set the bottle on the nightstand. Clint sank onto the edge of the bed and slipped off his boots, his eyes distant as he stared at the floor. Axel peeled off his hat and slowly ran his fingers through Clint’s hair then tilted his face up and kissed him deeply. “Tell me what happened,” he whispered.

Clint grasped his hands and scooted onto the bed, drawing Axel with him. He propped pillows behind his back and pulled Axel into his arms, getting lost in another kiss as Axel unfastened Clint’s shirt and let it fall open so he could gently caress his warm muscles.

“Open the wine,” Clint said quietly through their kiss. “Then we’ll talk.”

Axel grabbed the bottle. “I forgot the glasses.”

“It’s okay,” Clint said. “We’ll just share the bottle.”

Axel opened the wine, took a drink, then laid against Clint and gently tipped the bottle to his mouth as he swallowed a small amount. Axel kissed him and sucked the wine from his lips, then kissed his neck. “Talk to me, baby.”

Drawing his arm more tightly around Axel’s shoulder, Clint took the wine bottle and downed another drink, swallowing audibly. He cleared his throat and spoke low, strained. “One of Cruz’s boys was shot and killed today.”

“What…?” Axel stared at him, startled. “Who?”

“Diego.” Clint drank more wine, his brow cinched and eyes distant. “A young man just a year or two younger than you.” He laid his head back and stared blankly at the ceiling. “He had a wife,” he whispered. “He was going to be a father any day now.”

Axel trembled, his stomach knotting. “Fuck.”

“Now…” Clint murmured. “Now the child will never get to meet his…or her…father. He’s just…gone. In the second it took to pull a trigger. Just fucking gone.”

Axel pressed his lips to Clint’s chest and closed his eyes, his heart aching.

“He was standing right next to Cory.” Clint’s voice wavered and tightened. “So close that his blood splattered on Cory…like the night Shay died.” He swallowed as his fingers gripped Axel’s shoulder. “It was like it was happening all over again for Cory.”

Tears filled Axel’s eyes; he’d been with Cory shortly after Shay’s death, saw the devastation with his own eyes. Some shit went down today that kind of tore open some old wounds.

“If Cory had been standing in front…he would be dead now.” A tremor rippled through Clint and Axel wrapped his arm around his body. Clint started to speak, then tipped the bottle to his lips, taking slow swallows. When he lowered the bottle, Axel gripped the neck without removing it from Clint’s hand and took a big drink. Clint cleared his throat again and squeezed Axel against him. “When Diego was shot…I lost it,” he rasped. “I started taking out Tazz’s gang members, without thinking, without…feeling.” His throat worked a couple times and shadows darkened his eyes as he whispered dully, “I felt so far away from here…from us. Like I was…slipping.” His chest heaved and face pinched. “And it scared me, Axel. It scared the fuck out of me.”

“Hey,” Axel murmured and scooted up, touching his face. “It’s okay. Everything’s okay now.”

Clint stared blankly, a faint gloss in his eyes. “What if I slip so far one day that I can’t find my way back?”

“No.” Axel shook his head, his throat constricting. “That’s not going to happen, because I will never let you go.” He combed his fingers through Clint’s hair and turned his face, forcing the cowboy to look at him. “If you start to slip, baby…I’ll pull you back…I’ll hold on so fucking tight and never let you fall away from me—not ever.”

Clint set the bottle on the nightstand and pulled Axel into his arms, kissing him long and deep.

“I promise,” Axel trembled thickly. “I will never let you slip away.”

For a long moment, Clint gazed at him, his fingers sliding up into his hair to stroke through his lengthening curls. “Your hair’s growing out,” he whispered with a light shake in his voice.

“Should I cut it again?” Axel asked quietly as he gently intertwined his fingers in the chain of the starburst necklace hanging from Clint’s neck.

“No.” Clint kissed him softly and the gloss in his eyes thickened. “I like your curls long. Reminds me of when we first met.” His head sank against Axel’s shoulder. “You were so scared of me. I wish I could go back and do it all differently…so you weren’t afraid.”

Axel hugged his head and kissed his hair. “I don’t,” he choked on a rush of emotion. “I wouldn’t change it, not at all. I don’t remember the fear when I think about it now. I just remember how caring you were with me when you could have hurt me if you’d wanted to.” He lifted Clint’s face and brushed a warm kiss on the cowboy’s lips. “You were perfect then.” He kissed him again, more deeply. “And even more perfect now. I love us; who we are together and how we got here.” He slid lower on the bed and drew Clint over on top of him. “You gave me hope for a better life than I’d ever known, ever thought possible. You still do.” He rubbed his hands up Clint’s back beneath his shirt. “And who doesn’t need a little hope in their lives?”