The family brunch was a tradition, an obligation. It was a great time and it was a huge hassle. Jamie never knew which it would be. Sometimes, it was both.

He’d enjoyed them once, but as he’d gotten older, he’d gone along with them rather than looked forward to them. It was hard to enjoy a family brunch that was at least as much board meeting as it was family gathering.

Things had gotten better, to some extent, ever since Marissa’s birth if only because the addition of an adorable baby made everything better for everyone. Jamie still had mixed feelings about the mandatory fun ever since Ryan’s return from prison.

If Ryan had mixed feelings, he wasn’t showing it today. He sat on the couch with one arm wrapped around Anthony, one arm holding little Marissa in place. She was doing just fine so far as holding her head up but when it came to such feats as staying upright on her own, she had a ways to go. Jamie wasn’t so sure of the normal milestone timeline as far as that went but neither of her parents seemed concerned.

Her claim to fame at this point was the remarkable feat of giggling. Yes, at the ripe old age of two months, Marissa had figured out how to giggle. Her parents had made it their mission in life to do anything in their power to make sure she made that sound as often as humanly possible.

Most of the time, Jamie teased them about how domesticated they’d become. On his not-so-great days, Jamie pretended the sound irritated him and he made up excuses to get away from it.

On his very worst, rock-bottom days, Jamie admitted that Marissa’s giggles sounded like the peal of little bells and he owned his jealousy. He’d never admit it out loud, not even to Anthony, his best friend.

Jamie didn’t know what kind of day today was. It was crowded but brunch was always crowded. All of Jamie’s brothers were there, although his lone sister had escaped with the simple excuse of being in freaking Mali.

Jamie couldn’t find Mali on a map but Charlotte was there, not here, and Jamie would have traded his Audi to be with her right now. The great room was filled with cousins, aunts, uncles, and Grandma Culver in the same seat she always used.

A server wandered by with a tray of mimosas. Jamie helped himself and sat down beside Anthony. Marissa immediately grabbed for Jamie’s flute, which made her topple over. She thought this was the funniest thing in the world, because her dads rushed to catch her and made a huge fuss.

Jamie hadn’t thought babies could understand concepts like how to manipulate their elders until they were much older but he’d been wrong.

“You’re just encouraging her, you know,” Jamie told them. He couldn’t keep a smile from his lips because Marissa was kicking her tiny feet in delight. She looked so adorable Jamie thought he might cry.

Anthony stuck his tongue out at Jamie. “So, she grows up adventurous and fearless because she trusts her daddies. Don’t you, sweetheart?” he cooed and stole Jamie’s mimosa.

Jamie laughed and accepted another one from the server. “All right, you’re the dads but don’t come crying to me when she takes up bungee jumping and motorcycle racing at fifteen.”

“Oh my God.” Ryan reached for the diaper bag. “I forgot to show you — look what my buddy Vinny sent me.”

He pulled out a set of stuffed toy mechanic’s tools and handed a wrench of some kind to Marissa. The baby shrieked with delight and waved her treasure like a weapon then stuck it in her mouth.

Marianna appeared from the dining room. She looked a little pale but she’d had that look to her ever since she found out how wrong she’d been about Ryan. Sometimes Jamie felt sympathetic because people made mistakes all the time.

And sometimes he thought about Ryan struggling to help Tommy in the face of so many obstacles, knowing no one was there for him. Those times, he could barely stand to look at her.

“Is my granddaughter gnawing on a screwdriver?” she asked, staring.

“No, Mom.” Ryan didn’t look up from his contemplation of his daughter’s face. “It’s a little stuffed socket wrench.”

“Ah. Well, that’s okay then.” She closed her eyes and exhaled, like some navel-gazing finding-your-center crap. “Brunch is ready, if everyone would care to take their seats.”

Everyone did care to take their seats, with the exception of Marissa, who howled at being excluded. She was still too small to sit up for long, though, so she was banished with her carrier to the other room. Tired and well over-excited, she promptly fell asleep. The rest of the family made their way into the massive dining room where the usual sumptuous feast awaited them.

Jamie waited while the food was served. Anthony sat to his right, while an empty spot had been left to his left. Seats were assigned, so he knew the seat had been left blank for Phil, but Phil didn’t usually come to these things.

He got to skip, because apparently saving lives was more important than mimosas and French toast. The bastard. Jamie wondered if he needed any help.

It was good to have Anthony here for these shindigs, though. Now that he’d married Ryan, he was officially a Roscoe. Jamie had always thought of Anthony as family anyway.

Everyone seemed a lot more relaxed with him around, too. Anthony had that effect on people. Jamie just got people riled up.

His brain flashed back to Morgan’s hot, pale body writhing beneath his. Yeah, Morgan had been riled up, all right. Whether that was a good or bad thing, that was anyone’s guess.

He tugged at his collar. He was already starting to sweat. Yeah, he needed to not sit around and think about that sort of thing at the family table.

Lincoln Roscoe, Jamie’s father, yawned from his place near Marianna’s side. “So, Jamie. Have you had a chance to go check out that old house on the mountain yet?”

For some reason, one memory stuck out as particularly clear. A sunbeam caught on a shower of dust, just as he’d climaxed, and everything had frozen in place for just one perfect moment. It had just been him, and Morgan, in an old dusty house while time stood still, but the world had clicked into place.

“Yes, sir. I did.” He swallowed and adjusted his napkin. Christ, even talking about the house was getting him excited. “It’s got good bones, a solid foundation, and there’s nothing wrong with the structure that a coat of paint wouldn’t fix.

“The issue is the whole ‘side of Mount Culver’ thing. The well is dry, there’s no plumbing, and the ground underneath is questionable for running water or sewer lines, thanks to some illegal mining activity back in the forties.”

Grandma Culver perked up and slurped her mimosa down in one gulp. “That was my mother’s house,” she informed them, shouting loud enough to be heard in Vegas.

Jamie supposed he should be more generous than that. She was old, and her hearing had been failing for a long time. She probably had no idea how loud she was.

“Was it?” Anthony asked her, leaning forward. He probably wasn’t kissing up. Lord help them all, he was probably interested.

“Yes it was, young man.” Grandma Culver nodded firmly. “And it was perfectly good for what it was, before the well ran dry.

“You kids today with your wi-fi, your smart phones, your refrigerators that talk to the Interwebs, your flushing toilets with so many attachments and doo-dads they don’t even work if the power goes out. Once upon a time, we lived without any of those things, and let me tell you, it was just fine.”

She pointed a crooked finger at all of them, peering at them from over the top of her glasses. Jamie smiled politely. He’d heard all of this before.

Liam had too, but that didn’t stop him from needling his grandmother. “People died from cholera, too, Grandma.”

“Pssht! Only the weak ones.” She waved a hand at him.

Jamie stared at her, but she winked at him. “Anyway, that well hasn’t had water in it since I married your grandpa.”

Jamie fought to control his laughter. Everyone thought Grandma Culver was a senile old coot, but she was as sharp as she’d ever been. “And the illegal mining?”

“Looking for pretty pennies, I suppose. We tried to run them off, but there was only so much we could do. Then I married Lawton Culver, and we could do a lot more about it, let me tell you what.”

Grandma smiled dreamily and held out her flute for a refill. “I’m not getting any younger here.”

A server stepped forward to refill her flute, and Liam burst into laughter. He slapped his hands together. “This is priceless. I don’t know who you pissed off, Jamie, but you managed to get stuck trying to move a white elephant. That’s grunt work, my man. Sucks to be you.” He reached around Anthony and slapped Jamie on the back.

Unfortunately for Jamie, he wound up slapping him right in the center of the burn area. Jamie couldn’t hold back a hiss of pain as fire arced across his skin. He jerked away, conscious of the eye of every family member in Culver County on him.

Jamie tried to shrink, but that wasn’t possible. He was under a microscope here, and Liam was at the lens.

“I barely touched you,” Liam said. He stood up and walked around Anthony, crouching down beside Jamie. “Are you okay, man?”

Jamie would have paid good money for the ground to open up, swallow him whole, and seal back up behind him. “I’m fine, bro,” he lied, and straightened up. No one could know.

Anthony put a hand on Jamie’s forearm and squeezed. His dark eyes were full of concern, but he didn’t say anything. What could he say?

He knew already. He knew exactly what had just happened. But he couldn’t do anything about it.

“It’s nothing,” Jamie said, sprawling out and grabbing for a miraculously-refilled mimosa. The hard chair back irritated his burn even more. Jamie could cope with that, because he knew it was coming.

All Jamie had to do now was come up with a believable lie. “I’m just a little sore from kicking Phil’s ass at tennis yesterday.”

Both Anthony and Ryan gave him looks now, and the last thing Jamie needed was Ryan knowing about the burn. He’d go all Big Brother on him. It was way too late for that. .

“Phil was playing tennis?” Ryan did a little double take. “Glad he was able to get a little time to himself. They’re working the guy like a dog over at that hospital.”

“They really are.” Anthony piped up to direct attention away from Jamie. “It’s great for his career , but you’d think they’d be a little worried about burnout, wouldn’t you? I mean, they keep him so busy he doesn’t have time for anything. It’s downright shameful.”

Talk turned to more general topics and away from Jamie’s current “grunt work” project. Liam reported in about the big record contract he’d just stolen out from under a big LA label’s nose, and Ryan bragged about his daughter’s latest milestone and his shop’s latest expansion.

Apparently, some cable news channel devoted to cars wanted to give him a show? Jamie didn’t get it; he couldn’t understand why anyone would watch a show about a bunch of guys getting greasy fixing up cars. But he could be happy for Ryan, he supposed.

Marianna flinched at the news, and for once Ryan seemed to agree with her. “I’m iffy on it too,” he said. “It’s flattering as hell, but I’m feeling a little squeamish about the whole TV thing.

“The main reason I can think of to do it is that most guys coming out of prison don’t have a lot of job prospects. It’s a way to highlight the way that the formerly incarcerated can contribute, now that we’ve been released. But it still reads funky to me. Exploitative. I don’t know.”

Liam stroked his chin. “I’m not saying you’re not smart or anything, because you are. But I’ve also got a whole stable of entertainment lawyers. We’re literally paying them to care here. I can have them take a look at whatever the producers have sent you, if you want.”

Ryan brightened. “Would they do it for all the guys? Not just me?”

“You bet.”

Marianna frowned. “Is that the best use of company resources, Liam?”

Jamie bristled. After everything, his mother didn’t get to cheap out here. “As a matter of fact, Ma, it is.”

He gave his mother a bright smile. “Ryan’s expanded his business more than even he thought possible. Turns out there’s a huge market for people who can do standard maintenance, repairs, and custom work. Who knew?”

Ryan chuckled. “Funny, I barely remember that it’s work until it’s time to do the bookkeeping.”

Anthony gave Ryan a look across the table that even had Grandma Culver fanning herself. “I thought that’s what you married me for.”

Ryan opened his mouth to respond, but that’s when the door opened and Phil walked in. “Sorry I’m late,” he said, scurrying to his chair. “There was a hit and run out on Main Street. The victim survived, but they’ve got a severe TBI. We’ll have to see what their long-term prognosis is.”

Liam scratched his head and slurped down another mimosa. “English, maybe?”

“Traumatic brain injury,” Phil translated.

“That’s terrible.” Lincoln was already reaching for his wallet. “What do they need?”

Jamie managed to smile. Even after everything that had happened, this hadn’t changed. If someone in Culvertown needed help, no matter who, the Roscoes would be there in a heartbeat. That was probably why folks around here let them get away with so much, more than the fact that they owned most of the town.

Phil sat up a little straighter. “Right now, we’re still trying to get the swelling under control. We’ll see how it turns out. Maybe a personal touch to the room, when they wake up? A balloon or something?”

“I’m already on it,” said Aunt Elise.

Phil filled his plate with food and slurped down a cup of coffee in one gulp. He probably hadn’t been home before now, poor guy. “Hey, Jamie,” he said, as a server refilled his coffee cup. “You’ll never believe whose face I stitched together the other day. Morgan Patrick.”

Phil was apparently unable to hear Jamie’s heart seize, because he kept right on talking. “He got mugged.”

Liam snorted out a laugh. “Karma.”

Ryan curled his lip. “I’d probably kick his ass too, after what he did to this family. For the record, I’ve been either at the shop or home every night this week, and you can check that.”

Jamie rolled his eyes. Ryan was back in the fold now. Hell, he was top of the food chain. He didn’t need to worry about alibis anymore, and he sure as hell didn’t owe anything for what had been done to this family.

“What he tried to do,” Lincoln corrected in a serious tone. “We’re still here.”

Marianna held her head high and took Lincoln’s hand. “When’s the last time you heard about Roman Patrick in the papers, hmm? Has to be at least two years.”

Phil acknowledged all of this with a single nod, even as Jamie sat frozen. “Roman’s a bastard, it’s true. I don’t think we can put too much blame on Morgan, though, can we? He was just following his dad, trying to be a good son.”

Hey. I told you, I was just doing what Dad told me. You’d have done exactly the same thing, in my shoes. Morgan’s words reverberated through Jamie’s mind.

Ryan jumped in before Jamie could defend Morgan. “Why is it that Charlotte is never here when I need her to slap some sense into someone? Morgan Patrick was a grown-ass adult. He wasn’t a child; he wasn’t mind-controlled; he made his choices.”

Whatever had been banging at Jamie’s head finally exploded. Morgan was hurt. Someone had battered Morgan, hurt him enough to make him need stitches to his face.

Rage warred with worry. He needed to know if Morgan was okay. The urge wasn’t something he wanted to analyze or deny.

Liam laughed from his seat two chairs down. “Oh, hey, Phil; Jamie over here was trying to claim he kicked your ass at tennis yesterday. Now I know that’s not true, is it?”

Phil’s eyes clouded for a second, threatening Jamie’s carefully constructed house of cards. Fortunately for Jamie, Anthony kicked at Phil under the table.

Phil suddenly snorted, “remembering” their game. “Oh, yeah, he wishes. I dragged his ass up and down that court until he cried uncle.”

Anthony caught Jamie’s eye and winked. Jamie breathed out a sigh of relief. Thank God for best friends. Jamie hadn’t told him about his hookup with Morgan, but he didn’t have to. Anthony could read him like a book. .

After brunch, when everyone had retired to the great room for more drinks (of course) and talk, Anthony perked up. “Hey, Phil, I was wondering if you could do me a favor. Marissa has a little bit of a rash. I’m sure it’s nothing, but would you mind taking a look at her?”

“I’ll bring her into the other room, Anthony. That’s not something people need to see so soon after eating.” Jamie jumped up and grabbed Marissa’s carrier. He knew exactly what Anthony was doing. He’d send him a wine basket later. “You stay there; you’re with the baby all day.”

Phil looked suitably confused as he followed Jamie and Marissa into the Red And Useless Sitting Room. Jamie hadn’t ever seen the point of the Red And Useless Sitting Room, but Marianna liked it, so it stayed.

“There’s no rash, is there?” Phil kept his voice low, but his smirk screamed his feelings for him.

“Are you kidding? Anthony would never let you examine Marissa without gloves, in a proper exam room, with him present making sure you washed your hands three times.” Jamie chuckled.

“True.” Phil laughed quietly. “Are you seeing any improvements from that burn cream?”

“I don’t know. I’ll keep using it for a while and see if it helps.” It wasn’t helping, and Jamie didn’t need to be a medical doctor to make that determination, but he lied for his cousin’s sake.

“Listen, Phil.” Jamie had to ask before he chickened out. “Do you have a number for Morgan Patrick?” Of course, Phil had the number. It had to be in a medical file somewhere.

“Dude. You know I’m not supposed to do that. HIPAA ring a bell?” Phil gave him an exasperated look.

Jamie gave him his best puppy-dog eyes. “I won’t misuse it, I promise. I just, I know him, and I need to make sure he’s okay. I’m pretty sure I’m the only person he knows in town. Someone needs to check in with him, right?”

Phil gave him a look of profound disgust, and for a second Jamie thought Phil knew. Then he rubbed his face and sighed. “I’m beat. And I don’t bring patient files to brunch, believe it or not. I’ll text it to you later.”

“Thanks Phil. I owe you.”

“I’ll put it on your tab.” Now Phil did grin, and they headed back into the great room together.