Rob decided that everything had gone to shit, all because it was raining. He didn’t know why he was blaming the rain, but because of it, all of Rob’s well-laid plans had begun to spiral out of control. So far, he’d introduced the kids around, got them horse riding, making sure they spent time with Sam, even helping Ashley make cakes.

He just wished he could pin Justin down, but he kept disappearing the minute Rob got near him.

And now it was raining, and he’d already read four books to Toby who kept climbing onto his lap. He did a lot of that, clinging to Rob, hugging his leg, asking him to read stories. Rob couldn’t help feeling a growing affection for his nephews. After all, they were family. He saw his sister in them, but also himself in Bran. With all his bravado and the walls he created to protect him and his brother from the world, he was just like Rob.

They were stuck indoors, the three of them, Bran and Toby at the window looking out at the heavy downpour and whispering.

“Mom used to take us out in the rain,” Bran said and turned away from the window to face Rob.

Rob remembered his sister loving the rain, almost as much as Rob loved to swim. How had he forgotten that? His memories of Suzi had been pushed down for so long, and he missed her. A weight settled in his heart. He’d never got to say goodbye to her, but all that time he was away she’d still loved him, still thought of him.

Hell, she’d given her family to him.

“I wanna go out,” Toby announced.

Toby had become so much more confident around Rob, and he couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or not. The little hellion loved to climb all over him, pretending he was a tree or something, and poked at Rob every chance he could.

He liked the curious little boy who was learning his new world so fast.

No, it was more than like. It was love. Rob wanted to be there for him in a way that was hopeless to imagine.

And how had that happened? Since when was feeling sorry for himself an option?

“We don’t have coats,” he said. He had to be the sensible one, right?

Bran shoved open the window and held out his hand, his nose wrinkled in concentration. “It’s warm rain,” he decreed, which was enough to have Toby scrambling down and pulling on the tiny boots that Gabe had dropped off for them both yesterday.

“Let’s go!” he said and bounced on his toes.

Rob guessed it wouldn’t hurt to go for a quick walk. It was nearly lunchtime, and they all needed to eat.

“To Branches,” he announced, opened the door, and led the two boys out. Which didn’t last for long when they scampered ahead and danced in the rain. There was yelling and laughing and jumping in puddles, and Rob tried his damnedest not to find it heartwarming in any way. He loved that the boys played together, wished nothing more for them than that they could live their lives normally and close to each other, as part of a caring community.

They reached the bridge, and the boys went up on tiptoes, looking over the side as best they could, which wasn’t all that well. Then something happened. Rob was close but couldn’t hear them, and under the canopy of the tree by the bridge, he saw that Toby was crying.

Bran pulled Toby into his arms and held him, and he was sobbing so hard. Rob moved closer, not sure what to do.

“I miss Mom,” Toby said, and Bran rocked him.

Part of the shell around Rob’s heart splintered. Would it mess up his plans to comfort them? It wasn’t as if casual affection meant anything to them at all. He could be the grown-up here, the kindly uncle they needed until he moved on. He went straight to his knees and held out his hands, and for a second he thought they wouldn’t move until suddenly he had his arms full of two children who clung to him as if, somehow, he could make things right.

I don’t have time to make things right for anyone.

He held them close, and they talked about Suzi, about how she had long hair, and baked cookies, and how she’d been ill.

What he was doing was helping. He had to be sure of it. The world moved on as they talked. People walked by, but no one stopped to ask what was wrong, even though they were sitting under the tree in the rain on the wet ground. Why would they ask? The three of them had their backs to the bridge and were chatting quietly after Toby had stopped crying, and everyone was too polite to call them out on any of that.

“She loved Bunny as much as I do,” Toby offered as his last comment on the matter. “I ’member that.”

How many memories of their mom would they have after he left? The only one who could tell them about her childhood was him. He pulled up the first thing he could recall, one of his earliest memories.

“Your mom had a teddy. She called him Freddy and carried it everywhere when she was little. But the stuffing fell out because she loved him so much, and I had to fix him. All we had were staples, and she carried him around for a long time after.” He remembered Freddy was on her bed the night he’d left, at eighteen, for the navy. The last time he’d seen her.

Silence.

“Freddie was in the box with her,” Bran said in a hushed whisper.

That didn’t make sense to Rob until horribly, it did. His sister, their mom, had been buried with the teddy? Grief flooded him, the kind of grief he had to stop feeling. He didn’t have time for it, and each day they were there, without him settling everything for the kids, was another day of his life gone.

He stood up and brushed himself off.

“Come on, kids, lunch.”

By the time they made it to Branches, sitting at a table in the corner, both of them had calmed down and seemed to want to talk about their mom, and all Rob could do was listen, even as he was hoping that Sam would make an appearance. It was his place after all. But it seemed other people were working the restaurant right now, and that didn't bode well for the kids getting the chance to connect with Sam and Justin. Maybe he needed to put more of his focus on Ashley and Gabe. Yes, they were having a new baby, but that wasn’t such an obstacle, right?

“Mom always said you were lost when you were away being a hero, Uncle Rob,” Bran said, pulling him from his thoughts, “and that was why you couldn’t come and get us. She was sad about it sometimes.”

The arrival of their salads interrupted the flow of questions, but Bran was nothing if not tenacious.

“So what kind of hero were you?” he persisted and concentrated on piling lettuce on his fork.

“Were you a soldier?” Toby asked. Possibly the first real direct question he’d ever given Rob.

“Kind of,” Rob answered vaguely, “but not a hero, just someone doing a job.”

"Yeah, she said that as well. But you must have known about us, right? About Toby and me?"

Both of them stared at him, waiting for an explanation. How did he explain that he’d tried not to know a thing, that apart from the fact they’d been born, he hadn't wanted to form any bond with them or with his sister?

The sacrifice was big.

The sacrifice was the only way to keep them, and everyone else in this country, safe.

“I was away a lot,” he finally offered. The sad part of that was that neither of them seemed to question the statement.

By the time they’d seen the horses and made it back to the cabin, his back ached like a bitch, and the tingling in his left arm wouldn’t stop. The docs had warned him about this, poison from the bullet leaching into his body, giving him a rough idea of when he’d have no choices left. He tried not to think about it, but when the day was done, the kids safely in bed, and everywhere locked up, he gave in and took the Fentanyl.

The relief was almost instant. The experts told him that with his limited timeframe and as the end drew near, he wouldn’t be able to live without the painkillers. He’d proved them wrong for much of the time; he’d managed without them for a while now. In the days they’d been at Crooked Tree, this was only the second time he’d given in.

The pain was not taking him down, not after everything else he'd survived.

Sleep was a long time coming, but at least it wasn't the pain that kept him awake, but instead the nagging guilt that he should have been there for Suzi. He could have held her hand when she’d found out she had cancer, supported her even as she was dying, maybe looked after his nephews.

But he hadn’t. He’d put his country before his own family, and now he was paying for it.

You made your choice. Live with it, asshole.

Something woke Rob. A noise, a whispered call of his name, he wasn’t sure. All he knew was that when he opened his eyes again, it was dark and someone was sitting on the end of his bed. This second visit to him when he was sleeping was getting old.

Justin held up the box of Fentanyl, tossing it in his hand and catching it deftly.

“Want to tell me what this is for?”

“What the fuck are you doing in here again? I thought you’d be past this stalking me in my sleep by now.”

Justin ignored him. “And I say again. Why the heavy meds?”

Rob was sure he’d put them away in his bedside cabinet, so Justin had gotten in and rummaged through his drawer, all while he slept. Not to mention the small bedside lamp was on, although Rob couldn’t exactly remember if he’d left it on. Sleeping with a light on had become his new normal in case the pain got to be too much, and he couldn't see the way to the bathroom to be sick.

Getting sloppy now.

“I was injured; I’m in pain.” He sat up, refusing to show any of the aches he was feeling from a combination of the injury he was hiding.

Justin kept tossing that damn box and regarded him thoughtfully. “You remember the Clemens job; the arms deals out of Boston?”

“Justin—”

“You remember the bullet you took, high up in the thigh? It didn’t have an exit wound, and you walked on that leg for six, maybe seven hours, and you wouldn’t even take one solitary Tylenol.”

“I didn’t need meds, I had adrenaline.”

“You forget I know you, Rob. I know you are as stubborn as fuck and you refuse to allow yourself a single moment of vulnerability. You’ve got ice for blood and a heart too hard to be pretend-daddy to two kids. So you want to start that again? Oh, and while you’re at it, tell me what the fuck you are really doing here.”

Rob twisted on the bed, placing his feet on the floor. He didn’t want to be stuck under sheets if he had a former special agent in his room. Rob Brady didn’t show weakness to anyone, least of all one as highly trained as Justin.

“I told you that as well. I’m visiting my only friend.”

Justin tossed the box in the air again, and looked at him thoughtfully. “What. Are. You. Doing. Here?" he asked and stood, stepping closer, so there was only a foot between them.

“I don’t have any fucking idea!” He shouted, because he couldn’t keep the tension stuffed inside him anymore. “I’m desperate and I have nowhere else to go.”

Justin stared at him, and waited. The asshole wasn’t letting this alone.

“All I know is I’m a dad now, you know,” Rob began because that seemed like the simplest place to start. “Not exactly a dad in the strictest biological sense of being a father, but I’m all that Bran and Toby have.” Being an uncle wasn’t news. He’d been one since Bran was born eight years ago, followed a few years later by Toby. He just hadn’t seen his nephews up close, and they existed in a nebulous world he never thought he’d see. Until a fucking bullet tore into him.

“And?” Justin prompted him, and Rob realized he’d slipped into another train of thought and that his brain was fuzzy from the meds.

“Can we…?” he glanced at his watch, the luminous dial displaying 3:10 a.m. “I need coffee.”

Justin blocked him from leaving. “Don’t change the fucking subject, asshole.”

It was all Rob could do not to curl up back on the bed and will Justin to leave, but he needed to clear his damn head and talk honestly. So he confronted the naked aggression in Justin and held his ground.

“I need coffee, and then I’ll talk.”

Justin let him pass, followed him close, refused a coffee, and then it was a matter of where to open up and maybe get the shit kicked out of him. Certainly not in the cabin. Might as well use the trees as he’d done with Aaron. He led Justin away from the cabin to the trees. Finding the tree stump and sitting on it, all while trying not to wince. Where did he start? With picking up the kids? Or getting shot? Or even further back?

“My sister died, and I wasn’t there. I wasn’t anywhere, actually. They couldn’t find me.”

Justin took the trunk opposite him, although he looked as if he wanted to be anywhere but sitting there. Or maybe it was just that he was wary of the truth. Compassion spiked in Rob. Did Justin think this was something to do with him?

Of course, he does. You turned up in the middle of the night, and you haven’t left yet.

“No one was supposed to find either of us,” Justin murmured. “That was the whole point.”

“But she was dying.”

“My dad had cancer, and I couldn’t be there for him. It was hard but it was who we were.”

“At least you checked in on them. I never checked on Suzi or the kids. I cut myself out of their lives as if I were dead.”

“So? Nothing you ever said to me made me think you wanted to be around family, or hell, that you even had a family. So why the crap about feelings now?”

“I broke cover because I needed to say goodbye.”

How did he even begin to explain how he’d had to change? What was it about that small weight of metal wedged against his spine that had rendered him a sap who thought he should reconnect to family before he ended his life? Should he even tell Justin what he was doing? That he was planning to leave the kids and vanish again, and that he’d drawn up a will assigning guardianship of the kids to Justin, along with the phone number of the governor who had aided him? What would Justin think? Perhaps it was just best to start from the beginning.

“Goodbye to your sister.”

“And the kids.”

Justin looked thoughtful. “You mean in case something happened?”

Rob shook his head. “Not in case. Because something did happen. I always thought I’d die on the job, you know. We were good agents, but it was inevitable that one day even you would be forced to turn against me the same way I was sent to kill you. Right?”

Justin was expressionless. When Rob had visited him last, Justin had asked that Rob kill him away from others, where he wouldn’t be found. He’d never questioned that Rob would kill him at all. It was just accepted.

“Well, I’m not killing you, so cut to the chase, Rob,” he growled.

“A bullet nearly took me out. A few millimeters either way, and I would have bled out, job done, lying underneath the mark I’d agreed to dispatch. He was a particularly evil motherfucker.”

“You were shot. Okay, it hurts, probably like a bitch, which explains the Fentanyl.”

Rob realized he was skipping to the end of this story, and he had much more that he needed Justin to understand. He closed his eyes briefly and then started even further back.

“My parents passed away five years ago, Dad to early-onset Alzheimer’s, Mom to pneumonia six months later. I didn’t go to their funerals. Other things were more important. Saving lives, keeping the country safe. You know how it was.”

“What the hell does that have to do with the meds? I don’t need a history lesson on the Brady family.”

Justin leaned back against the curve of a tree beside the old stump, as if he was there for the night, and for a moment, Rob directly stared at his friend. Justin looked good, less haunted, happy, his eyes clear of the awful shadows of guilt. But under the peace, he knew Justin was still that man who’d stood next to Rob and cleared the country of homegrown terrorists. Justin had been a hard, blunt tool, and that much was still inside him.

“My sister died, but I didn’t know. It happened about the same time I was injured, a year back, but she was gone.”

“Side question here. What the hell were you doing on a job anyway? You told me you were done.”

Trust Justin to focus on that. “I was talking about my sister.”

“We’ll get to that, meanwhile, what kind of authorization did you have to be on this job, Rob?”

“Classified.”

Justin cursed loudly. “You said you were out.”

“From the team, yes, but that didn’t mean the bad guys gave up trying to kill people out there. I freelanced.”

“God, Rob, you had the chance to retire, to make something real for the rest of your life.”

Rob ignored the concern in his friend’s unspoken same as me, and forged ahead. “So I was making things right, you know, and I turned up at the address I had.”

“To say goodbye to her, because she was dying.”

“No. Yes.”

“Which is it?”

“Look, I didn’t even know she was ill, and I get there and find she’s died, and my nephews are in the care of Child Services, and I’m their only living relative. It was all there in black and white. I’m all they have. I should have jumped at the chance at having them with me.”

Justin tensed as if Rob’s intentions hit him squarely. “What do you mean ‘should’?”

“I was going to leave them where they were.” Rob closed his eyes momentarily. He shouldn’t forget that Justin knew him well, understood that he was hard and a loner.

“What the hell? They’re your blood.”

“We didn’t all have lives like you had, J,” he snapped and then sighed noisily. “Jesus, yes, for the first week, all I could think was what was the point in me having them? Two kids so young. They’d lost their mom, and abruptly they have an asshole uncle as temporary guardian?”

“So what changed?”

“I researched the family they were with, and I didn’t like the dad. Bran said he’d never hurt them, but I didn’t like him.” He rubbed his chest. “I didn’t like what I saw, so I needed to make sure they had a place I was happy with.”

He didn’t give much away, but Justin would read between the lines anyway.

“Not with you,” he said.

Rob nodded. “No.”

“But you clearly changed your mind because they’re with you now?”

“No.”

Justin frowned, and he didn’t seem so relaxed. “What are you doing here at Crooked Tree then?” Even as he asked the question, his expression changed from confusion to temper. Apparently, the penny had dropped, and he’d come to the right conclusion all on his own.

“Justin—”

"What the fuck, Rob! Were you leaving them here? What? With me? Jesus, what the hell—?”

“Let me explain.”

By now Justin was standing, looming over him, his expression incredulous, and his hands in fists at his sides. Rob stood as well, pain knifing down his legs, and they faced off like they had done so many times before.

But this wasn’t a level playing field; Rob was desperate.

Justin’s expression was hard. “If you don’t want your own flesh and blood, then surely there is another foster family?”

And that was the question that plagued him. There must be good families out there, but who would make sure the foster family looked after the kids when he was gone? At least here at Crooked Tree, he knew that Justin would watch out for them.

He held up a hand to get Justin to back away, and after a moment he did at least take a step back, although he was bristling with temper.

“I was sitting in a room after I’d done the research. It was papered with posters about foster care, about how special people were needed for exceptional children. Just as Bran sitting opposite me frowning and accusing me all at the same time. Or Toby who was sniffling into the sleeve of his jacket and hiccupping a sob every so often. What could I say when Child Services said I had permission to take them?”

“I’m so confused right now,” Justin said carefully.

It was now or never.

“Fuck, Justin, I’m dying,” Rob announced. “I had to say goodbye because I only had three months to live.”

At first, it seemed as if Justin hadn’t heard him. He blinked at Rob and said nothing, and then he shoved at him.

“Don’t lie to me, Rob.”

Rob sat, the shooting pain in his left leg making him feel wobbly and nauseous. He’d come to terms with dying when he’d been told, not really wishing for anything in his life in particular, but now he needed to call on that nebulous friendship he had with Justin to ask for help.

“I swear I’m not lying. The bullet, or what was left of it, is lodged near my spine. Too near to remove it safely, and it’s encased in scar tissue, leaching lead into my bloodstream, causing mild paralysis in my limbs and a shit-ton of pain from the mess in my muscles. Oh, and memory loss which is fucking shitty.”

Justin stared at him, so many emotions flickering over his face that Rob couldn’t make them all out. He was looking for the lie, trying to see if he could trust Rob.

“Christ,” Justin said and slumped back onto his seat.

“I was told the kind of life I might have after an operation, and I don’t mean the outcome where I die on the table, but the other one where I am paralyzed and a burden to everyone and no one because I don’t have anyone. So, I’m here, with whatever time I have left, dosed up on Fentanyl, finding somewhere safe for my family and asking my friend to help me.”

Justin closed his eyes. The glow from the cabin highlighted the tension in his expression. Then his eyes snapped open. “Wait. What did you say?”

“I’m asking a friend—”

“No, you said there was something they could do? An operation with specific outcomes.” Justin prompted.

A small part of Rob died inside. He didn’t want Justin believing there was a way out of this.

“No.”

“Rob—”

“Paralyzed, Justin. Or dead. Okay? The bullet’s so high it would be from the neck down, and then what would I be to those boys? Nothing. I’m taking what time I have left and making my life count for a change, going out fighting. For Bran and Toby. Finding them a family. You get that, right?”

Justin scrubbed at his eyes with the heel of his hands. “Make your life count? What we did, saving lives, that means we already count, asshole.”

“Not in the same way, not to me. When my sister was here, when she had her family, that was what I was fighting for, okay? It gave me purpose, a reason for what we were doing. I thought I was working for my country, but when it came down to it, I think I was fighting for my nephews, for their future. I’m still fighting for them now.”

“But you’ve just told me you’re happy to walk away from them?”

“Justin, are you even listening to me? I'm not deciding to leave. I have no choice at all. I have maybe another two months left now before the pain is too much, and I want this done before I take myself off somewhere to end my life.” I need this to be done. “You can take all the money I have. I need you to promise me you will look after the boys, keep them here.”

“I don’t need your money.” Justin sounded tired.

“But you’ll look out for the boys for me? They could have family here, be a part of your life. Sam would feed them all the best stuff, and you could teach them to ride, and tell them that their uncle Rob did love them in his own way.”

Justin went quiet; his head bowed, his fingers laced together. Then he glanced up.

“What happens to you? Hmm? Will the bullet end up killing you on its own? Or do you mean you’re taking your own life, somehow?”

“Maybe the bullet will get there first, but soon the pain will be too much, and yeah, I’m going to take myself out of the equation.”

He waited for Justin to call him a coward, but knew he’d never say that.

“Selfish fucker,” Justin murmured.

Rob tensed, but he’d already run through the thoughts about what he was doing being selfish. But he’d always ended up knowing he was doing the right thing.

“I know you can’t talk for Sam,” Rob murmured. “But, please, Justin, consider doing this for Bran and Toby.”

“No.”

Rob’s heart sank. He’d been pinning everything on Justin. “Please, Justin.”

“I didn’t mean no, to Bran and Toby. I meant, no, I can’t talk for Sam.” He shook his head as he spoke, and Rob’s chest tightened.

“I understand,” he said, even though hope was slowly slipping away.

“But I know Sam, and his heart is big enough for more than just me.” He regarded Rob steadily. “You think we would throw them out? As long as Bran and Toby need a home, they’ll have one at Crooked Tree. Maybe not with Sam and me, who knows, but they will have family.”

Relief flooded Rob, and he rose to his feet at the same time as Justin, his hand outstretched, waiting to shake on the offer. Justin ignored his hand, pulling him in for a hug instead.

“I’m sorry for you and your selfish, stupid decision, but mostly I’m sorry for them because they won’t get to know you thoroughly,” Justin said. Then conversation over, he left.

Rob managed to get back to bed, although he didn’t sleep at first, despite the remnants of Fentanyl in his system. He could go now and be at peace. Somehow, sleep pulled him under, and he woke to the light weight of the boys sitting on his sheets. They appeared uncertain, and he knew he should send them back to their bedroom, be the hard-hearted asshole they couldn’t love. Make them not want him but want Sam and Justin instead.

Instead, he opened his arms, and they crawled into his hold, and he inhaled the scent of them as they snuggled in.

“We had dreams,” Bran murmured.

“With monsters,” Toby added, Bunny squashed between them.

“There’s no such thing as monsters,” Rob said and moved right to the edge of the bed in case they thought he was comforting them.

Pity he was lying. There were monsters out there. Real people with guns and bombs who wanted to kill and maim. That was the kind of terrors that formed his nightmares.

When he woke the next time, the boys were standing at the end of his bed.

“We had breakfast, and Toby wants to learn to swim,” Bran informed him. “I could show him, but I need help.”

“Let’s go.” Toby bounced on his toes.

Wait, this wasn’t right. They needed to distance themselves from him. He should call Justin and ask him to take them.

“No,” he said and hid his face under the sheet, torn between wanting to show them and continuing to build the wall to protect them from his disappearance.

He peeked out to see them both still there and Toby still bouncing.

“Uncle Rob needs coffee,” Bran said and then vanished into the kitchen, Toby going with him.

Rob rolled up out of bed, breathing through the pain and dressing in shorts and a T-shirt. Then he padded in to find coffee, taking over from Bran who had managed to spill beans and was confused by the buttons on the machine. At least the delay gave the low-grade meds he’d taken time to work, and by the time they’d started walking up the hill, he felt halfway human.

The first swimming lesson was a compromise of sorts because they didn’t go up to Silver Lake, instead heading for a small pond outside the Todd place. There were deeper parts to the water there, but he wanted to see exactly how much confidence they had before he took them to the big glacial Silver Lake.

If I’m still here. I can leave now that Justin said he’d have my back…

They started with bobbing around, with their feet on the bottom, and Bran showed that he was actually a good swimmer and was happy to go a little farther each time as long as Rob stayed with Toby, who was anxious. In the end, Rob floated on his back with both boys clinging to him, chattering on and on about everything and nothing, and practicing treading water. Neither boy panicked, and Rob was proud of them both.

“He’s gonna be a good swimmer,” Bran confided as Toby took a few hesitant strokes away from Rob’s grasp before doggy paddling back to him, grinning widely. The scared, quiet little boy was disappearing before his eyes, replaced by a kid who really wanted to spread his wings.

“So can we go to Silver Lake now?” Bran asked as they walked back to the cabin.

“Maybe another day.”

“Okay, maybe on Sunday when Milly and Jake come here.”

Toby walked next to his brother, but they weren’t holding hands.

Having to stay here three more days, maybe teaching Toby and Bran to swim, giving them a happy memory of the kind of person that Rob was? Swimming with the children, and seeing Aaron?

Maybe I will stay just a few more days.

It turned out he didn’t have to wait until Sunday to see Aaron.

He visited again that night, late because his shift had just ended, and wordlessly led Rob to the trees. The quick mindless sex was just what he needed, right up against that same tree. This time it was him bracing against the aged wood. Aaron held him as if he weighed nothing, forced him to feel every breathtaking moment of his orgasm, collapsing against him briefly and then stepping back.

“This is getting to be a habit,” Aaron murmured.

Rob turned to face him. “Twice is not a habit.”

Aaron buttoned himself up and winked. “It will be after the next time.”

“There isn’t going to be a next time,” Rob snapped and leaned more on the tree.

“That’s what you say. See you next time.”

With a flash of that familiar sexy smile, Aaron vanished into the dark. Rob wanted to slide bonelessly down the tree, but if he did that, he might never get back up again. He managed to hobble inside, locked up, showered, grabbed water and his meds. Swallowing the Fentanyl, he then staggered to bed, knowing he would pay for what he’d just done in the morning.

But was sure he'd agree to do it all again.

Which they did.

Two nights in a row.

And fuck, it was becoming more than a habit because he wanted it each time Aaron appeared.