Between the night of Spencer and Erica’s engagement party and the masquerade at Paulie’s house, there’d been one moment where I’d felt more from Spencer than just the camaraderie of a brother-in-law.

Spencer had taken the day off work so Erica could take Emma to San Francisco as a birthday present; they’d had a spa day. Spencer stayed home with three-year-old Ethan.

In the mid-afternoon, in between clients, I checked my cell. I had a message from Spencer. He was sobbing, nearly hysterical. I had to listen to it twice before I could even understand what he was saying. Ethan had started vomiting uncontrollably, and Spencer rushed him to the emergency room. I canceled my next clients and hurried to join him.

Spencer saw me as soon as I entered the waiting room, and he practically flew at me. He crashed into me so hard I nearly fell. He started crying all over again. I’d never seen him like that. Spencer was always stoic, nervous quite a bit of the time, but always collected, always in control.

Through his choked-out sobs, I got the gist. Ethan had been diagnosed with incarcerated hernia and was already in surgery.

To my shame, as terrified as I was for my nephew, my body responded to Spencer crushed against me. The feel of his arms, the trembling of his chest against mine, the strength of his embrace. I twisted my hips so he couldn’t feel my reaction to him. I doubted anyone else in the waiting room would notice. Still, I felt on display. After a few moments, I broke our embrace, took his hand, and led him outside to a secluded breezeway between the main buildings.

We sat on a bench, and Spencer never let go of my hand. It was a minute or more before I realized that our fingers were entwined. And God help me, I tried not to notice, tried not to let my heart soar at finally touching him, finally feeling his body against mine, finally knowing what it was like to have his hand in mine.

Tried to keep my heart from swelling that I was the one he called. The only one he called. Not Erica or my father, or Erica’s mother. No one, just me. Of course he called Erica as well, and she was on her way from San Francisco with Emma, but for now, it was just him and me.

Finally, he looked at me, his voice a little clearer, the sobs gone but tears still streaming. “They say this happens to little kids, something that wasn’t formed right, and it was just a matter of time. Apparently it’s an easy fix. But he’s in surgery. And things happen.” He sniffed. “I’m sorry, Donovan. You must think I’m losing my mind. He was just vomiting so much, and hurting. It hit suddenly. It scared the shit outta me.”

I squeezed his hand and then placed my other one on top of his, sandwiching it in an embrace. “I don’t think you’re losing your mind at all. Your little boy is in surgery. This is scary. This is a huge deal.” I realized how that sounded. “He’ll be okay. Like you said, this is pretty routine, and the doctors here are amazing. Ethan’s going to be fine, but that doesn’t mean it’s not terrifying.”

He nodded and wiped his eyes with his free hand. “You’re right. It will be fine. He’s a tough little monster.” He paused, just breathing, seeming to calm somewhat. Then I realized he was staring at my hand, our hands. He glanced up, his eyes meeting mine. Startled, scared. But I was certain it was a new kind of fear. Fear that didn’t have anything to do with Ethan. He looked away again in less than a second probably. And then pulled his hand slowly from mine.

We sat silently. Then I realized our legs were touching. I wasn’t sure if he noticed or not, but he didn’t move away. I tried to focus on what mattered, be a good uncle, be a good brother-in-law. “He really will be okay. I promise.” A stupid promise, like I could control anything.

“You’re right. Of course you’re right. He will be.” Spencer nodded again, then stood. My leg felt cool from the absence of the pressure between us. “We should get back in there, in case the doctor comes out with an update or something. And… Erica and Emma should be back soon, I would think.”

The way he said that last bit was like he regretted it or that we shouldn’t be on this bench when Erica arrived. And again, I condemned myself for reading into his tone at such a time.

Spencer paused once more. “Thank you for coming. I needed y—” He winced. “I needed someone I trusted, someone who loves my son as much as I do.” To my shock, he hugged me again, sudden, hard, and fierce. The stubble on his cheek scratched against mine. He whispered, low and hot against my ear, “Thank you.”

Then he stepped away, not meeting my eyes.

For weeks I battled with that memory. One moment taking his touch, the sound of his voice, him calling me as more than it was. Him needing me, him wanting to feel me, him choosing me. The rest of the time I crucified myself mentally for even considering such nonsense. For even entertaining the notion. Not only because of Erica and the fact that Spencer was my brother-in-law, but because that time should have been about my nephew. Who I truly did love as much as if he were my own. There should’ve been no thought other than his safety. But in the dark of night, the memory of Spencer’s hand in mine, the strength of his body, the scrape of his beard, the masculine smell of him would come back. Fill my dreams, haunt me in my lonely and weak moments. Make me imagine things I shouldn’t. Increase a desire that I should be killing instead of stoking like a fire.

“There’s something wrong, I don’t know what it is, but you might as well tell me and get it over with. You know I’ll figure it out.” Mom tapped the table. “But give me a spoiler at least. I don’t need to be worried about anything health related, do I?”

“No, Mom. Healthy as a horse.” And that was probably true, especially considering the amount of physical exercise I’d dived into in the two days since Spencer had joined me in the shower. Every evening after work, it was like I was training for a triathlon. But it was the only time each day when my brain finally shut down. Despite the occasional protest from my muscles and joints, I almost felt like I was thirty again. Although, any benefit the cardio provided to my heart, the stress was taking away.

“I’m glad you’re healthy, but something’s wrong. Even your nephews didn’t make you laugh tonight, and I don’t remember that ever happening before.”

If there was ever a parent who would understand what I was going through, it would be my mother. She was always a realist and rarely sugarcoated anything. Even her own faults. Wanda Betts Carlisle was the definition of practical. I suppose me pining after my brother-in-law for the past decade wasn’t exactly practical, but neither would it shock her. She might be the only one on either side of the family who would be able to claim that.

Maybe I gave in because my therapist was away and wouldn’t be returning for several more days and I was feeling a bit desperate. “I’m not giving you details, but I’m afraid I’ve done something the family won’t be happy about.” The unspoken truth was that wasn’t a huge factor. Not ultimately, at least. I had made a list in my evenings alone. The con list outweighed the positive. But the cons mostly revolved around everyone else. The family, rumors, drama. Maybe such things would’ve stopped me a decade before, but not now. Still, I felt I needed to offer Mom some sort of warning.

Her eyes widened, her tone was worried. “You and your brother seemed fine tonight. I know Tiffany can be a little bit abrasive, but—”

“No, Mom. Not us, the other side of the family.”

She let out a relieved sigh and visibly relaxed. “Oh, good.” She straightened, correcting herself before I could interject. “Not that I want anything bad to happen there either, but I’m glad things are okay with us.” A smile played on her lips. “I don’t suppose you finally told your father where he can stuff it?”

I rolled my eyes.

“Didn’t figure.” She shrugged. “Oh well.” She motioned toward our waitress, who veered off from the direction she was headed. “Can we put in an order for two decaf coffees and some of Mabel’s peach pie? We’re going to be here awhile.”

“Mom.” I let out a warning growl, regretting opening up already.

She waved me off, addressing our server instead. “Ignore him, he’s a party pooper. We’ll take some ice cream too.”

“Yes, ma’am.” The waitress nodded and headed off to the kitchen once more.

Mom looked back at me and folded her hands together on top of the table, leveling her gaze. “Fill me in, Donovan. You know I’ll keep my mouth shut and I won’t judge.”

That I did know. My mother never judged anyone, except for my father. But even that was sparing. Mom had been John Carlisle’s second wife. They’d gotten together while he was still with his first. Though I didn’t remember their divorce, I’d always felt that Mom believed she deserved it when he left her, as well, for a younger woman. The only difference being, she was pregnant with my younger brother at the same time as his mistress was pregnant with Erica’s older brother. I knew she’d understand matters of the heart not being clear-cut, but as close as I was to her, talking about sex had never been one of our things.

After a minute of me trying to decide what to say, she let out a huff. “Spit it out, Donovan.”

“I’m in l—” No. No way in hell was I doing this. I shook my head as if trying to clear away whatever fog had entered my brain to make me think talking about any of this with my mother was a good idea. “Sorry, Mom. It’s just too weird. I can’t.”

“Oh.” Her voice perked up. “So it’s about sex.”

I covered my face with my hands and rested my elbows on the table, refusing to look at her. “My God.”

She chuckled. “Oh, come on. You’re a forty-five-year-old man. I think by this point we can talk about sex.”

I glanced at her through my fingers. “I’m forty-two, Mom. And you’re the second person to do that recently.”

“Talk to me about age when you’re sixty-four.” The teasing left her voice. “I’m sorry whatever is happening is causing you worry, but I’m glad that there is someone. You’ve been alone for so long. I don’t want that for you.”

Our waitress came over with coffee and dessert, thankfully. She was walking away when Mom’s eyes widened. I followed her gaze over my shoulder. Erica and Cody had just entered the restaurant. Erica halted instantly. She smiled at me and gave a half-hearted wave toward my mother. I could tell she was trying to decide whether to stay or leave. Probably deciding it was more awkward to back out now, they took a seat on the far side of the restaurant.

“This town is too damn small.” Mom took a large forkful of pie and ice cream and stuffed it in her mouth. She swallowed it too quickly to have either chewed or tasted it. “I don’t know why I stayed so you and your brother could have a relationship with that man. It would’ve been better for all of us if I had moved us back home to my parents.”

I stayed silent and let the dessert do the distracting for me.

“I’ll tell you one thing; your little sister comes by it naturally. Although cheating on that Spencer, I just can’t imagine it. You couldn’t ask for anyone nicer.” It sounded like the dessert wasn’t doing such a great job of distracting my mother. Her voice lowered. “Although, I guess I’m in no place to judge.” Over forty years later, and I doubted a day went by that my mom didn’t rake herself over the coals for her affair. Every heartache, every sorrow, and every stress had been viewed from the lens of her getting what she deserved. Even the battle with breast cancer and the double mastectomy. It hurt to watch.

The pie was gone, and we were on our second cup of decaf when she finally returned to the topic at hand. “You’re worried about something sexual tearing up our families. Honestly, Donovan, I can’t even imagine what’s worrying you. What sexual scandal hasn’t happened in our family? And yet we’re all still here. Unless you’re in love with a goat or something. There’s nothing you can do that your father or I would have any room to pass judgment on. Although, I do hope you’re making choices that won’t haunt you for the rest of your life.” Once again, her gaze flicked over my shoulder toward the door, then away distractedly. She sucked in a breath and looked back. “Oh, well, here we go and speaking of the devil.”

I turned around. Spencer and the kids stood in the doorway. I followed his gaze to Erica and Cody. He started to back out the door, but Ethan noticed me and let out a happy yell. “Uncle Donovan!”

As Ethan rushed over, Spencer whipped his head around to look at me. At any other time, with any other person, or in any other situation, the clash of emotions over his face might’ve been comical. But humor was the last thing on my mind as Ethan smashed into me with a hug. Spencer looked completely terrified, though he masked it as quickly as he could.

Across the table, as Emma joined in the hug as well, I heard my mother sucking a little gasp of comprehension. It seemed he hadn’t covered his reaction as quickly as I’d thought.

Despite Emma’s and Ethan’s protestations, my mother and I left quickly. We stayed long enough to say our hellos and other such pleasantries that nobody truly cared about, and dashed out the door. She didn’t even comment on me tossing down a wad of cash to pay for the dinner. I walked her to her car, and she met my gaze after I gave her a hug. “I suppose I should’ve seen this coming. Maybe it’s because I haven’t spent very much time with the two of you in the same room. Or maybe I just never would’ve considered….” Her tone was sad, not judgmental. “Honestly, I don’t care about John or the rest of his stupid family. Though the kids are innocent. My only worry is you. And this could tear you up.” She patted my cheek before she stepped into her car. “I love you, Donovan. I don’t want you to hurt.”