Jake got maybe four hours of sleep Sunday night, but it was worth it when he saw the amazing spread of food covering the kitchen island, as well as the trays of meat and kabobs waiting to hit the grill. Cold salads rested in bowls of ice to stay chilled, bags of chips sat in bowls waiting to be opened, two-liter bottles of sodas and cups stood near a bowl that would soon be filled with more ice—not to mention the two coolers outside full of beer, wine coolers, and Smirnoff Ice drinks.

Their first guests were due to arrive any time, and Jake was vibrating with excitement for their first major party as a throuple. In their shared home. With Dell, Taro and Ryan as a support team. Jake hadn’t spent as much time with Ryan as the others, but Ryan proved amazingly adaptable as Jake asked him to do various small tasks and errands around the house. Even though Jake and Chet had planned this together, everyone seemed to look to Jake for guidance.

Which he really, really loved. In some ways, it would be like running his own kitchen one day. Or his own catering company. Or food truck. The sky was the limit, and he was ready to fly.

Jon Buchanan and his husband Isaac Gregory were the first to ring the bell. Jon was a former model now studying to be a nutritionist, Isaac a writer and illustrator of graphic novels, and both men were amazed to meet Ryan. The surprise and excitement carried into the afternoon as more people arrived. Cris had invited a few clients, which had shocked Jake, but Cris insisted no one would care about their three-man relationship.

Jake took over the grill as the backyard filled with smiling, laughing people, trying to time the hot dogs, kebabs and burgers so nothing overcooked. The veggies didn’t need as long, and he sipped at a Coke while he cooked and chatted with whoever stopped by the grill. Chet and Ryan were standing under a tree with a small group of people who seemed eager to get to know Chet’s son. If Ryan was uncomfortable being the center of attention, he never showed it.

“Jake, hey!” A familiar, excitable voice made Jake nearly drop his turner. Tristan Lavalle was dragging his fiancée Gabe Henson toward him, a big smile on his face—and behind them were Bear and Richard.

Shit, shit, shit! They aren’t supposed to be here.

“Hi,” Jake said dumbly to Tristan. “I thought you guys had another barbecue to be at.”

“We do, but it doesn’t start until two,” Tristan replied. He was slender, dark-blond, and he perfectly contrasted with his muscled, dark-haired shadow. “Plus, when Jon texted Gabe about Chet’s son, we had to stop over and take a peek. Is that him? He’s hot.”

Gabe elbowed Tristan’s ribs. “Behave.” To Jake he said, “We aren’t staying for food or anything, so don’t worry about running out. I just can’t tell this one no when he gets something in his head.”

Tristan had always struck Jake as being a bit of an unstoppable force. “Please, go say hello,” Jake said. “You know Chet loves seeing his former models.”

On a peel of laughter, Tristan led Gabe toward the tree, and Jake braced himself for the two men who had yet to speak.

“How are you doing, Jake?” Bear asked, his usually gruff voice soft.

“I’m. Fine.” Jake poked at a burger that was inching close to medium. “Thanks for asking.”

“The yard looks lovely,” Richard said. “You did a fine job of decorating.”

“Chet and Cris picked most of it.” He looked each man in the eyes in turn. “I’m going to culinary school. I’m moving on with my life. Okay?”

The older men exchanged concerned looks. “Okay,” Bear said. “Good luck with school, Jake, I mean it. You’re a good kid with a bright future. Just…don’t hold too much inside, okay? Speaking from personal experience, it gets toxic and it’ll eat at you. I had Richard. You’ve got Cris and Chet. Use ‘em.”

Jake swallowed back tears and nodded. “Thank you. I’ll see you around, okay?”

“Sure. Take care, son.”

The ‘son’ didn’t help the lump in his throat dissolve at all. When Bear said ‘son’ it felt more real, more genuine than anytime Jake’s own father had said it. It also made him wonder what personal experience Bear had with these kinds of secrets, but he didn’t dare ask. He simply ached a bit for his former boss.

Once the burgers hit medium, Jake moved them to a higher rack and asked who wanted cheese. Soon, meat came off the grill and either onto waiting buns, or a platter for folks to serve themselves. The hustle of it reminded Jake of work and helped focus him, pulling him away from the brief appearances of people he hadn’t wanted to see today. When he had a chance to look up from the grill, the Henson/Lavalle quartet was gone, but the damage was done.

Jake didn’t know everyone here. He’d been introduced to many, especially the models he’d met during last December’s Mean Green Christmas party, but there were still strangers around. Music filtered through Alexa’s speaker, not loud enough to annoy the neighbors, but loud enough that a few guys were dancing. Jake stayed close to the grill with its heat and fire, his stomach in knots, unsure why he no longer felt safe in his own backyard.

He handed the grill tongs over to the closest person to him with a mumbled excuse about the bathroom, then fled indoors. Past people putting food on plates from the various bowls in the kitchen. The downstairs door was shut, so he raced upstairs to the master. Shoved the door closed, sat on the floor with his back to the wall, and simply breathed.

In. Out. In. Out.

Steady breathing.

I’m home, I’m safe, everything is fine. No one will hurt me here.

For a while, all Jake did was breathe, and he didn’t understand what the fuck this was all about. He was fine. Safe. Loved. This was fucking stupid!

“Jake?” Taro’s voice, muffled by the door. “Open the door.”

“It’s not locked,” Jake replied, unsure why he’d spoken at all.

Taro came inside and shut the door, his dark eyes so concerned Jake wanted to cry. “You left so suddenly. The others didn’t notice, but you handed Dell the tongs like he knew what to do.”

Jake snorted. “Sorry about that. I just…needed a minute.”

“It’s been almost ten.”

“Fuck.”

Taro squatted in front of Jake. “What happened? Was it Bear and Richard showing up?”

Jake nodded, struggling to keep real tears from rising.

“Because of the club?”

Another nod. “I haven’t told them. I have tried so fucking hard to forget, to tell myself if I couldn’t remember then nothing happened, but I just…I went back there. To the club. All those people. The dancing. It’s no one’s fault but mine.”

“Stop.” Taro shifted to sit by Jake and put a slim arm across his shoulders. “You. Did. Nothing. Wrong. Whatever did or didn’t happen that night is all the fault of the guy who drugged you and the guy who took advantage, and if it’s the same guy then fuck him twice with a rusty cactus. If it was two different guys, then fuck them both the same way. You did not deserve that. Any of it.”

Jake tried to laugh, but it came out a choked bray of fear. “I was a go-go boy.”

“So what? Cris was a porn star for years, so do you think he deserves to be drugged and fondled in a club bathroom by a stranger?”

“No. Fuck no.”

“Then why do you keep trying to excuse what happened to you?”

“Nothing happened.”

“According to Marty and at least two other guys in that bathroom, something happened.”

“Fuck Marty.”

“Hey.” Taro rested his head against Jake’s. “Marty stopped it, Jake. Whatever could have happened, he stopped it.”

Jake released another strangled half-sob, half-groan. “Stop talking about it. Please, stop talking about it.”

“We’ve been not talking about it for a month. Has it gotten better? Keeping this a secret?”

“Yes!” He tore away from Taro and stumbled into the far wall. The impact jarred down his spine, but Jake didn’t cry out. He hurt too much inside for external bruises to mean anything. “I was fine until today. Until fucking Bear and Richard had to be so fucking concerned! Fuck!”

Taro stood slowly, giving Jake space. “I’m going to call Cris to come up here, okay?”

“No.” Jake crowded Taro into the wall, barely registering the stark fear in the older guy’s eyes. “Do not call anyone. Go downstairs. Have a hamburger. Eat potato salad. Leave me alone.”

“I can’t do that. I’ve been silent about this for too long. Enough people already know, Jake. Tell the two who love you the most. Please.”

“It happened to me! How come what I want doesn’t matter?”

Taro’s intense stare softened into something sad. “I thought you said nothing happened, Jake.”

“Fuck you!”

Jake stalked to the bathroom door and yanked it open. He nearly collided with Rick Fowler, whose hand was up and balled into a fist, as if to knock on the door. Jake reared back from the unexpected face. “What are you doing here?”

Rick’s concerned gaze flickered from Jake to Taro and back to Jake. “Vinson and I let ourselves in, and I could hear yelling coming down the stairs. What’s going on? Are you okay, Jake?”

“Fine. Excuse me.” He ducked under Rick’s arm and stormed through the bedroom, uncertain of his exact destination, but he needed away. Away from Taro’s concern, away from Rick’s unwanted interference.

Just…away.

Cris hadn’t thought much of Jake disappearing from the grill beyond a bathroom break, because Jake had been guzzling soda all morning to keep his energy up. Cris had played the dutiful host, moving from cluster of guests to cluster of guests, chatting, greeting, and chumming it up with the handful of clients who’d RSVP-ed. He munched on the food, snaring a chicken skewer off the platter before they were gone, but mostly he talked.

Then he noticed Dell had taken over the grill and it had been a long time since Jake disappeared. Dell wasn’t much of a cook, but he seemed okay handling the last few burgers to come off the heat. Still, where was—

Taro waved at him from the backdoor, his expression so serious Cris’s heart sank. He slowly made his way there from the other side of the yard, forcing himself not to run and make a scene.

Taro yanked him inside, through the kitchen, and downstairs to the studio. Cris wasn’t sure Taro had ever been down here, and his anxiety doubled. “What’s going on?” he asked.

“I am so sorry, Cris, he asked me not to say anything, so I promised him,” Taro replied, an edge of panic in his normally steady voice.

Cris didn’t have to verify he meant Jake. “Promised him what? Not to say anything about what, Taro? What did Jake do?”

“Nothing.” Taro’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “Jake didn’t do anything wrong. I swear.”

“Then what the hell is he hiding?”

“Something happened at Big Dick’s the night you guys were in Georgia. I lost track of him in the club, and I am so sorry I wasn’t paying closer attention.”

Cold fear gripped Cris’s heart as all the possibilities telegraphed through his mind, followed by all the tiny hints. Jake’s odd moods. Wearing sweats on Friday. That flash of fear in his eyes the day after. His general clinginess.

“Fuck.” Cris grabbed Taro’s slim shoulders. “Tell me.”

“Someone at the club slipped a roofie into his drink.”

Cris growled at the idea of someone drugging Jake, of making his boyfriend that vulnerable, and his intense hangover the next day made more sense. Except Taro had apologized for losing track of him. “Oh God.” Cris was seriously going to be sick if he didn’t break something first. “What happened to Jake? Please, tell me.”

Taro closed his eyes briefly and Cris’s heart nearly stopped. When Taro opened his eyes again his lashes were wet. “Some guy dragged Jake into the bathroom with favors.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Frozen fear clashed with white-hot anger, both squeezing his heart too tight. “Where is he?” Cris wanted to know it all, but he needed to hear the rest from Jake.

“I don’t know. He was in the master bathroom, upset, and I tried talking to him. I urged him to talk to you and Chet, but he ran off.”

“Fuck!” He let go of Taro and tore ass back upstairs, mind racing for someplace Jake might go. A quick glance out the door showed both cars still in the driveway, blocked in by one of their guests anyway, so that was no help. Jake wouldn’t leave the house, though, would he? Cris used to run when he had a problem to face, but that wasn’t Jake. Jake knuckled down, dug his heels in, and refused to bend.

He was here somewhere; he had to be.

Too many people were milling around in the kitchen, and Chet’s office was empty, no good hiding places, so Jake had to be on the second floor. Taro met him in the foyer, as miserable as Cris had seen him in months. “Don’t say anything to anyone,” Cris said. “I’ll text you when I find him, but I don’t want to ruin Chet’s day yet. Please?”

“Of course,” Taro replied. “Rick knows something is going on.”

Cris groaned. He liked Rick well enough and had filmed a scene with him before Cris had retired, but he did not need this. “Try to find him and make him can it until I find Jake?”

“I will. I’m so sorry.”

Not wanting to hear it from Taro right now, Cris bolted upstairs. Checked the master first. Bedroom, bathroom and closet all person-free. Jake wasn’t the type, but Cris looked under the bed just in case. Across the hall to Jake’s old room, which was now the second guest room. Empty. Ryan’s room. Empty. That left Cris’s office, the bathroom, and the hall closet.

He couldn’t see Jake hiding in a closet any more than he’d hide under a bed. The idea flashed Cris back to last fall, when Dell and Taro had their first real fight. Dell had come home so upset and disheveled he’d fled from their help. Chet had found Dell cowering in his bedroom closet, and for a few horrible moments, they’d all thought Dell had been assaulted.

Cris would never forget the terror he’d felt for his friend that day.

Close to the terror he felt for Jake right now, and he needed to find his boyfriend. He considered screaming Jake’s name, but that would only draw unwanted attention to them.

Rick scared the shit out of him by exiting his office. “Cris, hey.”

“Have you seen Jake?” Cris asked, not caring he was being rude right now.

“He’s in here.”

“What?” Cris charged down the hall.

“Wait.” Rick physically blocked Cris from getting past him, which was impressive. Rick wasn’t as tall or broad, despite his own muscles. “Take a breath, okay? He’s already terrified.”

“Of what? Me?”

“I’m not sure. I heard him and Taro arguing in your bathroom. I interrupted them and Jake bolted. Taro went to look for him, and then so did I, but I stayed upstairs, hoping to hear Jake moving around. He must have simply hidden in the master, because I watched him sneak down the hall to this room.”

“It’s my office,” Cris said dumbly.

Rick’s expression went briefly fierce. “Why is he so scared? Did you do something?”

“Fuck no. Something happened but he’s been hiding it from us, and I don’t…I need…he’s been hurting and I didn’t see it.”

“Okay. Go. Do you want me to get Chet?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

Cris ignored his promise to text Taro as he approached his office, heart trying to beat right out of his chest. He wanted to vomit, cry, and break something all at once, because he wasn’t going to like what he still didn’t know. The office door was half-open, and Cris slipped inside. Jake sat in his desk chair, curled in on himself, chin resting on his bent knees. Angled toward the desk, giving Cris a view of his stony profile.

Unsure and scared, Cris didn’t approach. He reached for something to say. Anything that wasn’t a direct demand for information. “I don’t think you’ve sat in that chair before.”

Jake’s entire body flinched. “Are you mad at me?”

“No. Not even the tiniest bit, Jake, I swear. I don’t know what specifically is going on, but I am not mad at you. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I lied. Kept things from you guys when I promised I wouldn’t. How can you not be mad at me?”

“Because I love you too much. I don’t care what you lied about. I don’t.” Cris swallowed hard. “Taro told me you were roofied at Big Dick’s.”

Jake covered his face with both hands. Cris’s heart broke for his boyfriend’s pain and for all the things Jake still hadn’t said. The room’s door creaked shut, and Cris didn’t have to look to know Chet was there. Their triad was united, and they’d figure this out.

Together.

“Cristian?” Chet said after several long moments of silence. “Rick told me to come up here but not why. What happened? Jake?”

“I love you,” Cris said to Jake. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing you tell me in this room will change that, Jake. I love you so much.”

Jake trembled.

“I don’t understand.” Chet moved to stand next to Cris and clasped his hand, his handsome face creased with so much fear Cris wanted to sob for both his boyfriends. “What’s going on?”

“Jake, come here.” Cris gently tugged until Jake slithered out of the desk chair and down into Cris’s lap. Cris settled on the floor, doing his best to hold Jake close, protect him from the world. Chet sat beside him and tried to hug them both. Jake pressed his face into Cris’s neck as he trembled, not crying but absolutely upset.

“I lied,” Jake whispered, the soft sound of his voice nearly lost to them both. “I wasn’t just hung over the Friday I picked you up from the airport. I’d been drugged. At the club.”

Chet jerked but didn’t let go. Cris could feel Chet’s eyes on him, staring at him, but Cris stared at the carpet, glad Jake was talking. And horrified by what he still hadn’t said.

“I got so fucking wasted. I have no idea who roofied me, and I don’t remember what happened,” Jake continued. “All I know is what I was told. I am so fucking sorry. I didn’t mean to cheat, I swear.”

“Love, no.” Chet curled a hand around the back of Jake’s head. “Oh Jake. If you were drugged, you are not responsible for what happened, and you certainly didn’t cheat.”

Jake tried to wedge his body closer to Cris’s, as if he could burrow right inside to avoid all the pain he must be feeling. “Chet’s right,” Cris said. He sifted his fingers through Jake’s soft, curly hair before kissing the top of his head. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Yes, I did.” Jake sobbed once. “Another guy kissed me. He touched my dick. Fuck, but he could’ve…he would’ve…fuck!” He broke down then, hot tears splashing Cris’s neck. “Fuck!”

Cris took no comfort in knowing what hadn’t happened, because other things had. A man he loved so goddamn much had been drugged and sexually assaulted, and Jake hadn’t told them for a solid month?! He tried so hard to hold Jake together while he cried, but at some point Cris was crying, and discovering that Chet was too didn’t stop Cris’s own tears at all.

So much raw emotion. So much terror rolling off the quivering younger man in his lap. So much grief from the older man trying so hard to hold them both together.

“I love you,” Cris whispered, over and over. “I love you. I love you both so much. I love you.”

Jake cried harder.

“You beautiful boy,” Chet said, his own voice strangled with tears. “You beautiful, stubborn boy. You’ve carried this for so long.”

“Couldn’t tell you,” Jake gasped. “I fucked up.”

“No, you did not.” Chet gently pulled Jake from Cris’s lap to his own and somehow got Jake to meet his gaze. “You went out with a friend, and you were assaulted. You did not fuck up. You did not cheat. You did not disappoint us. I love you and that won’t change because of something another person did to you, I promise.”

Cris wiped his own eyes, astonished by the depth of love and grief in Chet’s pale eyes as he kept hold of Jake’s, which still leaked fat tears. The pair stared at each other, caught up in some sort of silent conversation Cris was blessed to witness, even though he was unaware of the exact words.

“Tell us why you kept this from us for so long?” Chet asked.

“Taro wanted me to tell you,” Jake replied after a long pause. “But I just…I didn’t remember it. I remember partying, dancing. Then I was sitting at the bar sobering up. Taro and Marty were there, and so were Bear and Richard, and the club was closed.” He was still on Chet’s lap but somehow sagged against Cris’s chest. “Marty said he saw someone leading me into the bathroom, and he knows I’m taken, so he went in to check. Saw the guy kissing me with his hand in my jeans, and Marty pulled him off. But I. Don’t. Remember. Sometimes I think I feel someone’s hand on my dick, but it’s all this weird blur.”

“Just because you don’t remember doesn’t mean it didn’t happen, or that you should ignore it.”

“I know. I needed you both so much, but then you had a son and you didn’t need my drama on top of that.”

“What happened to you isn’t drama, Jake, it’s a trauma. You deserve our love and attention, no matter what else is going on in our lives.”

Jake pressed deeper into Cris’s chest. Cris couldn’t see Jake’s face, but he took comfort in the way Jake seemed to need him. He cinched his arms around Jake’s waist and kissed the side of his neck.

“Did they call the police?” Cris asked.

“Yeah.” Jake snorted. “Fucking useless. No cameras on the bathrooms, and nobody really saw the guy. But the owners told me they put in more security cameras. Hopefully it doesn’t happen again. Big Dick’s is a great place, you know? I don’t want anyone else getting hurt there.”

“I am humbled by the way you’re thinking of other people,” Chet said. “Truly.”

“Bear and Richard helped me last year when I was going to be homeless. I guess seeing them today when I wasn’t expecting them…it brought things back. And then the music and dancing and the strange people…I got overwhelmed. And I ran.”

Cris needed to text Taro that Jake was safe, but he couldn’t seem to let go of his youngest boyfriend. “It’s okay that you got upset,” Cris said. “But Jake, you didn’t trust us with this huge thing.”

“It wasn’t you.” He twisted off Chet’s lap and was suddenly back in Cris’s. “I didn’t trust myself. Didn’t believe in myself. I was so fucking scared to admit what happened to me. I made it all about me when it was really about all three of us. I’d gotten so better at leaning on you guys, and I was already keeping the culinary school thing a secret. I promised Taro I’d tell you, but then Ryan happened, and then the school conversation happened, and I just…convinced myself the…assault didn’t happen.” Jake coughed. “I didn’t remember, so it didn’t happen, and that was wrong.”

“You can’t make trauma go away by ignoring it,” Chet said. “I’ve seen too many young men in various kinds of physical and emotional pain over the years, damaging themselves because they refuse to reach out and ask for help. It took many years in therapy to reconcile my own assaults.”

Cris’s entire body startled. On his lap, Jake went stiff. Chet met their gazes in turn, his expression sad but clear. “It was Philadelphia in the eighties, when drugs ran rampant in clubs and it was easier to look the other way. As much as I come across as having my own shit together now, I very much did not have it together back then and I took risks. Got into one too many dangerous situations before getting my act together.”

“Chet,” Jake said on a gasp.

“It’s okay, love. Those experiences are part of my very ancient past that I don’t think about anymore. I also hadn’t moved to Los Angeles yet, and I didn’t have my biological family to lean on, so I dealt with things alone. You don’t have to do that, Jake. You have so many people who love you, and I am forever grateful to Marty for intervening at the club when he did. Not everyone would have.”

“So am I,” Cris added, pressing another kiss to Jake’s hair. “Grateful, I mean.” Hell, he’d pay for Marty’s drinks at Big Dick’s for the rest of their lives as thanks. When he thought about how much worse it could have been, what that faceless creep could have done to Jake while he was so wasted…rage. Blinding, white-hot rage.

“Me too,” Jake said. “I never really thanked him, I don’t think. I mean, yeah, whatever I said that night. Morning? I just remember being so embarrassed and all I wanted to do was come home and shower.”

“I hate that the asshole got away with it.”

“All we can do is hope karma deals with him,” Chet said.

“Uh, I don’t want to go back downstairs.” Jake went limp in Cris’s arms. “My head hurts.”

“I imagine it does. Go take some aspirin and lay down for a while. We’ll make your excuses to our guests.”

“Yeah, rest.” Cris helped Jake stand, and once Cris was on his own two feet, he let his inner caveman take over. He scooped Jake up into his arms, a gentler hold than his usual fireman’s carry, because this wasn’t about play. It was about love and support.

In their room, Jake curled around a pillow and closed his eyes. Cris watched him for a moment, uncertain about leaving him alone, until Chet gently tugged him out of the bedroom. In the hall, Chet swept him into a firm hug that Cris returned in kind. Cris hugged Chet, not only for their shared pain over Jake, but also for the new bits of Chet’s past he’d shared today. A past he’d put to rest and left behind in Philadelphia decades ago, but that would never fully go away.

“If you ever want to talk about it,” Cris whispered.

“I know, love.” Chet nuzzled his cheek with his nose. “I know.”