Chance was waiting for Low as Dax pulled up in front of his house.

“Shit.”

Dax followed his gaze. “That’s you?” He jerked his chin toward Chance sitting on his porch steps.

Low nodded. “Yeah, that’s—” He cleared his throat. “That’s Chance.”

“You fucking him?”

“How is that your business?” Jesus, between Dax and goddamn Renzo, Low couldn’t decide which one of them was pluckier.

Dax grunted. “Just make sure no one knows about Renzo.”

“Right.” Low rolled his eyes. “Because the first thing I want to do is let people know I helped save the life of the man who got my cousin killed.” Shit. He scrubbed his palms on his jean-clad thighs, hoping to wipe away the past hours. Wasn’t happening, but nothing beat a fail more than a try. Right?

Next to him, Dax made a disgusted sound.

Low glanced at him and found the big guy staring back at him with narrowed eyes. “What?”

“Do you even know what you’re talking about?”

Of course he’d be on Renzo’s side. Still, that defense grated on Low’s nerve. “I’m talking about my cousin being dead,” he snapped. “I’m talking about him working for Renzo.” He unbuckled his seatbelt. “Yes, I know what I’m talking about.” He moved to open the door, but Dax gripped his arm, halting his exit.

“You don’t know shit.” Dax’s growl would’ve scared him, but now Low knew that big man wouldn’t hurt him. So he yanked himself away and twisted to face Dax.

“Yeah? So tell me.” Men like Renzo Vega always had an excuse, a story at the ready. He couldn’t wait to see how Dax would spin Low’s accusation.

Dax didn’t. All he did was release Low with a slight tightening of his mouth. “Some truths aren’t meant to be told,” he murmured. “Go.” He motioned without looking at Low. “Handle your shit, but let me make one thing clear. Renzo wants to fuck you, I don’t. You do anything to hurt him and I’ll reciprocate.” His mouth curved into something impersonating a smile. “Neither of us wants that.”

Low didn’t doubt him for a second, but something told him he should be more afraid than he actually was. “Watch him.” He cleared his throat, giving Dax instructions on caring for Renzo. “Feed him the broth, liquids only, and make sure he takes the medication.”

Dax nodded, gaze flicking back to Chance who’d gotten to his feet and was staring at them. So yeah, that’s something Low would have to explain.

“See you later,” Dax said.

Low exited the vehicle and slammed the door behind as he walked up the driveway to Chance.

“What are you doing here?” Chance didn’t usually come to his place. Because Low didn’t feel comfortable with it. A few years back, he’d picked up a guy in Clarkston at the Refugee Coffee Truck and brought him back to his place. His brother Andy showed up unannounced, and Low had experienced one of the lowest moments of his life, stuffing the poor guy inside his bathroom and locking him in.

Funny now, he couldn’t even remember the guy’s name. Or if the sex had been worth it.

“You haven’t been answering your phone and I wanted to see you.” Chance’s eyes followed Dax’s taillights as they disappeared down the street. “Who was that?” He looked Low up and down.

“Come on.” He led Chance into the house and onto the couch.

He startled when Chance touched his hand, linking their fingers. Low stared down at them, at the place where they touched. After kissing Renzo that night at the club, he’d distanced himself from Chance, but they hadn’t had the conversation. They should, because it wasn’t ever fair to stay dealing with someone when you wanted to be with somebody else. When you wanted to kiss someone else.

He remembered touching Renzo. The smooth warmth of his skin. The sticky red of his blood. The heat that never seemed to burn out from his eyes when he looked at Low, even with bullet holes in his body.

“I’m sorry,” Chance said. “I shouldn’t have come. I—”

“Don’t.” Low shook his head. “Don’t apologize.”

“Yes, but I agreed to this. I knew the boundaries when we started this.” Chance. Always so fair. So good. The better guy. The better option. “It’s not fair to you for me to be trying to change the rules of the game now.”

“But you should. You deserve better.” Low was the unfair one. He had no business doing this, trying to force Chance into the closet with him. He tightened his grip on Chance’s fingers then released him quickly, pulling away and sitting back. “Chance, you deserve someone willing to be with you.”

“What? No.” Chance tried to touch his hand again, but Low moved out of his grasp. Chance gaped at him. “Low?”

He’d been more than flattered when Chance approached him. A doctor, for God’s sake. Chance was an awesome guy. Gorgeous, smart, attentive. Everything Low should want. Everything he should be doing his best to grab on to. But now he was finally understanding that Chance was easy. He made no waves, choosing to go with the flow. While that should be admired, it did nothing for Low.

He didn’t sweat when he saw Chance. He didn’t hurt and ache and hate himself.

Let me hit it while you call me Daddy.

He cleared his throat.

We are wanting. We are on fire, and we are thirsty…

“I’m the one who’s sorry.” Kenton had just died when Chance asked him out, and he’d needed to feel as if he belonged somewhere. Needed to feel wanted. “We never should have started this.”

Chance blinked at him. “You—Are we breaking up?”

Low touched him then, taking Chance’s hand in his and leaning forward to press his lips to Chance’s knuckles as Chance regarded him with shocked confusion in his blue eyes. Low felt the same. He hadn’t intended to do this. But it was right, for so many reasons. He was ashamed of the way he’d treated Chance. That man deserved so fucking much better.

“Low.”

“Yes.” He breathed out the word. “Yes, we’re breaking up. I’m sorry.”

Chance’s mouth opened and closed, eyes bulging. “You pull me into the closet with you, keep me your dirty fucking secret, and I accept it, because I like you. Now what?” He shoved agitated fingers through his dark-blond hair. “Now, you just toss me aside and walk away like it’s nothing?”

Those words hurt, but only because they were true. So fucking true. Shame had Low lowering his gaze. “I’m sorry.”

Chance snorted. “Yeah, I bet you are. Was it that guy?” When Low met his glare, Chance waved a hand. “The one who dropped you off?”

“No.” Low shook his head. “No, he has nothing to do with it.”

But Renzo did, he couldn’t lie to himself. He had to figure out what the hell was happening to him and what he was going to do about it. Quickly.

Chance got to his feet and picked up his car keys.

Low reached for him, then pulled back without touching him. “Chance, I’m sorry.” The wounded anger on Chance’s face gutted him, but he deserved it. He deserved worse, so he kept his silence and watched as Chance let himself out, the door slamming behind him.

Low pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes closing briefly before he picked up his phone and messaged his sister via WhatsApp.

LOW: Sissylicious.

Ronna: Who goes there?

Immediately she made him smile. He couldn’t lose this. He couldn’t let his truth take this away. What u doin?

Ronna: None. Wassup?

LOW: None. Missing my favorite sister.

Ronna: Hmm

Sad

I thought Michelle was you favorite when she made you the Oil Down the last time?

LOW: Must we go back to the past? Eh? And if you made me the black cake like you promised, we wouldn’t be discussing this.

Ronna: Uh huh. Whatever boy.

LOW: That is all I saying. Now tell your favorite brother you love him.

Ronna: You is not me favorite. Andy is me favorite.

LOW: Lies.

Ronna: You wish.

LOW: Sad. Loves u.

Ronna: Luv u, not-favorite bother.

LOW: HAHA.

As he got up from the couch, the phone in his hand went off. At first he thought it was Ronna calling, but once he saw the caller’s identity he groaned.

“Yeah, Mommy.”

“Lowell. Like you forget you have a mother, ah wah?”

Jesus. He strode to the kitchen, immediately opening the fridge. Damn it. He didn’t even have any liquor anywhere in the house. Dealing with his mother required some form of self-medication. “How are you doing, Mommy?”

“I dey. I wanted to see how you doing,” she said. “I was supposed to call you long, but I got busy.”

Only his mother. “Okay. Well, thanks. I’m fine.”

“So, how things going with the new venture?”

She’d questioned his judgement after he decided to quit working as an EMT. He’d been doing the landlord thing for a while after using his portion of the life insurance money he’d received after his father’s death, along with a loan from his mother, to buy a condo in Stone Mountain. The place was now rented out, everything handled by a property management company. He’d then talked his brother into coming in with him to do the same thing, and now he and his brother owned a condo in Sandy Springs that they also rented out. He was thinking of going all in on that now, much to his mother’s dismay. He’d long paid back the loan, but she still wasn’t fully onboard with his decision.

“Everything going good.” He stood with his back against the kitchen counter, staring at nothing. They were strangers. He couldn’t connect with her. She was his mother, but he’d always felt closer to his now-dead father than to her.

“And how is everything else?”

“Why you calling me, Mommy?” Had someone put her up to it? Someone like—“Did Tanty Ellen tell you to call me?”

“What you mean?” Somehow she managed to sound offended at that. “You is me child. Nobody have to tell me to call you, you know.”

“Yeah, but you don’t call me. So why now?”

“I’ve been busy, but I wanted to call and see if you okay,” she said softly.

“Okay.” He nodded. “Well, like I said, I good. School is good. Everything is good.”

Silenced weighed between them until his mother said, “All right then. Talk to you later.” And just like she was gone.

He stood there with the phone in his palm, staring down at it as though expecting it to start spouting his mother’s secrets. He wanted to know who she was. Why she left him and the rest of his siblings with their grandmother. Why she brought Grantley into their lives. Why she never tried to be more of a parent with any of them. Shit, she was barely an acquaintance, passing through their lives.

What would she say, how would she react, if she knew her youngest son was gay? He wanted to know that, too.