Now the moment had arrived, I was much more terrified than I’d expected. I’d envisioned it countless times over the years.

The past hours had revealed many things to me. The pinnacle of which was that I’d been a fucking idiot. And Connor had been right all along. There had been reason to worry. There had been reason to keep it secret.

I’d still suggested we should tell everyone at once. Connor insisted that was the quickest road to disaster I could’ve come up with. And, for once, I listened to him. It seemed there were things about our family he understood that I didn’t. Maybe just about people in general. And that maybe, as wonderful as our family was, at the end of the day, they were just people.

Mom and Dad sat across the dining room table from us, both nervous, clearly knowing something was about to be dropped in their laps. I couldn’t help but sense a huge loss. I hadn’t realized how much I’d wanted that fantasy moment, to share with those I loved most about the man I was going to spend my life with and have them rejoice. But the reality was very different. Somewhere, outside the walls, Moses was with his horrid family, Walden was worrying about his father, Gilbert was probably on a plane, but even if he wasn’t, he wasn’t returning my calls. The Kellys and my sisters had no idea this conversation was happening, though they would soon enough.

Connor cleared his throat, and I glanced at him. Beads of sweat glistened on his forehead.

Only one thing turned out exactly how I’d hoped. Connor was by my side. And we were telling my family, our family.

In the moment when all of Connor’s fears had been realized, when the endless warnings he’d given me for years had come to fruition, Connor had chosen me. At the only time in our history where I would’ve walked away from him, and white-knuckled it to make it last, he’d refused to let me go. And he had chosen to face whatever came our way because of that decision.

That assurance was better than any fantasy. No matter what came next.

“Is one of you sick?” As she spoke, Mom reached out and took Dad’s hand, as if needing something to hang on to.

“No, Mom. No one is sick.” That wasn’t true. “Well, you did hear about Walden’s dad, right?”

Mom nodded. “Yes. Just awful. We spoke to Gilbert as he waited to board his plane in San Francisco. He sounded horrible. Just horrible.”

If only that had only been about Walden’s dad. “Yeah, it is awful.”

Silence fell. And I glanced at Connor once more. His gaze was fixed on our parents’ hands.

“What’s going on, boys?” Dad’s voice was firm but not unkind. “Obviously something is up. Whatever it is, just get it over with. Your mother and I can handle it.”

In my fantasy, I’d even had a speech prepared about Connor and me. But now, I didn’t have any words. I was terrified. I’d always wondered whether Dad would have a problem with it, at least a little, with all his concerns about founding families, but Connor had said he was more worried about Mom. Considering he’d been right about Gilbert when I never would’ve predicted Gilbert’s disgusted reaction, I couldn’t bring myself to say words that would hurt her. That would cause her to see me differently.

As if reading my thoughts, Connor turned and looked at me, met my gaze. His eyebrow cocked, just slightly. But I knew exactly what he meant. What he was asking. Making sure I truly wanted to do this. That I was willing to pay the price. Making sure that I wanted him.

That… I did know. It was the only thing I knew.

I nodded.

Connor gave the slightest nod of his own and then faced our parents. “Mom, Dad….” He winced. “Patrick, Regina, we have something to tell you, and we’re not really sure how you’ll feel, but we want you to know that we love you.” He winced again. “I want you to know that I love you. That there’s not a minute that goes by that I’m not grateful for you welcoming me into your home, and to your family.”

At the twin expressions of hurt that crossed Mom’s and Dad’s faces as Connor called them by their first names, I wondered if he’d made a mistake, though I understood why he made the change. I started to jump in, to rescue Connor, to try to make this easier on him, but I couldn’t find the words.

Connor took a breath. “I’m just going to say it, rip off the Band-Aid. Then I’ll answer anything you want, either of us will.” He looked down at the table and then seemed to force himself to look back up, meeting our parents’ faces. “Micah and I are together. We’re… I love him. We’re in love.”

Mom and Dad were always so different. Dad serious and Mom wild and free. But here, they were in sync. Both their mouths fell open, the color draining from their faces.

Connor continued, “I know this may be hard to hear, or hard to understand. But I want to make clear that this hasn’t been an easy road for Micah or myself. That we’re not jumping into this lightly or trying to cause drama or hurt.”

I had to say something. I couldn’t ask him to do it all. “I’ve loved him for as long as I can remember. He’s the only man I’ve ever truly loved.”

Bafflement left Mom’s and Dad’s expressions, turning to… something akin to revulsion? Shock?

“Mom….” Connor gave a little shake of his head. “I want to make clear it wasn’t something that happened when I moved in. I never took advantage of the… of your family. Of Micah.”

“But… you’re….” Mom’s gaze flitted back and forth between the two of us. “You’re brothers. It doesn’t matter when it started. You’re brothers.”

“No, Regina. They’re not.” Dad’s voice was hard. Not in a way I’d heard before. Not exactly angry or sad. Just hard. Cold. “They are not brothers.”

“Yes.” She pulled her hand from his, casting a glare at him that looked like she was just as shocked by him as she by us. “Yes. They are. They are my children. And they are brothers.”

Dad ignored her, focusing on Connor, his coldness deepening. “When did it start?”

Connor’s lips moved, and I knew what he was about to say, about how it would sound.

“I let Connor know how I felt when he came back from college….” I quickly realized that didn’t narrow it down enough. “I was almost seventeen. He rejected me.” I looked at Mom, needing her to understand. “He told me that we were brothers. That this was wrong. I didn’t… convince him my feelings were real for a long time. And he’s fought it ever since.”

Impossibly her eyes widened further. “That’s why. It wasn’t about farming. It was Connor.”

Beside me, Connor’s shoulders slumped.

“No, Mom. That’s part of why Connor refused to be with me for so long. Not just because of our family, but because he insisted he wasn’t going to keep me from my dreams.”

A tear rolled down her cheek, and she glared at Connor. “How could you? How could you?” She swiped a hand in my direction. “He’s my baby. My boy.”

Connor flinched and made a noise like he was trying to keep his own tears at bay.

Confusion crossed Mom’s face and some of the anger left. “You’re both my boys.” Tears started to flow freely then. “You’re both my babies. How could…?” Her words cut off as she stood, the chair scraping across the wood floor, and she rushed from the room. Her pounding footsteps echoed from the stairs and then above our heads, and her muffled sobs filled the silence.

I stood, ready to run after her, but Dad’s words held me in place.

“Connor, wait outside.”

Without hesitation, Connor stood and began to head toward the door between the dining room and kitchen leading to the backyard.

“Dad!” I couldn’t believe he was making Connor leave, like a bad child or animal. Like a stranger. “You can’t—”

“Micah, be still.” Dad slapped the table.

Connor returned long enough to squeeze my shoulder, the first time he’d touched me since we’d walked through the door. It wasn’t a quick touch. Firm, strong, and long enough to make clear to both Dad and myself that we were together on this. “I’ll be fine. Talk to Dad.” And then he was gone.

I couldn’t remember ever being so angry at my father. “How could you? How can you treat Connor like—”

“Be quiet, Micah. Let me think.”

Fury raged like I’d never thought I could feel. “I’m not a child, Dad. You don’t get to tell me to be quiet. I’m—”

“I said be still, goddammit.” He pounded the table again. “You don’t get to drop something like this in my lap and then make demands. So shut up and let me think.”

Despite my insistence that I wasn’t a child, I sank back in the chair and couldn’t have found words if I’d had a gun to my head. Dad had never cursed in front of me. He’d never told me to shut up. Never told any of us to shut up.

After a few seconds, Dad stood and began to pace, casting glances overhead, where Mom’s crying had lessened but could still be heard. He wandered into the living room, and was gone long enough to make me wonder if he was going to return. I glanced toward the back door and saw Connor’s silhouette pass in front of the window. Seemed like pacing was the thing to do.

Dad reentered with a glass of bourbon and took his seat once more. After a sip, he leveled his stare at me, his tone had returned to calm. Calm and cold. “I don’t care what you think my reaction will be. I’m going to ask you a question. You are going to be honest. I’ll know if you’re lying, Micah Edward Bryant, I can promise you that. So do not lie.”

I nodded. Easy enough. There was nothing to lie about. Not anymore.

“When did it start with you and Connor? And don’t sugarcoat. Be specific.”

I nearly asked if he was sure he wanted me to be specific, but then realized I didn’t care if it made him uncomfortable. If it made me uncomfortable. “I snuck into Connor’s bed when he came home from college. I was sixteen. Almost seventeen. He was twenty.” I leveled my gaze back at him, matched his tone. “I tried to get him to sleep with me that night. And it wasn’t about sex for me, at least not entirely. I was already in love with him. Connor nearly came unglued. Kicked me out of his room, told me we were brothers. Told me that it was wrong. Broke my heart. He would barely look at me for years.”

Though Dad had winced and shifted uncomfortably at a couple of places in my story, he didn’t look away, didn’t weaken. He narrowed his eyes, studying me, searching. After a long excruciating time—I didn’t think I’d ever met my father’s gaze for that long, or anyone else’s for that matter—he sat back. “Good.”

Good? Just good? I supposed it was better than a million other things he could’ve said. “If you’re worried about this causing drama because we’re a founding fam—”

The anger that crossed his face again cut me off. “Of all the things you could suggest, there’s nothing that could hurt me more. As if there is anything more important to me than you, than any of my children. Founding family or not. You are all that matters.” His gaze darted to the window, to where Connor still paced, and sorrow replaced the anger. “Family is all that matters in the end.”

“What are you going to do?”

He looked back at me and blinked. “What do you mean? Do I have options that no one told me about?”

Didn’t he? “Are you going to forbid us being together?”

“Didn’t you just tell me you weren’t a child? Do I look like such a fool to you that I would think I could demand such a thing and not lose you both?”

Lose us both.

Though it wasn’t like any fantasy moment, not even close to being pleasant, I knew with those three words that my family would live up to the expectations I’d had all along. “I’m sorry I doubted you.”

“This won’t be easy. For anyone. And it will take time.” Dad didn’t stand or start to take my hand, but some softness returned to his tone. “You and Connor have had years to come to terms with this, and it sounds like it wasn’t easy. Give your family the same consideration.”

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.

“Go be with your mom. She needs you.” He stood. “I’ll get Connor.”

“Dad, be nice to him. Please. It wasn’t—”

His eyes flashed. “Don’t you dare tell me how to speak to one of my children, Micah.” He motioned upstairs. “Go help your mom.”

When I knocked, she didn’t answer. A quick test of the handle showed that the door wasn’t locked. I poked my head in. “Mom?”

She was kneeling beside the bed, and if I didn’t know better, I would’ve said she was praying.

Maybe she was.

She looked over at me, eyes bloodshot, mascara running down her cheeks. I wasn’t sure if she was going to tell me to go away or yell. Instead she buried her face in her hands and cried harder.

I hurried to her side and wrapped my arms around her as she shook. After a few moments, she shifted, throwing her arms around me, her sobs increasing.

Neither of us spoke, and I doubted she was even capable of words with as hard as she was crying. I simply held her, trying to figure out what to say. I understood Dad’s reaction, even if I didn’t like it. I couldn’t comprehend Mom’s.

Finally, her sobs slowed, and she sniffed. She got up, knees cracking as she stood and walked to the restroom.

I heard her blow her nose, as she turned on the water in the sink. I sat on the edge of the bed and waited, trying to figure out what to say to make it better.

When she walked back into the room, her eyes were still bloodshot and looked on the edge of fresh tears, but her face was clean, the streaks of mascara gone. She sat on the bed, close to me, and sighed shakily. Like she was beyond exhausted.

“Mom.” My whisper was so quiet I wasn’t sure she’d be able to hear me, even as close as we were. I simply couldn’t make myself speak any louder in the stillness of the room, fearing it might make the world crumble. “I promise Connor never did anything wrong. Ever. He wouldn’t—”

“I know that.” She turned toward me, a horrified expression on her face. Similar to the one she’d had at the table, but different somehow. “Connor would never do such a thing.”

Good. That was good. Very good. “Then, what’s the problem? Why are you hurting?”

She made a sound that was part laugh, part disgust, and rolled her eyes. “You are so sweet and sensitive and kind. You always have been. But, you’re still a man, and so definitely not a mother.”

I had no clue what to do with that. “Yeah. I guess that’s true.”

She sighed again and shook her head.

“I love him, Mom.”

She nodded. “I know.” She wiped her eyes. “I think that’s part of it. I feel like a fool. Looking back, I can see that. I always knew you loved him, but I just thought… he’s your brother. I thought it was simply hero worship or something.”

That was there too, no doubt. Probably wasn’t a good idea to say. Not that I had any clue what to say at that point. “I’m sorry you’re hurting. I wish I could fix it.”

“You can’t, baby.” Mom patted my knee, started to pull her hand back, then left it there.

I knew I shouldn’t ask, shouldn’t press, but I couldn’t keep from it. “I don’t understand why you’re hurting, Mom. If you know Connor never did anything wrong with me, if you know I love him, then….”

“You’re my children, both of you.” She blinked, maybe searching for words, then settled for a shrug. “I can’t ask you to understand. I doubt you could. In many ways, as much as your father loves Connor, counts him as one of ours, I doubt even he could understand, not fully. I can’t explain it to you.”

Again, I had no idea what else to say. “Okay.”

Her voice brightened suddenly and she looked back at me, sitting a little straighter. “Maybe Connor could open a tattoo shop in New York. You could still have your dreams.”

I normally would’ve been irritated that she still didn’t get it, but I wished I could give her a different answer. Offer some comfort when she needed it. “Mom, like I’ve said. I’m living my dreams already. There and here. Even if Connor had never been in the picture, this is still what I want. Though, I’d give them both up for him, if I had to.”

The defeated expression in her eyes made me think she’d finally given up about me rejecting farming and returning to New York City. “If he loves you like you say, then he’d never ask you give up your dreams.”

“He didn’t.”

“I know. I wasn’t saying he did. Just that, true love doesn’t come at the cost of your passions. It should support them.”

“He’s giving up a lot for me.” The truth of that statement cut deep. “At least he’s lost a lot for me.”

She squeezed my knee. “He’s not going to lose us, baby. Ever.”

“I know.” I’d always known that. One more thing I’d been right about in my debates with Connor, even if I’d been wrong on nearly everything else. “But he lost Moses. I don’t know if he’ll ever be able to get over that.”

Again she straightened, and this time when she looked at me, her eyes flashed. “What do you mean he lost Moses?”