Noel trudged up the stairs on Sunday morning, exhausted from a long night tending to an accident scene just outside of town. Drunk driver swerved off the road—“I saw a fox dart into the street, I swear”—through a wood fence, and straight into the side of a gas station. The asshole was lucky he hadn’t struck the pumps.

No one had been hurt, thank God. The driver—and Noel had taken no pleasure in arresting Charlie Hogan—had a few bumps and a bruise from the seat belt. Most of the damage was to his car and the station wall. According to his license, Charlie was still only twenty and he hadn’t been very forthcoming about where he’d gotten the alcohol.

Oh well. It was up to Detective Kramer to put all that together.

Noel’s phone rang. Jason. He’d gotten his number a few days ago from Shane, just in case. Seeing it on his phone at quarter to eight in the morning raised his hackles. “This is Noel.”

“Hey, it’s Jason. Have you seen Jo?” The stark fear in Jason’s voice was impossible to miss.

“Not since Friday night, why? What happened?”

“We had a pretty big fight last night, and I couldn’t sleep well after it, so I got up early and when I went to check on him, his bed was empty. His car’s gone too.”

Noel reached the top of the stairs and turned into his hallway. “Where would—?” The lump hunched near his door made him stop. “Don’t worry, he parked himself outside of my place.”

“Thank Christ.”

“Can I call you back?”

“Yes. Soon. Please?”

“Okay.” He shoved the phone in his pocket, then knelt next to Shane.

Shane had his arms wrapped tight around his knees, his forehead against them, head down. Shivering, even though the hall was warm and humid. He had something clutched in one hand, but Noel couldn’t see what it was.

“Hey, Shane? It’s me.”

He shuddered, then raised his head. His eyes were spider-veined and puffy, his face flushed. Misery wafted from him like a fog, thick and encompassing. Fear wrapped itself around Noel in a stifling embrace.

“Talk to me, cowboy, what’s wrong?”

Shane didn’t reply. Truly unsettled now, Noel unlocked his room, then hauled Shane to his feet. He didn’t protest, and the thing in his hand rattled. He moved like a zombie, slow and shuffling, allowing Noel to plant him on his bed. Noel locked his door, stowed his gun away, then dragged a chair over to sit in front of Shane.

“Is this about the fight you had with Jason last night?” Noel asked.

Shane’s eyes flickered up, but didn’t quite meet his.

Okay, new tactic. He carefully drew the object-clutching hand away from Shane’s lap. Shane didn’t resist him prying his fingers back. He plucked a prescription bottle from his palm, and Noel’s insides seized. He didn’t recognize the brand name, but Shane had mentioned once he had pills to help him sleep.

“Shane, did you take any of these?” A slow sideways headshake calmed some of his racing fear. Some. “Did you want to?”

Shane folded in on himself, shaking. Noel shifted to the bed and gathered him up in his arms, holding him as best he could. So many things raced through his mind, but nothing made any sense. What could have pushed Shane into thinking about swallowing a bottle of pills? What the hell had he and Jason been fighting about to lead here?

“Please talk to me, Shane. Please.”

“Don’t want you to hate me.” So tentative, broken, like a beaten child whose trust in the world is lost.

“I don’t hate you, babe, I swear. Not for this.”

“Wanted it to stop.”

“Wanted what to stop?”

“All of it. I wreck everything. Gonna wreck us too.”

“Why do you think that?”

“It wrecked me and Jason.”

Noel sifted his fingers through Shane’s hair, desperate to get into his head and find the answers to his racing thoughts and questions. “What did?”

“Me. My stupid fucking bill from my stupid fucking suicide attempt. If I’d died, he’d have been free of me a long time ago.”

Noel’s heart tripped. “He wouldn’t have wanted that. Jason loves you. It’s impossible not to see when you two are together.”

“It was my fucking bill. I found a way to pay it so Jason wouldn’t have another heart attack and leave me all alone.”

Noel turned that one over in his head. “You found a way to pay off your debt?”

“Yeah. It’s banked. Once the last check clears, we write our check and it’s done.”

“I don’t understand.” He tugged Shane back far enough to see his face. To see his miserable, shame-filled face. “He’s mad you paid off your own debt?”

“He hates how. Fuck, I hate how, but it was my choice.”

Distant alarm bells hinted that Noel wasn’t going to like the answer to his next question. He swallowed, mouth dry. Heart racing. “Shane, how did you earn the money?”

Shane was so resigned he didn’t seem real. Like a washed-out version of himself. A ghost. He shrank a little bit more. “Porn.”

Noel blinked, the word not quite sinking in. “What do you mean porn?”

“Gay porn. Six movies. Yesterday paid off the debt, so I put Colby in a box and quit for good, and I was going to tell Jason but he found out first, and I was going to tell you today before we went to dinner, but I figured I might as well rip off the fucking bandage and get it over with.”

The word vomit took a moment to translate into actual information. Emotions hammered Noel from all sides: concern, fear, alarm, disgust, anger, betrayal, grief. They buffeted him, making it impossible to think. To digest the huge bombshell that had obliterated everything he believed true about their relationship.

Shane scooted away, to the far side of the bed, and wrapped his arms around his middle, hunched over like he wanted to throw up. Noel stared at him, unable to process this. Other men had been with Shane while they were together, and Shane hadn’t said anything.

“It was a pro set, everyone was safe,” Shane said, as though reading his thoughts. “Everyone is tested regularly. The models use condoms, and I never swallowed.”

Models. Fancy name for a gutter job.

“It’s also the real reason I didn’t want to be exclusive right away. I couldn’t do that to you, make a promise and keep doing the porn.”

Anger flared bright. “You said you didn’t want to be with anyone else.”

“I don’t. I don’t want to date anyone else, or make love to anyone else, or watch fireworks with anyone else. I swear. I didn’t want any of those guys. Porn sex isn’t real. Not like we’re real.”

“It’s still sex, Shane.”

“I know.” He made a gasping noise. “And I hated every minute I was on that set. Hated that I had driven myself to that point, and that I was betraying your trust in me by not telling you what I was doing and why. And I’m sorry for hurting you. I need you to know the one thing I regret the most is hurting you.”

Everything about Shane’s tone and posture spoke to the utter truth in those words, and it broke Noel’s heart. “You can’t legally film porn in Pennsylvania. It’s considered prostitution.”

“I know. The owner is careful. I wouldn’t have worked for him if I thought he was shady.”

“Shady? He’s filming porn illegally.” Noel didn’t know if he should be angry at the risk Shane had taken by getting into business with this unnamed guy, or horrified he’d done the porn at all. So he let himself be both. “If you’d ever been busted, you could have gone to jail.”

“I thought about that every time I went over there.”

“And you still went? You put yourself at risk over and over?”

“I did it for Jason. So we could both breathe again. I knew that once the debt was paid, none of it mattered. Even if you turned me in, Jason would be okay.”

Noel startled. “Turned you in? You think I’m going to turn you in?”

“You’re a cop, Noel. You made that perfectly clear after I told you about Olivia’s party.”

“This is not the same thing. Not even close.” Noel’s skin prickled with anger. “I told you why that had to be reported. This is different.”

“Really?” A bit of challenge rose in Shane’s voice. “I told you I participated in criminal activity. Aren’t you obligated as an officer of the law to report me?”

His own words tossed back in his face with finesse. Only this was bait, and he wasn’t biting. “Is that what you want? Me to turn you in, so you go to jail, and prove what a horrible human being you are? To break us up for good, even though you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me? To take you away from Jason just when you have time to enjoy each other again? To let Thom win for starting this whole shitstorm when you were ten years old and helpless to stop him?”

“I have fucked up my entire life,” Shane snarled. “I don’t deserve you, and I don’t deserve Jason. I belong in prison. Jason never should have been there.”

“No, he shouldn’t have. But you can’t change that by self-destructing. It will only hurt me, and it will only hurt Jason.”

Shane glared, some of his desolation turning into anger. “How can you look at me? I can’t even look at myself. Not for weeks.”

“I can look at you because I’ve seen your heart. You have so much love to share, and you’ve been hurt so much. And you’ve hurt yourself enough for a lifetime. Please, stop hurting yourself.”

He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. “I don’t know how.”

“Stop assuming the worst will always happen.”

“Even though it does?”

“Is it right now?”

Shane dropped his hands. “Isn’t it?”

“Have I demanded you get out and leave me alone? Have I called you horrible names? Have I done anything except ask questions and try to understand?”

He narrowed his eyes. “No.”

“I almost lost you last week, babe, and I hated every moment of it. Maybe we haven’t known each other all that long, but we have a connection that I have never had with a guy before. I am so scared of losing you again.” Noel paused to collect his thoughts. “Am I okay with the porn? No. I hate that you did it, but I’m not dumping you for it. We’ll work through this, figure it out. Your feelings, my feelings, where we go from here. That’s what mature adults do.”

They were both young, but they were grownups. Too old to let the impulsiveness of youth define their actions. Too old not to take responsibility and own the things they did wrong. Too old to let go of something potentially amazing out of anger or spite.

“I swear I’m done with porn,” Shane said. “I know it never quits you, because the Internet is forever, but I don’t want to do it again. I promise you I won’t.”

“I believe you.”

“This wasn’t my only time.”

Noel’s gut rolled, unsettled by the barrage of truth coming from Shane today. “Okay.”

“When I was twenty, I was out clubbing and a guy asked if I’d ever modeled. He got me an appointment with this guy he knew named Chet. He paid me five hundred dollars to masturbate on video with this other twink. I figured it was one and done, but I had to sign a contract, and I didn’t read the fine print. It required me to perform in two more videos of the director’s choosing, and since I was young and stupid and didn’t realize that Chet would be an idiot to take me to court over breaking it, I did them. I hated it, but I did them, and then I walked away.”

“Until Jason got sick.”

“Yeah.”

“So you and Jason fought last night over this?”

“Yeah. I thought he’d be mad, you know? Anger I could deal with, but he was heartbroken, Noel. I hurt him so badly by trying to help, and I knew I’d hurt you too, and I wanted it to stop.” His gaze flittered to the bottle of pills on the bed between them. “I even had them in my hand, but I couldn’t do it.”

“What stopped you?”

“I didn’t want Jason calling 9-1-1 and you finding me like that.”

Noel’s eyes prickled.

“When I was fifteen I didn’t have anyone to tell me it would get better,” Shane continued. “Or that being gay was normal, and that I wasn’t sick, so I went through with the attempt. Last night, all I could think about was you. If you hadn’t been in my life these last two months, I don’t think I could have gotten through all of this intact.”

Noel wasn’t sure Shane was intact at all. He seemed to be keeping it together with spit and chewing gum, and Noel was helpless to fix it. He needed time to process everything Shane had told him. To understand his own feelings before he could deal with Shane’s.

He also couldn’t shove Shane out the door and demand to be left alone. He wasn’t that guy.

“I’m glad you came here,” Noel said. “And so glad you didn’t take the pills. A lot of people care about you, Shane, probably more than you realize. And I’m not breaking up with you, but I’m not really sure how to move forward from this.”

“Me either.”

They both went silent. Noel studied the bedspread, as if the answer to everything were hidden in its threads. He wanted to be alone to think, but he wanted Shane near him. He despised the idea of other men touching Shane in a sexual way, but he understood how Shane had separated it from the sex they had together. He wanted to be okay with it, to see it as just another job, but he wasn’t sure he could.

“What happened with Tristan the other night?” Shane asked, breaking the awkward silence.

“He went out to Big Dick’s by himself.”

“What? Is he okay?”

“I think so. We talked yesterday, and I spoke with his therapist briefly. I guess he’s been realizing more and more how lonely he is, and how much he misses having someone. He thought he could manage Big Dick’s alone, but at some point he lost his notebook, and then he forgot where he was and why, and it became a whole scene. The owner called me. I had to leave in the middle of my shift to go get him.”

“Christ, he must have been terrified.”

“He was. And he was angry and ashamed of himself.” The memory of Tristan’s heartbroken face flashed to mind. “He gets really depressed sometimes, and that night he said he wished that those guys had killed him with the bottle.”

Shane’s personal misery shifted into something like sympathy. “Has he said something like that before?”

“A few times. Sometimes he manages to write down that he said it, sometimes not. I made him promise me that he’d never go out like that again without me, or someone else.”

“Good. You didn’t happen to meet a guy named Gabe that night, did you?”

“Yes, he was there. He was pretty nice about the whole thing, said his father was one of the owners. You know him?”

“Yeah, he’s the guy who got me the lead on dancing there on Mondays.”

“Oh.” Shane had spent a few hours last week with that hottie? Noel tried to keep his jealousy at bay.

“Since I’m spilling my guts all over your bed today,” Shane said, “there’s something I didn’t mention last week, and I should have.”

Noel wasn’t sure he could take any more revelations today. “Okay.”

“At Big Dick’s last Monday, I kind of got wasted. I got into the music and dancing, and drinks kept coming, and I ended up at Gabe’s place, but he swears up and down that nothing happened, and he’s a good guy, so I swear nothing happened. He took care of me when I lost control, and I was going to tell you but I didn’t right away, and then days went by and it stopped feeling important, but I’m telling you now because you should know everything.”

Shane’s nervous word vomit was both frustrating and endearing.

Noel absorbed the last round, allowing himself to feel anger over Shane getting that drunk when he was out there scoping out a potential job. Gratitude to Gabe for taking care of Shane so something worse didn’t happen. Annoyance at Shane waiting so long to tell him. Curiosity came last. “How do you know Gabe?”

Shane flushed. Ducked his head. “Scene partner.”

“What?”

“From porn, okay? We did three videos together.”

Noel stared, jealousy flaring hot and bright. “Gabe fucked you?”

“Only on set, never off, I swear. We got talking one day, and he brought up the Monday theme nights, and that they were always looking for good dancers.”

“Have you two gotten together any other time?”

“No. Never. Hell, I kind of pissed him off the morning I woke up at his place, because I didn’t believe him right away that nothing happened. He got really insulted. He’s not that guy, and I believe him.”

Noel kind of hated that he had a face to go with Shane’s secret. That there was evidence of the two of them out there having sex. Gabe and Shane—or whoever they called themselves online. Deep down in a place that Noel didn’t really recognize, he felt something different. Warmer. Something very close to arousal, but that was impossible.

Wasn’t it?

What normal person got turned on by the idea of their boyfriend fucking another guy?

“If you believe him, then I believe him,” Noel said. “Anything else you want to drop on me?”

“The occasional bruises I’ve had over the last few weeks aren’t from me being clumsy.”

Noel snorted bitter laughter. “Yeah, I kind of figured that out, thanks.”

“I never kissed anyone else on set. Not on the mouth. I made sure of it. I wanted that to be only for us.”

That odd warmth rose up into Noel’s chest, and he smiled. “Really?”

“Chet was real good about respecting our limits, and that was one of mine. No mouth kissing. It was the only way I knew how to pretend I was being faithful to us.”

Noel had no explanation for why that revelation made him feel…not better about the whole thing. Less like he’d lost something special between only them. Shane had given away so much of his soul, but he’d kept that one thing for them. Kept one thing pure, and it helped.

“Thank you,” Noel said.

Shane opened up his body more, angling toward Noel. Less withdrawn and scared. “I admit, I honestly thought you’d have kicked me out by now.”

“Part of me wants to. There’s a part of me that’s genuinely furious at you for sharing yourself with other men. It’s the part of me that cares about you, Shane, and that keeps saying this is a guy I could fall in love with. I feel betrayed, but at the same time intellectually I know you weren’t cheating. I can tell myself it was just a job, and that you were emotionally disconnected, but my heart and my brain are having a hard time getting together and agreeing.”

“I get that. And I’m not asking you to figure it all out today. That’s not fair.”

“No, it’s not. I do need time to wrap my head and my heart around all of this.”

“Yeah.”

“You should call Jason. He was pretty frantic when he called me, looking for you.”

“I bet. God, I fucking hate scaring him like that.”

“I know. So tell him that.”

“I will. I’ll call him from the car. Not while I’m driving.”

“Good. Listen, I’ll call you sometime soon.”

“Okay. Um, bye.”

Shane let himself out. Noel almost ran to the door and asked him to come back, but everything had been said. He needed time to understand things. To figure out what he could and couldn’t live with.

He texted Jason. He’s coming home.

Jason: Thank you. How are you?

Confused. But working it out.

Hope it works—he’s calling.

Noel didn’t mind the abrupt end to the conversation. Jason and Shane needed to repair their relationship more than Noel did his. The brothers had a special bond, and he truly hoped it wasn’t broken beyond repair by this secret Shane had been keeping from both of them. He didn’t think Shane would survive losing his brother.

* * *

Shane’s phone call to Jason only lasted for a few quick sentences. Mostly him apologizing for running off, and then promising he was on his way home. He was numb from his conversation with Noel, and he made it halfway home before he realized he’d left his pills behind. Pills he had palmed, stared at for a long time, and finally put back in the bottle.

He hadn’t been able to bottle up the emotions, though. Those he had to stand up and face, and he’d started with Noel. Coming clean about everything had been the hardest few minutes of his life. He’d expected the worst. Noel sent him home with the tiniest glimmer of hope—a faraway pinch of light in a sea of black.

Please, God, I’ll do anything. Please let Noel forgive me. I’ve looked for him for so long.

Jason must have been pacing the living room, because he stood next to the television when Shane walked inside the trailer. He was a mess, his hair sticking up in all directions, still wearing the boxers and T-shirt he usually slept in.

“Goddammit, Jo,” Jason snarled. “You ever do something like this again, and I’ll beat your ass until you can’t sit for a week.”

Jason had never laid a finger on him. Not their whole lives.

“You were right,” Shane said.

“About what?”

“I almost took my entire bottle of Rozerem last night.”

Jason jerked like he’d been punched in the stomach, his face paling. Honest to God going whiter than Shane had ever seen. “Because of our fight?”

Shane hadn’t cried in years. Not since the day he woke up in the hospital, his throat aching from the rope that hadn’t killed him, and saw Jason quietly sobbing next to his bed. They’d both cried that day, and then Shane had bottled it up. Put it away so it couldn’t hurt him or Jason ever again.

The despair in those four words, in that simple question, cracked that bottle. Shane’s eyes stung, and his throat closed. His chest ached with the need to release years of pent-up emotions. “I didn’t want to hurt anymore.”

“Oh, Jo.”

Jason swept him into his arms, so strong and safe, and Shane let go. Grief and fear and anger erupted from his chest in a harsh, aching sob. His eyes burned with the hot tears violently forcing themselves up and out, held at bay for too long. Loud and hard, he cried for himself, for his brother, and for all of the horrible choices he’d made. All of the weaknesses that had led them to this.

Sobs became hiccups, and even those quieted into harsh panting. His nose was clogged, his throat sore. At some point, he’d ended up on the floor, still tangled up in Jason’s arms, his cheek against Jason’s chest. His entire face hurt, especially his eyes. Despite that, though, Shane felt lighter. Less weighed down by all of the negative emotions that he’d kept bottled up for nearly a decade.

Fingers ruffled his hair. Shane smiled. Jason hadn’t done that since he was a kid.

“How’re you doing?” Jason asked in a hoarse whisper.

“Better.” Shane found strength in such a simple word. He lifted his head with a confidence he’d never felt. Jason’s eyes were red, his own cheeks wet. “A lot better. I think I needed that.” He tried to sniff and failed miserably. “I gotta blow my nose.”

“Yeah, you do.”

Jason got them both up, installed Shane on the couch, then fetched a box of tissues. While Shane tried to empty his entire nasal cavity into a couple wads of tissues, Jason disappeared into the kitchen. He returned with a glass of water. Shane sipped at it, somehow both exhausted and energized.

Funny what happens when you admit you have emotions like everyone else.

“I told Noel,” Shane said. “About the fight and the money and doing porn.”

Jason sat next to him, elbows on knees, hands clutched between them. “How’d that go?”

“He didn’t dump me. I genuinely thought he would.”

“He cares about you. Sounds like he cares enough to give you another chance, despite everything.”

“Yeah. He hurt me pretty badly last week with that assault complaint. I hurt him like whoa today. When do we stop hurting each other, Jay?”

“When there’s no more secrets and everything’s on the table.”

Shane met his brother’s gaze, surprised by the confidence in eyes identical to his own. “I told him everything.”

“Not everything.”

“No. That’s our secret, Jason, yours and mine. We haven’t told anyone in fourteen years.”

Jason clasped his knee. “I’m not suggesting you tell him today. But in the future, if you’re still together and you’re at the point where you know in your heart you can tell him, then you have my permission.”

Shane’s heart wanted to explode. He couldn’t imagine telling this secret to anyone except Noel, and he had Jason’s permission. Maybe not today, maybe not in a few years. But one day, Shane could finally tell someone else the secret he’d never spoken out loud. Not to anyone, even Jason. It was something they knew. They didn’t have to say it.

He could say it to Noel one day, but how would Noel look at him afterward? He’d already disappointed him so much. What if this was the final, unforgivable thing that destroyed them?

“Thank you,” Shane said, “but there’s no point in sharing that with anyone.”

“That’s up to you. I’m just putting it out there.”

“Would you ever tell Elizabeth?”

“Only if you wanted her to know.”

He loved Jason for leaving this in his hands. “Okay.”

Jason scrubbed his hands over his face, reddening the skin. “Since we’re floating along on the Honesty Boat, I have to tell you something.”

“What?”

“When the ICD zapped me last Monday? It happened again Tuesday on my way to my appointment with Dr. Bailey.”

A tremor jolted down Shane’s spine. “It did? Shit, what did the doctor say?”

“He did another x-ray and compared it to the one from May. He could see a visible difference in the thickening of the atrial wall. The disease is progressing, and I’m on a new medication to try and slow it down.”

Shane let a blast of anger work its way out before responding to the devastating information. He hated that Jason hadn’t told him, but getting mad at Jason wasn’t going to help him get better. He swallowed hard, pushing down a new wave of tears, and when the hell had he become such a crybaby?

“I’m also on a transplant list,” Jason said. “I’ve been moved closer to the top, and I have a pretty common blood type, so there’s a decent chance.”

“A heart transplant?” Someone else would have to die for Jason to live. That was how it worked.

“I’d have to take medication for the rest of my life, but at least I’d be rid of the ICD.”

“What if they don’t find a heart?”

Jason tapped the left side of his chest. “Then we keep throwing medications at this thing until it cooperates.”

Or gives out completely. Fuck.

“That look on your face?” Jason said. “That’s exactly why I didn’t tell you. I don’t want you to imagine the worst, or ever to look at me like I’m a dead man walking. This is just another thing we’re going to get through, because that’s what we do. The McShane brothers are survivors, right?”

Shane searched for some kind of levity, because that was what Jason needed from him. “Sure we are. I mean, we survived gay porn, didn’t we?”

Jason snickered. “Yeah, we did. And you promise me something else, okay?”

“Okay.”

“No matter what happens, even if I get that transplant and my insurance doesn’t cover it, you will not ever, ever do porn again to pay for our bills. Swear to me.”

“I promise.” Shane didn’t hesitate. He never wanted to go back there. It had almost ruined the two most important relationships in his life. He wouldn’t risk it again.

“Good. Now go get some rest, you look exhausted.”

“Back at you, bro.”

Shane quickly texted a coworker and arranged to switch his midday shift for Alan’s evening shift. Then he crawled into bed and slept the sleep of the truly, emotionally wrung out. He didn’t even dream.