I was beginning to wonder if I would ever be able to think clearly again. Over the last few days, that ability had been tested over and over, and I had failed on just about every attempt. This was new for me, considering the fact that I had always prided myself on being a logical thinker. I thought of myself as the kind of guy who could tune out my surroundings and focus just about anywhere if I tried hard enough. I could reflect on riding a crowded, hectic train through the countryside in southern India, standing and clinging to the metal bar overhead for dear life. We were stuffed into the train car like sardines, only louder and less organized. People blew smoke in my face. They argued. They clutched live chickens under their arms which squawked and shook loose feathers into the air every ten seconds or so. And yet, I had still been able to plug in my earbuds and write up some formulas on my phone with my one free hand.

Going even further back, when I was still an adolescent away at boarding school, I used to be constantly picked on and bullied, even during class. And yet, I never let the taunting or the snickering behind my back keep me from dutifully completing every test and quiz before anyone else was even halfway through. I always humbled myself with the reminder that I wasn’t some eccentric mystical genius or anything, I was just very, very well disciplined with my thoughts.

Or at least, that was how I thought of myself up until this week. But meeting Damon and having him spend every waking minute in my presence for the past few days had rocked my world. I felt off-balance, like the center of my universe had been repositioned so that I was no longer orbiting my passions, my ideas, my dreams for the future. Suddenly, the new focal point of my entire universe hinged around Damon. He had me hanging on his every word, filing away each gruff syllable like it was vital information. Every time he looked my way, I felt my entire body clench up, like someone had thrust me into the middle of a stage and cast a blinding spotlight over me. And I couldn’t stop myself from dissecting and analyzing every bit of it. I felt like a hormonal teenager with hearts in his eyes. I felt like a fool, to be perfectly honest. Why was I so utterly captivated by a straight man? What about Damon was so potent that he could singlehandedly unravel my willpower and reel back the years until I was the same idiot I used to be in college?

I hadn’t felt this way in years. I had assumed I was long past this stage of my life. I was comfortable with my sexuality. I was content with the man I had become. But something about my bodyguard was powerful enough to scratch away at the smooth, successful facade I’d built up around myself over the years. I had never been so simultaneously frustrated and fascinated by someone in my life. And the wildest part was that he wasn’t even trying. He didn’t have to.

So, when Saturday rolled around and Damon coolly suggested that we stop by Central Park to meet up with his sister-in-law and her kids, I jumped at the opportunity. In fact, I probably gave off more enthusiasm than Damon had expected, and I had to force myself to dial it back a few notches. He mentioned that he regularly meets Carla and her kids, but with the two of us heading to London soon, he didn’t want to miss out on seeing them. I was more than happy to oblige.

“It won’t take very long, I promise. I just want to touch base with my sister-in-law and say hi to the kids. I’ll make it quick,” Damon said as he stood at the kitchen counter, casting a sidelong glance my way.

I was leaning in the doorway, watching him chop up fresh pineapple and strawberries to pack into little reusable containers. In addition to that, he put together several chicken salad sandwiches and a bag of potato chips, packing it all into a cooler for the group of us to snack on at the park. I was trying to play it cool, but in reality, my heart was twisting and surging to see him acting so… well, domestic. It was such an endearing aspect of his personality, and so unexpected.

“Oh, we can take as long as you want. No rush,” I assured him with a dismissive wave of my hand. Then, unable to contain myself, I went on. “You know, when I first met you, you were changing a tire on your car.”

Damon frowned and raised an eyebrow, shrugging. “Yeah? And?”

I smiled sheepishly. “Well, it’s just odd to reconcile that first image of you with the image in front of me right now. Standing in the kitchen, chopping up fruit. Packing lunches for a picnic in the park. I never would have expected this,” I admitted.

“Oh,” he murmured, turning back to look down at the spread in front of him. I realized with a jolt that, for the first time ever, he seemed a little self-conscious.

I jumped to amend my statement, rushing over to lay a hand on his shoulder. “No, no, it’s a good thing. I like it. I like…the way you are,” I told him, hesitating over the wording.

Damon stiffened at first, then visibly relaxed under my touch. I felt a little thrill pass down my spine. He smiled, gently shrugging away to continue working at the lunches.

“Well, thank you. I think,” he replied quietly.

“Don’t mention it,” I said, backing off.

My heart was still thumping like crazy half an hour later as we crossed the street in front of my apartment building and headed into the park. It was a gorgeous fall day, much like the day when Damon and I first met by accident on the street. The sun was shining high in the sky, crisp leaves crunched underfoot, and there was a hopeful, exciting feeling in the air. Damon and I walked for about ten minutes until we reached the Bethesda Fountain, a beautiful terraced area of the park near the water. No sooner had we stepped out into the square than two small figures came darting out of nowhere and tackled Damon around the waist and legs. Startled, I jumped back a little, apparently still kind of on edge after my street attack days ago. But when I realized that Damon was smiling and laughing, I calmed down enough to take in the gorgeous, heartwarming sight of two kids clinging to him with big, toothy grins on their faces.

“Uncle Damon, you made it!” exclaimed the taller one, a little boy.

“Yay!” cried the tiny girl beside him.

Both kids had a shock of curly dark hair, and the girl’s hair was divided into two flouncy pigtails. There was enough of a family resemblance between the three of them to make it obvious that they were Damon’s nephew and niece.

“Yep, I’m here. How are you two doing today?” Damon greeted them, beaming with love.

He bent down and scooped the little girl up into his arms, making her squeal with delight.

“I ate an ice cream!” the little girl boasted.

“Oh wow, did you? What flavor?” Damon asked her.

“Vanilla with rainbow sprinkles,” she replied joyously.

“Yeah, and I brought a Frisbee, so we can play!” interjected the little boy.

“That’ll be fun,” Damon agreed, even as he shot me a subtle look of regret that almost made me burst out laughing. “By the way, this is my friend Jamie,” he added.

The kids both stared at me wide-eyed. I was not especially well versed in the ways of talking to children, but I was definitely going to try.

I gave them a bright smile and said, “Nice to meet you. Your uncle has told me all about you guys. You must be Thom Jr., and you must be Madison.”

I tapped the little girl on the tip of her nose and she giggled, batting at my hand playfully. Just then, a somewhat stressed-out-looking woman came hurrying up to us, carrying a pudgy baby on her hip. The woman had wispy red hair pulled back into a ponytail, and even though I could tell she wasn’t wearing a stitch of makeup (and that she probably hadn’t had a solid full night’s rest in recent memory), she was very pretty.

“Damon, oh it’s so good to see you,” she said, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. “Sorry about my little gremlins. I told them to chill, but as you can tell, that’s not really their speed.”

“It’s no problem. I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather be ambushed by,” Damon told her with a wink.

The woman turned to look at me, blinking in surprise at first, then cocking her head to one side.

“Hi, I’m Carla, Damon’s sister-in-law. This is Harry,” she said, referring to the baby. She reached out a hand for me to shake. “Sorry if this seems rude, but you look awfully familiar. Are you an actor or something?” she asked me.

I shook her hand, chuckling as my face burned pink.

“Oh gosh, no. I’m an inventor,” I said. “I’ve been in a few articles here and there. You might’ve seen my photo on one of those internet news sites.”

“Mm. Yeah. That’s probably it,” Carla said brightly. “Well, anyway, it’s great to meet you. Beautiful day out, isn’t it?”

We three adults started strolling down to the water while Thom Jr. and Madison raced around, playing Frisbee and in general being rambunctious. I had to admit, the three kids were all pretty darn adorable. With their shared genetics, I couldn’t help but wonder if Damon had been that precious as a child. I had to assume he was probably the cutest little kid on the planet.

It was fascinating to watch the way Damon’s face lit up when he interacted with his niece and nephews, the softer tone of voice and gentle body language he used. He treated Madison like a princess and faux-wrestled with Thom Jr., even letting the seven-year-old “win” the battle. They threw the Frisbee back and forth for a bit, while Carla, the little ones, and I sat on the sidelines and cheered them on. We made small talk about the weather, the park, restaurants in the area, traffic; the usual topics New Yorkers turned to when pressed for conversation. I was pleasantly surprised at how easy and comfortable it was to talk with her. It felt good to make her laugh, especially since I had a feeling she needed it. Badly. Carla looked relieved to have someone else to share the responsibility, even for a little while, and I couldn’t help but wonder when she last got to take a nap or get a manicure or see a movie by herself. Clearly, she adored her children, and I could tell she was a great mom, but I knew even the best parents needed some time to recuperate.

“He’s great with the kids, isn’t he?” I pointed out.

Carla nodded, her eyes still watching Thom Jr. and Damon play Frisbee. “Yeah, he is. Always had been. Damon’s a good uncle. A good brother. Back when my late husband, Thom, and I were still dating, I was so relieved to meet Damon for the first time because I knew right then that I was marrying into a great family. The two of them were very close, you know. Damon’s the younger one, but he was always so protective of Thom. Used to drive my husband crazy sometimes, actually, because he was a military guy, you know. He thought of himself as this tough guy who never needed anyone’s help,” she reminisced, a wistful look in her brown eyes. “But Damon was insistent. He’d bend over backwards for his family, sacrifice anything in a heartbeat. My kids are really lucky to have him as an uncle, especially since Thom passed away. He was a soldier. Killed in action overseas.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” I told her softly. “I can’t imagine the kind of pain you must have felt. And still be feeling.”

She nodded slowly, a muscle tensing in her jaw as her chin quivered. I could tell she was struggling to hold back tears. I patted her on the back, and she gave me a smile, even though it hardly reached her eyes. She swallowed hard and took a deep breath, regaining her composure.

“Anyway, it can get a little overwhelming, trying to handle all three kids and the bills and the responsibilities alone sometimes. But Damon’s been there with me every step of the way, offering help. Whenever I feel really down, it’s good to remember that I’ve got a guy like him on my side, just a phone call or text message away. The kids love him, and I think it’s made it a little easier on them losing their father to have such a hands-on, doting uncle around. Damon and Thom were so similar in a lot of ways, opposite in others. One thing I know for sure, though, is that they’re both heroes. You can really depend on guys like that.”

She sighed.

“I believe it,” I replied quietly.

The six of us sat down for a quick but wholesome picnic lunch prepared by Damon, and then there was another short round of Frisbee before Carla announced it was time to head home. Harry, the eighteen-month-old, was getting restless and cranky. It was time for a nap. The two older siblings whined a little at first, but Damon placated them with the promise of another playdate sometime soon.

I said goodbye to Carla and the kids, and I stood back to let Damon have a private word with his sister-in-law, not wanting to get in the way. I tried not to stare, but I couldn’t help but notice that their calm conversation shifted into a brief, hushed argument for a couple minutes. Damon had taken something small out of his pocket and was offering it to Carla, who kept shaking her head, a defiant scowl on her face. But finally, after a minute or so of this back and forth, she heaved a sigh and accepted the small gift. With that, Damon kissed her on the cheek and came stalking back to me.

“Come on. Let’s get out of here so you can make that meeting on time,” he said gruffly to me as we fell into step.

It was just a short walk out of the park and to the road, where we hailed a cab to take us across town. I had a meeting with one of my lab guys to discuss some recent information collected through experiments I designed.

I tried my best to keep my questions to myself, not wanting to pry, but once we slid into the backseat of the cab and fell into silence, my curiosity got the best of me.

I looked over at Damon, who was gazing out the window with a serious look on his face, and asked softly, “So, what was that argument about? Is everything okay?”

Damon did a double take as he turned to face me, clearly having been jolted out of some deep contemplation.

He shrugged. “It’s fine. She’s just stubborn. In fact, she’s stubborn enough that I can see how she was such a good fit for my brother,” he said cryptically.

“What did you give her that she wanted so badly to refuse?” I pressed on, unable to stop.

“Money,” he admitted after a few moments of reluctance. “Just money. She’s been struggling to make ends meet since my brother died a year ago. She was a stay-at-home mom, and a damn good one, too. But now that Thom isn’t around to be the breadwinner, money is tight. Add in the funeral costs and the cost of having three small children on top of how pricey it is living in the city, and it’s no wonder she’s so stressed out. And yet, she still doesn’t want to accept my help. She gave in eventually, though. I would help more if she’d let me, but she’s determined not to be a charity case. I can respect that.”

“Wow,” I murmured, shaking my head. “You’re a damn good brother-in-law, you know that? She’s lucky to have you. And so are the kids. I know you must still be hurting, too, losing your brother like that. I know how it feels, in a way. I lost my sister when we were both kids.”

Damon looked up at me, surprised. “Really? How?”

I sighed. “Cassie was always kind of a sickly kid. Weak immune system and all that. She was only ten when she got pneumonia in the hospital and died. I was thirteen. It was…rough, as you can imagine. My parents did the best they could, but money was tight. They couldn’t afford all the treatments and care Cassie needed. It was just too much, and then she was gone.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Thirteen is an awful age to be already. Losing someone so close to you at that age must have been brutal,” Damon said.

I nodded. “Yeah. It was. But that was almost twenty years ago now. I’ve had some time to heal. You lost Thom only a year ago. If you ever need anything…”

I trailed off, instinctively reaching over to pat Damon’s hand. To my surprise, he turned his palm and closed his fingers over my hand, holding it for a few seconds. That simple gesture sent a shock through my body, my heart starting to race.

“Thank you,” Damon said meaningfully, and then let go of my hand.

He turned back to stare out the window again, and even though he didn’t say a word about it, all I could think about was the phantom sensation of his fingers on my hand, the imprint left behind.