Page 117

Oscar paused, frowning. “Why?”

“The hell do you mean? We want to see you.”

“You saw me a couple of days ago, Gabriel. I’ve been living on your couch for weeks.”

“The couch in the guest room, maybe.”

“Gabriel.”

Gabriel sighed, speaking quietly. “She’s worried about you and doesn’t want you to know.”

“There’s nothing to worry about.”

“Right, but you try telling her that.”

“I have, repeatedly.”

“And look how well that’s worked out for you.”

Oscar sighed, stepping into the living room and fiddling with a box. “You could have chosen a less stubborn woman to marry and have kids with.”

“The kids would also like to see you again. They miss you,” Gabriel added.

Oscar sighed. “Why? Again, three days.”

Gabriel laughed. “Because they’re kids, and they miss their uncle Oscar.”

Oscar shook his head, puzzled as ever to understand the appeal. His seven-year-old niece and four-year-old nephew were admittedly adorable, something Oscar never thought about other kids, but it wasn’t like he was a great uncle, especially recently. If he wasn’t sleeping off the pain and pills at the beginning of his stay at his brother’s, he was grouchy and antisocial for the rest of it.

“Natalie says she wants to have another tea party with you,” Gabriel said, a grin in his voice.

Oscar stopped fussing with the now open box. “I did not have a tea party with her.”

“My little girl is many things, Oscar, but she’s not a liar.”

“She promised she’d keep it a secret,” Oscar grumbled.

“She’s also absolute shit at keeping secrets.”

In the background, Oscar heard his niece call out. “Mom! Dad said a bad!”

Gabriel’s voice became muffled as he spoke. “Nobody likes a tattletale, Natalie.”

“You said not to say bad words.”

“I know.You’renot supposed to.”

Oscar shook his head as he listened to his brother argue with his daughter, knowing the cause was lost just as it would be if Gabriel were arguing with Anne. As he listened to the familiar sounds of his family, Oscar continued digging through the box. Most of it had been packed up long ago by Oscar himself or his brother when Oscar needed help. It had been long enough that he’d forgotten what most of the boxes contained, but this one appeared to be pictures.

Idly flipping through, he smiled at the pictures of his brother and him when they’d been much younger. At seventeen, Oscar still had a few more inches to grow and probably another eighty pounds of muscle. The intervening ten years had not had much impact on Gabriel, though, and Oscar wondered how his brother looked almost the same at thirty-five as he had at twenty-five, albeit with a few more wrinkles. Considering their parents had died when Gabriel was twenty, leaving him to care for a twelve-year-old Oscar, there should have been more than a few lines on his face.

The next picture stopped Oscar’s fingers, and he stared at it. It had been almost six years since he’d seen it, and he’d honestly thought every piece of evidence from that time was gone. But there he was, twenty-one years old and smirking at the camera, his thick arm wrapped around the shoulders of a shorter blond man who grinned wickedly.

Oscar wished he could say it had been forever since he’d last thought of Troy, but he’d often thought of him during his recovery. His finger rubbed over the happy moment, caught by a camera handed to a stranger, as he and Troy enjoyed some free time on a beach far from the base at which they’d both been stationed. It was one of those few moments when Oscar felt free and open to hold the man close, even stealing a kiss when he thought they were clear. It had been a good vacation, andhis heart squeezed as he remembered the fun days and tender nights.

Oscar watchedTroy sprawled out on his beach towel, dozing in the sun and on display for anyone who dared to look. Reaching out and touching the napping man was tempting, but Oscar didn’t want to wake him. He was content to watch Troy sleep comfortably and not worry that someone they knew might spot them.

Troy stirred, foot twitching, and his eyes cracked open. “What are you doing?”