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“Are you sure?” Cort’s voice warbles from how badly he’s shivering. His nerves are frayed to the point I had to have Aaron drive us with Julio sitting in the passenger seat. I risk death by vehicular manslaughter by unhooking my seatbelt, just so I can wrap my arms around Cortez. I know he’s not cold, but I try to use my warmth to stop the shivering.

“Positive,” Julio vows as he looks at us through the rear-view mirror. “Trust me. You’ll see what I mean when you meet our pa.”

“What am I supposed to do? Just go in there and say, ‘ Hey, remember me ?’ I mean, most people wouldn’t think this is a happy surprise. Remember me with Zane? Remember how Katya acted with Zane? I don’t want to upset Julio’s mother.”

“Shh… it’s okay. Everything will be fine,” I reassure. I already relayed the entire conversation I had with Gwen, word for word, several times over for both Cortez and Julio. “Celeste asked Jacki for permission, and Gwen guaranteed the woman was perfectly fine with what happened between your mother and father.”

“My mom will love you, no fear on that. Plus, she’ll shit her pants to find out Pa’s a grandpa.” Julio laughs, sounding just like Cort. It’s a sarcastic and disbelieving sound. “Shit, I have a niece. That demon spawn is my niece. Whoa…”

“What did you say about my daughter?” Cort fiercely bites out, anger warming him until the shivering stops. I think he’s happy to be angry, versus scared shitless and anxious.

“Doesn’t matter what I said, brother.” Julio taunts as he exits my SUV. He leans over the seat, getting into range of a furious Cortez. “We’re here. Welcome home.”

Anger fleeing in a second, Cortez quivers so violently he nearly has a seizure. “I’m gonna piss my pants. I hope the man isn’t as big as that brut, ‘cuz he’ll tear me apart when I make his wife cry.”

“Dude, you don’t know my parents. Jacki Ramirez never cries, and Cortez Ramirez is a pussycat wearing a Cheshire cat smile. You’ll see,” Julio promises, then reaches to open Cort’s door, so Cort either has to get out or look like a petulant child.

“Come with me, please,” Cortez begs, gray eyes filled with unshed tears. I can do nothing but slide across the seat to get out. Then I follow the brothers up the cement driveway.

“I’m staying in the car!” Aaron calls out the window. “I want nothing to do with this disaster.”

“Way to be optimistic!” I shout back, smirking.

A two-story stone house greets us, and I’m pleased to note there are no holiday decorations displayed on the second day of the New Year. My OCD would go into hyperdrive if there were. Just a simple pine bough wreath hangs on the door.

I try and fail to ignore the garden gnomes sticking their creepy pointed hats out of the snow drift. Dominion’s founders do not do gnomes.

“Gnomes?” I raise a curious brow at Julio.

“That’s not very badass.” Cort mumbles out the side of his mouth, relieved, like he fears his father and stepmother were two of Stanton’s faithful soldiers in the war against laws. Actually, it’s rather endearing how piss-your-pants scared Cortez is right now.

“Seriously, gnomes are freakin’ scary. Ma is obsessed– I have nightmares,” Julio teases as his hand turns the doorknob.

I swear Cortez is about to swoon. I grab my man’s arm to make sure he doesn’t faint on us.

“Jules, is that you?” immediately greets us before the door has a chance to fully swing open.

“Jeez, Ma.” Julio grumbles, but manages to fill those two snide words with love and affection. “You got LoJack on my ass or some shit? I can never get a step in the door without you already knowing I’m here. You take the fun out of the surprise.”

“Pa, set a few extra plates for supper!” An unseen Julio’s mother shouts. “Jules is here with some friends.”

Emotionally raw, Cort and I just stand at the threshold to the Ramirez household. Julio’s giant body blocks the entire doorway, so neither of us has any idea what Jacki looks like, or even how she knows we’re behind the behemoth.

Poor Cort is quivering like a leaf– his teeth are even chattering.

“Hi, handsome,” Jacki says with a smile as she peers around her son’s shoulder, only getting a good look at the side of my face. “I’ve never seen you before.”

If Jacki is a day over fifty, I’ll be shocked, even though she must be, unless she was another one of the infamous fourteen-year-old mothers like Gwen. She’s a voluptuous woman, with soft, huggable curves, as if Jacki was built to be someone’s grandma. Flawless tanned skin and a froth of black hair, no wonder Julio is so pretty.

“Ah, Ma.” Julio sighs before I can respond, draws in a large breath, then expels it in a rush of words. “This is Dr. Ezra Zeitler. Our Holden elder.”

“Oh, wow!” Jacki’s eyes go as large as teacup saucers. “To what do we owe the honor? Hey, Pa, make it the good china.” She shouts over her shoulder, not looking at us but toward what I can only assume is the kitchen. “It’s not Julian’s usual ruffian friends.”

“Ruffian?” I mutter with a smirk. “That’s a new word for it.”

“Oh, I don’t mean his gay friends. I mean those thugs from the Green cartel. They tend to get too animated when they get to swapping stories. Plates get chipped by the silverware. Please, come in. Jules, move your fat ass outta the way and let your elder in.”

“Ezra’s not my elder,” Julio grumbles, offended in the extreme.

“Respect.” Jacki snips at her grown son. “Get some.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn ya, Ma.” Julio steps to the side, revealing a frozen in shock Cortez.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” Jacki breathes out as she makes the sign of the cross. Huge brown eyes glisten as a well of tears instantly erupts. “Pa, ya gotta see this shit. Ya ain’t gonna believe it. It’s a miracle!”

“Hello,” Cortez sheepishly releases. “I believe I belong to your husband.”

Julio’s snort ricochets like a gunshot, and I can’t help but chuckle.

“Ya think? I’m pretty sure you found the right place. Come in– come in.” One arm waving us forward, Jacki quickly uses the other hand to grab Cort’s arm to tug him into the house.

Julio shuts the door, then leans on it, so a panicking Cortez has no escape route.

Not that Cortez even tries to escape as Jacki tugs him through a homey living room, then into a warm and inviting kitchen filled with delicious scents.

The first thing I see is the rounded ass of a man bending over to get a pan out of the oven– an ass that is more accurate than a DNA test.

“Jacki, what’s all the fuss?” Cortez Ramirez asks, never looking in our direction as he places a pan of meatloaf on the range top. “Do you want garlic in the mashed potatoes or not? It usually gives Julio a bellyache.”

“Or not,” deeply rumbles from behind me. “Add sour cream. Lots of sour cream and butter.”

“Ah, you get a tummy ache.” I whisper to the big thug lurking at my back, finding it adorable how normal he and his family are. I want to move in and never leave.

“Shut it,” Julio whispers in my ear. “I was an only child– the operative word is was .”

“I guess we’ll go with chives then.” Cortez rambles to himself as he grabs things out of the refrigerator, still not looking at us. “So, who do we have here?” Turning around, he wipes his hands on a kitchen towel, prepared to shake hands with the introductions.

It’s like a bad comedy act. Cortez Ramirez takes one look at us, then goes white as a sheet. The weirdest thing is how he keeps looking at me, then Cort, me and then Cort. Over and over, with his mouth hanging open. Not that Cort and I aren’t doing the exact same thing to him.

“You should do print ads,” I mumble like an idiot. “God, I hope Cortez looks like you when he’s in his fifties.” I snap my mouth shut, finally finding out where Cortez got his good looks, because they sure as shit didn’t come from the Hunter side of our family tree.

I also realize the picture Celeste showed us of the fictitious Julian Abernathy was most definitely Cort’s birth father. No wonder Celeste was so taken with him, where she was willing to risk the wrath of his wife to have him.

Tanned skin, tall and leanly built, with graying hair and huge brown eyes, Cortez Ramirez only got better looking with age.

Face splitting into a huge grin I know so well, I see why Julio made the pussycat with the Cheshire grin comment in regard to his father. Wowza. This man could sell bibles to an atheist.

“Wow,” the elder Cortez drawls out. “One of you is definitely my son, but the other… are you brothers? That can’t be right,” he mutters to himself, doing the calculations in his head. “You’re the same age. Celeste couldn’t have had you both.”

“Wow.” Jacki echoes her husband. “You’re right– they both look like Celeste.”

“Mr. Ramirez, I’m Ezra Zeitler. The Holden.” I reach forward to shake his hand, discovering they share the same shaped fingers. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” I speak for both of us, because Cort is frozen in place again, muter than Grant. “Celeste was my aunt. My birth father was Raymond Hunter, but let’s pretend otherwise for multiple reasons,” I mutter underneath my breath, causing Julio to snort.

“Ezra’s going to be your son-in-law.” Julio instantly narks on us, so much for not sounding like incestuous heathens. “I believe that’s one of the reasons Ez wants his parentage kept quiet.”

“Huh? How about that?” the elder Cortez murmurs in awe. “Well, ain’t that something?”

“It’s something, alright.” Julio barks a laugh of pure irony as he pushes Cort farther into the kitchen. “Meet your son, Pa. Thanks for telling me I had a goddamn brother. In thirty years, it didn’t cross your mind to tell me that tidbit of information?”

“Respect,” Jacki snaps again. “We didn’t know if his young man existed or not. We didn’t even know if Celeste got pregnant, and if she did, whether it was a boy or a girl.” Maternal instinct rising, Jacki pulls Cort into a hug, rubbing his back and murmuring nonsense to him.

Cort just limply hangs in his stepmother’s arms, openly staring at his father.

“What’s your name, son?” Acting indifferent, Cortez begins smashing potatoes. The normalcy of the act unfreezes his son.

“Cortez, sir.” Cort answers as he extracts himself from his stepmother’s arms.

“Holy hell!” Cort’s father gasps in awe. “I always hoped you were out there. I figured I should just know, sense you or something.” Busying himself with the potatoes, it’s obvious to see the elder Cortez enjoys working with his hands to avoid looking people in the eye during hard conversations.

I know someone who does that too.

“When your mother moved from Meyers Manor, she stopped coming to meetings. Then when I retired, my contact with Celeste was completely cut off, so we gave up hope. I can’t believe your mother named you after me– I’m touched that I was always with you, even if it was in name only.”

“I-I-I didn’t think I had any family left, besides Ezra and our children.” Stammering, Cort gestures toward me, finally looking animated. “After my mom died, I-I-I thought I was alone. I-I-I never thought I had a dad out there, or a brother. I mean, I assumed I did, I just didn’t think they’d want me.”

“You’re wanted, son,” Cort’s father brusquely says, getting choked up. “Now sit at the table– it’s time to eat. This kind of conversation isn’t good on an empty stomach.”

Cort’s ass plants itself in the nearest chair, causing Julio to protest. “That was my seat, dickwad!” But he readily sits next to his younger brother in another seat.

I join them, staring around in awe. It’s like Cortez and I were abducted by aliens and placed in an alternate universe or some other strangeness.

How our lives can change in an instant? It’s surreal.

“Did I hear you correctly, grandchildren?” Jacki sounds delighted as she starts passing around the side dishes her husband prepared. “Do you have pictures?”

“Oh, God. Save me.” Julio turns on the dramatics, reminding me of Cort. “Cort has one daughter that’s biologically connected to us. Since they’re incestuous fuckers, Ezra’s children are not only your son’s blood, but they also call him Dad.”

“Julian,” the father chastises the son with his birth name. “Do as your mother always says and have some respect. You know we don’t care how the children come into being, just so there are some.”

Gulping, Julio reaches for his glass, properly cowed like a misbehaving little boy.

“So tell me about our grandbabies. Everything.” Grandbabies– plural. With one word, our relationship is both accepted and acknowledged. Cort’s father smiles so brilliantly my breath catches in my throat.

I’m dazed.

Smiling just as blindingly as his father, Cort takes my hand in his, then squeezes while his other hand holds the fork that’s digging into his meatloaf.

“This is delicious.” Cort purrs around a mouthful. “Azrael is my daughter. She’ll be four in a few months. We were lucky and managed to have twins– Azrael is mine and Marcus Zane is Ezra’s. God must be okay with us, or he wouldn’t have blessed us. Ez has two older children. Zane turned fifteen on Christmas day and Ava will be fifteen in a March…”