Lover At Last(210)

“We did.”

“So what’s up with all the weapons?”

Qhuinn rolled his eyes. “Look, I’m not staying in this house until dawn traps me in for a grand total of twenty-four hours straight. Not going to happen.”

“No one said you had to hang here. What I am telling you, brother-to-brother, is that you will not be out in the field with us tonight.”

“Oh, come on—”

“Go see a fucking movie if you want. Hit a CVS, but remember to take your car keys in with you this time. Go to a late-night mall and give Santa your list, I don’t care. But you’re not fighting—and before you keep arguing, this is a rule for all of us. You’re not special. You’re not the only one not going out in the field. Clear?”

Qhuinn muttered under his breath, but when the Brother extended his palm, he clapped his own against it and nodded.

As Tohr took off, jogging down the grand staircase, Qhuinn wanted to go on a cursing spree: a whole evening to himself. Yay.

Nothing like having a date night with a depressive.

Hell, maybe what he should do is go up to the movie theater, throw on some hormone-replacement-therapy patches, and cheer himself up by watching The Sound of Music and painting his toenails.

Maybe Steel Magnolias…Like Water for Coconuts.

Or was that Chocolate, he wondered.

Then again, maybe he could just shoot himself in the head.

Either would work.



Blay’s family’s safe house was out in the countryside, surrounded by snow-covered fields that undulated gently to forested boundaries. Made of cream-colored river stone, the manor wasn’t grand, but rather cozy, with low-beamed ceilings, plenty of fireplaces that were always lit in the cold weather, and a state-of-the-art kitchen that was the only modern thing on the property.

In which his mom cooked positive ambrosia.

As he and his father emerged from the study, his mother looked over from her eight-burner stove. Her eyes were wide and worried as she stirred the cheese she was melting in a copper double boiler.

Not wanting to make a big deal out of the huge deal that had just gone down in that book-lined room, Blay flashed a discreet thumbs-up at her and took a seat at the rough oak table in the alcove.

His mother put her hand over her mouth and closed her lids, still stirring even as the emotions welled.

“Hey, hey,” his father said as he came up to his shellan. “Shhhhh…”

Turning her to him, he wrapped his arms around his mate and held her close. Even as she kept up with that stirring.

“It’s okay.” He kissed her head. “Hey, it’s all right.”

His father’s stare drifted over, and Blay had to blink repeatedly as their eyes met. Then he had to shield his watery eyes.

“People! For the Virgin Scribe’s sake!” The older male sniffled himself. “My beautiful, healthy, smart, priceless son is gay—this is nothing to mourn!”

Someone started laughing. Blay joined in.

“It’s not like somebody died.” His father tilted his mother’s chin up and smiled into her face. “Right?”

“I’m just so glad it’s out and everyone’s together,” his mother said.

The male recoiled as if any other outcome was unfathomable to him. “Our family is strong—don’t you know this, my love? But more to the point, this is no challenge. This is no tragedy.”

God, his parents were the best.

“Come here.” His dad beckoned. “Blay, come over here.”

Blay got up and went across. As his parents wrapped their arms around him, he took a deep breath and became the child he had once been a lifetime ago: His father’s aftershave smelled the same, and his mother’s shampoo still reminded him of a summer night, and the scent of the baking lasagna in the oven teed off his hungry stomach.

Just as it always had.

Time truly was relative, he thought. Even though he was taller and broader, and so many things had happened, this unit—these two people—were his foundation, his steady rock, his never perfect but never failing standard. And as he stood in the lee of their familiar, loving arms, he was able to breathe away every bit of the tension he’d felt.

It had been hard to tell his father, to find the words, to break through the “safety” that came with not running the risk of having to recast his opinion of the male who had raised him and loved him as no other had. If the guy had not supported him, if he’d chosen the glymera’s value system over the authentic him? Blay would have been forced to view someone he loved in a totally different light.

But that hadn’t happened. And now? He felt like he’d jumped off a building…and landed on Wonder Bread, safe and sound: The biggest test yet of their family structure had not just been passed, but completely triumphed over.