“So, yeah. That chance? It’s yours.” Forest swallowed and asked, “Does the family know about the not-quite-straight? The ones probably staring at us right now?”
“A couple of them do,” Connor confessed. “None of whom are here. But shite, I guess they know now, don’t they?”
“SO….” KANE started off, falling into step with Connor. “A guy.”
Just beyond the circle of crime tape, Forest stood with his hands shoved into his jeans. Connor’d begged one of the orderlies to toss Forest’s clothes in the wash so he’d have something clean to wear. Most of the bloodstains came out of his T-shirt, but a few spots remained, mottling the already dingy white fabric. His jeans survived pretty much intact, as did his underwear, and Connor’d spent an uncomfortable night knowing the man he lusted for lay practically naked on the bed with only a few blankets keeping his modesty.
The world felt lighter. A bit warier, but definitely lighter. Until he spotted his mother coming toward him, and then the already shy sun took the cowardly way out and hid behind a cloud, taking what little heat it’d been willing to share with it.
“A word with you, Connor Donal Morgan. Kane, you go off and make sure that boy’s safe from your sister. I’m going to have a few moments with your brother.” Brigid Morgan, scourge of Catholic school nuns and school boards alike, descended on them like a fully armed galleon cutting through pirate-infested waters. For a short woman, she always seemed larger in Connor’s mind, probably because he’d grown up with her fierce temper and even fiercer spirit.
There’d be no question of her loving him—he’d never even imagined his mother turning away from him—but oh, he’d get the hide stripped off his ass for not telling her beforehand.
Brigid Morgan hated surprises. Especially when they were about her children.
“You can take her. She’s short,” Kane whispered into Connor’s ear. “I’ll feint a block if you need it.”
“She’d hand you your ass,” Con muttered back. “Run away now, brother. I’ll hold her back so you can live. Tell your children of my bravery.”
“You brought this down on yourself, Connor. Your bravery’s not going to be what I’ll be telling my children.” Kane slapped his back. “Good luck. I’ve always wanted to be the eldest. Pity I don’t get your room.”
“You’ve already had my room.” But Connor was talking to the air. Kane deserted him in a few quick strides, his powerful long legs taking him over to Forest’s side. Brigid made it over a stack of bricks, her vibrant red curls practically crackling with energy as she reached Con’s side. “Hello, Mum.”
He didn’t know what he’d expected.
Tears certainly wasn’t it.
“Oh, don’t cry, Mum,” Connor murmured, folding his mother into his arms. “God, please. Don’t. Shite.”
She clung to him, a tiny tempest stilled by emotions Connor couldn’t begin to understand. He held her for a minute, maybe longer. Then she sniffed and mumbled into his chest.
“I can’t breathe, you git. Let me go.” He didn’t, and her arms remained tight around his waist as Brigid looked up at him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I just told Da yesterday,” Con replied softly. She always smelled the same, a brisk lemon verbena he’d come to associate with mothers in general. “I figured he’d have told you.”
“Your da would sooner cut off his own balls than share a secret that’s not his to tell.” Brigid lapsed into Gaelic. “Tell me what’s going on in that thick head of yours, or I’ll crack it open to find out.”
He laughed, despite the tears and the lump in his throat. “I didn’t… know. Well some part of me knew, but I wasn’t willing to look at that. Here, come sit down.”
They found the stairs, a quiet spot on the side of the building. Sitting beside him, Brigid took his hands, rubbing at them as she spoke, “Talk to me, Con. I don’t know where to start.”
“I don’t know what to tell you. Well, I do. Some,” Connor explained. “I went to Da because I felt like I was letting him down—you down. I wanted to be like him—maybe even in some ways, be him. I wanted to be a cop, have a wife and children. Build a good life, but when it came time for the wife bit, I guess it didn’t fit as well as I thought it would. I couldn’t find a woman I liked as much to be around. Then Forest—God, Mum, Forest. He’s a bit like Miki, but gentle, fragile in some ways, but he keeps going. All of the shite that’s rained down on him and he keeps going.”
“He’s stronger than you gave him credit for, then.” His mother laughed, a tender sound he loved. “Your da used to coddle me. Treated me like I was breakable.”
“When did he stop?”