Zane straightened and glanced at Ty, who was staring at Mara, his hazel eyes wide and his mouth hanging open.

“Thank you,” Zane said. “And I’m sorry.”

“No need for that.” She nodded and turned to Ty, hugging him in the same manner. “You should’ve told us way back then,” she said, her voice harsh with upset. “You didn’t have to leave.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Ty whispered as he hugged her.

She stepped back, taking his chin in her hand and turning his head to the side. “Is that hand broke?” she asked after she’d assured herself his face was okay.

“I’m not sure.”

“Well, serves you both right.” She took a bag of frozen broccoli from Ty and turned to leave. “Mule-headed, the both of you.”

Zane sighed and lifted the bag off Ty’s hand to examine his knuckles. “Doesn’t look too good,” he said, lowering the bag back into place over the injury. He touched Ty’s cheek, checking it for signs of redness, and tried to look at his eyes to make sure the fear was subsiding.

Ty was still shaken, but considering how terribly it could have gone, that wasn’t surprising. His parents were angrier about the fact that Ty had never told them why he’d chosen to leave home right after high school, rather than the fact that he was gay. That was a promising step. A big one.

“I think I’m going to throw up,” Ty groaned, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. Then he met Zane’s eyes and appeared to calm. After another moment, he seemed almost back to normal. “They’re right, you know. I should have done that fifteen years ago.” He took Zane’s hand in his. “Thank you for . . . letting it play out.”

“Thank Deuce.” Zane glanced over his shoulder. “I’m not sure it’s a good idea I go back in there with Earl right now. I don’t think you hit him hard enough.”

Ty turned his face into Zane’s and nodded. “Come on. We have to, sooner or later.” He didn’t let go of Zane’s hand as he pulled him toward the living room. Zane let the mild surprise buoy him.

Chester was still rocking merrily, either pleased with himself for the commotion or oblivious to the fact that he’d caused it. Deuce was sitting on the sofa with his head in his hands. Earl was still on the floor as Mara perched on the loveseat and pressed the frozen broccoli to the side of his face.

“That is one hell of a hook, son,” Earl said to Ty as soon as they appeared.

“Thank you, sir.” Ty held up their linked hands as everyone in the room watched them. “Is this a problem for anyone?”

Deuce smiled, a hint of pride in his expression as he looked over at them. Mara shook her head, though her eyes seemed to be misting over. She was upset and probably would be for a while, but Zane was confident that it had nothing to do with their relationship and everything to do with the secrets Ty had been keeping and the years they’d lost because of it.

Earl took the broccoli from her and struggled to his feet, wavering. He waited a moment, and then walked over to them. He looked from Ty to Zane and shook his head. “Don’t matter who you love, son,” he said. “As long as you do it well.” Then he held his hand out to Zane.

Zane looked at it, wondering if he could just not take it. But when Ty’s hand loosened in his and let go, he reached out and shook Earl’s, meeting the older man’s eyes, letting his expression say what he couldn’t. Earl nodded in acknowledgment of the uneasy peace. Then he moved away again, pressing the peas to his face and mumbling more about Ty’s impressive right hook.

In the rocking chair, Chester began to hum. It wasn’t a song yet, merely a cadence with a certain familiar ring to it. It was one of the songs Ty whistled and sometimes made up his own words to: “When Johnny Comes Marching Home.”

Chester began to laugh, rocking by the fireside with his shovel in his lap.

Ty bit his lip and glanced at Zane, trying not to smile. Zane rolled his eyes. “Galloping crazies.”

Ty squeezed his hand. “Well, you said you liked horses.”

Ty sat on the edge of his old bed, looking down at the cast on his hand in the soft light of the bedside lamp. In all the times he’d thrown a punch in his life, he’d rarely broken one of his own bones in the process. It was a metacarpal this time, one of the bones within his hand. And it hurt like a bitch. His entire wrist had to be immobilized, hence the bright green cast on his arm.

It was a common fistfight injury, but Ty still couldn’t believe his dad’s jaw had broken his hand.

“Figures the old man would break my hand,” he grumbled.

Zane was behind him, leaning against the headboard. “I’m going to start calling you Tytanium.”

“That’s clever.”

“I know.”

“Does it hurt that bad to hit me?” Ty asked.

“Yes.”

“Good,” Ty said, mollified as he looked back down at the cast and plucked at the loose cotton on the edge. He knew Zane wasn’t happy, but he wasn’t sure what he could do about it. He glanced over his shoulder again. “It’s sort of funny.”

Zane’s eyes were dark and his face was expressionless, but one corner of his mouth curled up. “Why is that?”

“Oh, come on. The one time I take a swing at him, and he still comes out better than I do? There’s funny in that. Like Charlie Brown with the football.”

Zane smiled a little and rolled his eyes. He reached up to touch Ty, sliding his fingers along the base of his skull into his hair.

Ty leaned back into the touch, closing his eyes as relief washed over him. He couldn’t shake the sense of impending doom that was always under the surface, but he’d learned to live with it. The only things that mattered were that Zane was here with him and his parents had taken the news infinitely better than he’d ever imagined.

They had every right to be pissed at him, not only for lying to them, but also for running. He turned and crawled toward Zane, stretching out to lay his head in Zane’s lap.

“I always thought there’d be this huge weight lifted off my chest after they found out.”

Zane’s hand moved to stroke through Ty’s hair. “You’ve been carrying that weight a long time, Ty. It’ll take a while not to feel it as much.”

“Maybe you’re right.” He looked at Zane, reaching up to touch his face. “Talk to me, darlin’.”

Zane smiled. “I love the way you say that.” His fingers drifted across Ty’s forehead. “What do you want me to talk about?”

“Don’t be dense. What do you think about all this?”

Zane looked down at the quilt for a long moment, his lips compressing. “I’m angry.”

“I know you are,” Ty said gently. “Talk to me about it instead of taking it out on me later.”

Zane huffed, but they both knew it was valid. “I’ve never liked the relationship you have with your dad. It’s always seemed to me he was more a gunny than a father. But it’s not my place, you know? To criticize him.” Zane paused. “But watching him hurt you? That’s unacceptable to me. Possibly unforgivable.”

Ty nodded. He knew that his relationship with his father, outwardly, hit all of Zane’s hot buttons. But Earl was a good father; he had nothing but happy memories of growing up. Maybe Earl was more of a gunny than a dad, but it had worked. Sure, there was strain there, but he’d challenge anyone to show him a perfect relationship between father and son. Tonight had been the first time Earl had ever raised a hand to one of his boys.

“It’s . . . complicated,” he offered, even knowing it would sound weak to Zane’s ears.

Zane’s brow creased, but his anger was mixed with dismay as he spoke. “But you’re afraid of him, Ty. How can that be right?”

Ty sat up, looking at Zane in surprise. “I’m not afraid of him.” But there were things that made him almost ill to think of: Knowing he might have disappointed his father. Seeing shame or contempt or any number of other reactions he’d imagined when he let his father down. That all added up to making Ty tense when he thought too hard about it. All he’d ever wanted was to make Earl proud of him; he’d spent thirty years trying. “And at the same time I am terrified of him,” he realized as he looked at the USMC signet ring on his finger.

Zane shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know what . . . to do. It tears me up to see you dealing with this, and I can’t help.”

Ty sighed and turned to sit cross-legged on the bed beside Zane’s hip. “He’s my dad, Zane. I don’t need you to do anything. You don’t have to protect me. You don’t have to defend me—or us—to him.”

“I can’t just not feel the need to protect you, Ty. That’s not going to happen. You’d probably better not expect us to ever be much in the way of friends.”

Ty smiled and patted Zane’s knee. “Dad can take care of himself. You don’t have to be buddies.”

Zane gave an unconvincing nod.

Ty turned himself around to lay his head back in Zane’s lap. “He’s been angry with me for a long time. They never could understand why I left. And I could never tell them, not really.”

“Sometimes telling doesn’t help,” Zane said. After a pause, he added, “I told Mother what a great opportunity the FBI would be for me, and to this day she just can’t, or won’t, understand why I left home.”

Ty looked up at him, trying to see his eyes. “What happened with your family, Zane?”

Zane answered with a heavy sigh. “My family wasn’t like yours.”

“Is that why you left Texas and never looked back?”

Zane was quiet for a moment. “I wasn’t willing to do the job I was born for. I wasn’t wanted there unless I intended to take over the ranch.”

“Zane. I doubt that’s true.”

“You don’t know them, Ty. My sister and my dad are good people, but Mother . . . she scares me. I hate being around her.”

“Why?”

“Because . . . I have a hard time finding anything I like about her, and she reminds me of me.”

Ty sat up to look at him. He had his eyes closed, jaw clenched. Ty grabbed a fistful of his shirt and pulled him up to sit, then took Zane’s chin in his hand and forced Zane to look at him. “Zane . . . you cannot possibly tell me that there is another one of you anywhere.”

Zane gave a weak laugh and wrapped his arms around Ty. Ty turned his face into Zane’s and held him close.

“I love you, Zane. Even if you are obnoxious.”

“You’re an ass.”

Ty smirked and turned his head for a kiss. A knock at the door interrupted them, and Ty sighed. “Yeah?” he called. Zane let his arms drop so he wasn’t holding Ty, but he didn’t scoot away.

The door opened with a creak, and Deuce poked his head in. “Just wanted to see how you were doing. You okay?”

Ty nodded.

“I slipped some . . . surprises in the tea after y’all left. Ma and Dad should both sleep ’til noon. I might have killed Grandpa, we’ll see in the morning.”

Ty laughed. “Thank you, Deacon.”

“Least I can do for my big brother.”

“How were they after we left?” Zane asked. He and Ty had gone to the ER to get Ty’s hand taken care of and hadn’t seen anyone when they’d gotten back.

Deuce pursed his lips. “Ma’s been crying. She kept saying if she’d only known, she’d have stopped you from leaving.” He shrugged. “Dad, I can’t read.”

“I’m thinking Dad will be easier to handle in the long run,” Ty said to Deuce, who nodded in agreement. Zane gave Ty a look that said he didn’t believe it, but he didn’t voice an opinion.

“Well.” Deuce smiled as he moved into the room. Ty stood when he got closer. “I’m proud of you. Both of you. Even if it wasn’t your doing to begin with, you did it nonetheless.”

Ty nodded jerkily, surprised by his reaction to his brother’s words. Emotions welled in him that he didn’t think he was ready for.

Deuce wrapped him up in a hug, his eyes squeezed shut, and when he spoke to Ty in a low whisper, his voice wavered. “You’ll always be my hero, Beaumont.”

Ty gave a choked laugh and patted the back of Deuce’s head. Deuce pulled away and cleared his throat, his eyes misting. He stepped over to give Zane a hug as well, and Ty had to turn away to wipe at his eyes with the back of his sleeve.

“How the hell did Chester come up with that?” Zane asked.

Deuce laughed and Ty just shook his head, scanning all the photos lining the walls of his old room as he wiped his eyes.

“You’ll have to ask Grandpa that,” Deuce told Zane. “Lord only knows what he sees when people forget he’s there.”

“I still think he uses that hearing aid as a listening device,” Ty muttered.

Deuce laughed and smiled at them both. “You guys okay? Feels kind of heavy in here.”

Ty nodded and glanced at Zane, who shrugged.

“Something happen I need to know about?” Deuce asked.

“Zane has mommy issues.”

Zane reached out and thumped Ty on the arm, hard.

“Interesting,” Deuce said, cocking his head at Zane. He looked like a bird of prey preparing to swoop in.

“No, it’s not. I’m just coming to the realization that my mother is a bitch.”

Deuce raised an eyebrow. “Interesting.”