Chapter 1

                                                                                Fall 2007

                I taught you to fight and to fly. What more is there?

                J.M. Barrie

Brian awoke in a sweat, the lingering nightmare wrapping like coils around his chest making it hard to breathe. They're getting worse. Gooseflesh covered his skin and he didn't like that outward sign of weakness. He had convinced himself for years he was rid of those dreams. They had become so infrequent, as to be almost forgettable. Except that now they weren't, and were dangerously close to becoming the rule rather than the exception. Leaving the bed, he walked naked to the adjoining bath and turned on the shower, then leaned in close to the mirror over the sink to study his reflection. His hazel eyes were clouded and the pupils were dilated. He could still read the fear written there and in the tightness around his mouth. He had not slept well in months, telling himself it was the stresses of owning his own company and moving to New York City, but he knew better. The new offices of Kinnetik were up and running, and thanks to Cynthia, needed very little oversight. He stepped into the shower and after setting the spray to massage, let the very hot water do its job on his shoulders.

Rubbing a hand over his face he admitted to himself that he would probably not be able to keep it a secret from Justin for much longer. He had some decisions to make and knew he had only made it worse for himself by moving here. He should have opened the new branch and then gone home to Pittsburgh, letting the relationship with Justin run its course and die a natural death. But, like his other addictions, it was hard to let it go. Admitting that Justin was indeed an addiction had been a hard pill to swallow. He represented life, and happiness, and the idealism that only the very young and/or well -heeled could truly have. Brian had never had that, and was drawn to it like a moth to flame. Hovering in its light until he got too close, risking smothering the flame, and being burned himself.

He shampooed his hair and decided that, for all concerned, he needed to do what had to be done whether he liked it or not. He had already delayed for too long and now he had to act or he would lose his chance. It should have come with Justin's flight to New York, but like any addiction, the temptation had been irresistible and Brian kicked himself in the ass for being persuaded by sunny smiles and laughing blue eyes.

Turning off the taps, he wrapped a towel around his waist and sauntered through the penthouse apartment to the living area and the coffee table where he had left his smokes. Pulling one out and lighting it he looked out the wall of windows at the city as it came out of night and bloomed before him. Most people thought he did it to feel superior, but for Brian, the bigger the vista the more he felt connected and grounded. The big picture, for him, encompassed all that he could see and his dreams filled in what eyes could not. He was irritated at himself for putting off what should have been in motion by now, and the fleeting images of Justin's face, so in love, reminded him why it wasn't. Love sucks, and his heart pinched with the thought of having to let go. But Brian had always prided himself on assessing a situation and making the right decision, even if he was the one left broken.

Forcibly ejecting those thoughts he finished his cigarette and snuffed it out in the ashtray on the sill. Letting the towel drop he stood in the first rays of morning and reveled in himself. Stretching like a feline and admiring the way his tanned skin flowed over smooth muscle. He reminded himself that he had to spend a little more time on the treadmill today as punishment for his decadent dessert the night before. When the visual of where he had eaten that delight from came to mind, he smiled and went about getting dressed for work.

As he was leaving, he turned, and assessed the apartment briefly as he always did and noted that everything was in its place and the crisp clean environment both calmed and pleased him in a way that he was reluctant to define, and even less interested in analyzing. Shutting the door and locking it he went downstairs to be driven to the office by the service he now owned, and once inside the sleek town car he pulled out his cell to call Justin and ask if he could make time for lunch at his office.

*************************************************

Justin was still riding high on the success of his first solo showing the night before and was still amazed that it had sold out. He and Brian had celebrated by stopping in at his favorite bakery on the way home and ordering several sinful delicacies that had made the exploits that followed both delicious and messy. He was still wearing a self-satisfied leer when Brian called and asked him to lunch. His heart flipped happily and he wondered if Brian could hear the lust still coursing through his body when he agreed. Of course he could. He was Brian after all. And Justin knew his thoughts were caught out when Brian's voice dropped two sultry octaves and said "later."

Justin didn't know if he was going to be able to wait that long. Maybe I should just jack off a few times before I go so it's not so easy for him. Make him work for it for once. Wouldn't that be interesting? Chuckling to himself he went back to the huge canvas and gave in to his euphoria.

At eleven he stopped working and grabbed a shower in the tiny bathroom in the far corner of the studio. Brian had purchased the space shortly after coming to New York and seeing the far less adequate space that Justin had been working in and barely affording. Justin had half- heartedly declined the generosity but Brian had argued that a larger space allowed for more work to get done and he was investing in Justin's future. Once he'd found out that Brian had already signed the deal on the property he had no qualms about moving in. It was an old factory building that had been gutted to the bare brick and though it was two stories tall there was only the ground floor with the upper structure given over to windows that had vented the fumes of whatever had been manufactured there back in the day. Justin loved it and the man that had provided it. Brian had been correct in that the larger area allowed him to work on several pieces at once and therefore be more productive.

Toweling his hair he looked out the window at the sprawling expanse of Brian's latest creation. The man was a genius. He had bought this decrepit piece of real estate from the city for a song and with generous tax benefits. It had been an eyesore, and the powers that be had allowed the sale with minimum fuss just so it could be someone else's problem. The first thing he had done was make sure that the studio met all of Justin's requirements. Then had all the detritus of decay removed, in some cases with a bulldozer. The actual plot was over six acres and was crisscrossed with railroad tracks. The back of the lot, where the studio was, had originally been a way station for changing and filling railcars while the front had been a beautiful train station built in the mid 1800's. It had been almost unsalvageable but Brian had pumped a huge amount of money into the project and had even hired some of the people living in the area for most of the manual labor. He hired experts in restoration and when necessary, flew in artisans skilled enough to replicate what could not be restored. He had set up a loose apprentice program so that while everyone was working, those that wanted to learn were paired up with those that were skilled. It had worked out very well and many of them were now employed by one or another of Brian's companies.

Justin smiled at that thought. Brian now owned at least a dozen companies he knew of and probably more that he didn't. His fierce attention to detail and utter contempt for the way his project was being handled had led to Brian taking the owner of the restoration construction company to court. The company itself had come highly recommended but, Brian being Brian, had done some research on his own after one of the independent artisans had come to see him. His name was Alban Templeton and Brian had taken a liking to him almost immediately. He was stick thin and wore his long gray hair in a ponytail and his even longer beard in two braids that hung halfway down his chest. He came right out and told Brian that he thought the materials for the building were being downgraded where possible and the foreman and maybe even the owner were pocketing the difference. He had said that it was not his place to judge, but that he had been hired to craft some of the more intricate ornamentations and that meant certain very expensive materials. When he had been given inferior substitutes it had piqued his interest and he made discreet inquiries among some of the other artisans. Then he'd come straight to Brian and without preamble said "Yer bein' screwed Mr. Kinney, and I know a smart man when I see one so no offense meant. But if'n ya know what to be lookin' for ya could miss it just the same. Just thought ya might want to know." So Brian had researched and talked to the other artisans and then hired a top notch attorney. The lawsuit settled out of court for an exorbitant sum, bankrupting the owner. The man's very public embarrassment was proof that no one fucked with Brian Kinney. He had then acquired the company's holdings at auction and rehired any employees wanting to come back. Six months later, when he was sure it would stay solvent he invited the employees to partner him in ownership. They had agreed and the project was done in record time. When asked about it for an article in the Times, Brian had deflected any praise by saying he knew nothing about construction work and the business was in better hands with the employees and his involvement was merely advisory.

The finished building was christened "Kinney Track" three weeks ago with a party that had been attended by some of the most elite of moneyed society as well as the lowest paid employee. All had rubbed shoulders, conversed, and danced in what turned out to be front page news the next morning.

With the new offices of Kinnetik housed safely inside its vaulted glass ceiling, Brian had turned his attention to other parts of the property. Plans had been drawn up for a mid-sized luxury hotel to house any current or potential clients while they were consulting with Kinnetik. The art and creative departments were currently inside the station, as they called it, but Brian had foreseen the possibility of growing large enough, that the space would be needed for more offices and the creative end would need its own facility. Hence the two new construction sites on the back edge of the property. It was a big undertaking, but that was Brian. If you can think it, you can do it, and he was adamant that the new buildings be finished in less than six months from now, and damned if it didn't look like he would get his way.

Justin noted he'd been standing there longer than he had planned and jerked on a clean, but still paint splattered, pair of jeans. Slipping into a pair of canvas loafers and pulling on a faded tee he took off across the remaining railroad tracks towards the station and the brilliance of a man he could not get enough of.

****************************************************

Brian's office was the only completely soundproofed space inside the station. It was nestled just under the curve of glass panes that made up the roof itself. The original structure had been some kind of overseers post, but he had had that torn down and his new office constructed at the same level but on a much larger scale. Cynthia and Theodore each had one of their own to either side of his and iron walkways connected them in what should have been an eyesore but strangely kept the beauty of the rail industry intact.

Brian smiled when he saw Justin realize he might be late and set the binoculars in his drawer before turning back to the window. The prize in the box, for Brian, had been being able to construct his office in this specific spot in the building. It made sense from the ground floor and had been the original placement to begin with but upon moving in he realized that the elevation and the alignment with the studio, gave him the perfect vantage point to watch Justin whenever he wanted.

He saw the studio door swing open, and bright sunlight gleamed in messy blonde hair. Justin took off at a run and Brian let Cynthia know he was off the grid for the next two hours. He set his desk to look like he had actually been working, focused on his computer screen and waited.

It was not long, and Brian could hear footsteps running up the iron spiral staircase towards him. His office door was flung open and slammed shut and when he looked up, it was to see Justin launch across his desk and land in his lap.

Brian was not surprised when his face was covered with kisses and his tie disappeared. Warm hands sought his flesh and discarded anything in the way. He was rock hard already and together they removed the rest of each other's clothes. Justin could not be still, his tongue and hands roamed over tanned skin and Brian watched, mesmerized by the play of light on dark.

"So what's for lunch?"

"Mmm, I think I'll eat your cock first," Brian set Justin on the edge of his desk and pushed him backwards until he was leaning back on his arms. Sitting in his chair he positioned himself between pale thighs and licked his way to the prize while guiding feet to the armrests. He's gonna beg before we're done. He took the entire length of Justin's dick in his mouth and watched as his eyes closed and he drew in a shaky breath. Brian gave all his attention to bringing his lover to the brink and when Justin's body gave the signal that he was going to cum, he abruptly stopped and leaned back into his chair.

Justin's eyes popped open and the bewilderment was evident. "Why'd you stop?"

Brian said nothing, just using his hands to turn him around laying him across the desk and once he was settled, sat in his chair again, admiring the view of Justin's ass. A few seconds passed. When the blonde head turned to question, Brian grabbed an ass cheek in each hand and squeezed hard enough to bruise. Don't question, just feel. Then he buried his face between them, using his tongue to drive Justin crazy with need again, while stroking his back as it arched. They were both panting when Justin came close to release and Brian stopped again. Grunting in frustration, Justin made to turn around, but was shoved back down and held there by the hand in the middle of his shoulders. Neither gentle nor mean, just firm. Stay.

Brian donned a condom one-handed, stood with his dick pressing against pale ass and bent so he could touch Justin with his entire body and the sensation that filled him was intoxicating. Heart pounding, emotion swelling, he nuzzled his face into that sweet spot of neck he liked so much and slowly pressed himself into Justin's body, inch by glorious inch, until they were one. Staying there motionless, until he knew he had his lover's attention. He breathed into his neck, "I love you", marveling at glistening blue eyes that reflected the same. He withdrew on a smooth glide and allowed his hands to caress and linger where they would while he reentered with the same effortless stroke, angling slightly to make sure pleasure was given but did not increase the pace. Just smooth riding and gentle touches telling with his body all the things he could not say aloud. Worshipping the man beneath him and making a memory to hold close when his arms were empty, committing this interlude to the secret vault deep inside. It contained only the best of their time together. When he knew Justin was at the brink he allowed himself one last kiss and let himself go, synchronicity at its best. Sated and loose, they stayed there until Justin noticed the aroma of food, and the moment was gone.

                                 ********************************************

Emmett and Michael were at the Liberty Diner tearing through the newspaper. Both were anxious to see the review of Justin's show and were not surprised when Debbie managed to be back at their table by the time they found it. She slid into the booth behind them peering over their shoulders as they read.

"Justin Taylor, an up and comer, showed both passion and ability in his earlier works upon his arrival in New York. He was well received by the art world and we all anticipated his first solo show."

"Aww, isn't that nice?" Emmett smiled.

Michael kept reading aloud.

"But I am unsure if the pieces I saw last night, can compare to the standard those earlier works set. While aesthetically pleasing, they lack the raw emotion and sexual intensity that we have come to expect from his work."

The three of them looked at each other, no one was smiling anymore.

"One wonders if Justin had not been so busy setting up house, if his work would have lived up to the promise we were given a year ago. Since the show did sell out, it begs a question. Was the show a success because Justin Taylor art is great, or because Brian Kinney marketing is better?"

Emmett refolded the paper and slid it to the other side of the table like it was contaminated.

"Jesus," Debbie blurted. "He made Justin sound like some housewife with a hobby." Not knowing what else to say she moved off to wait on another table.

"Do you think I should call him, Em?" Michael sounded like it was the last thing he wanted to do.

"I don't know sweetie. If he hasn't seen it yet, you probably don't want to be the first to tell him. Besides, Justin never holds back when he's got something to say, so I think in this case, silence is golden, hmm?"

"I guess so. Do you think Brian has seen it?" Emmett just gave him a look that said, you think he hasn't?

Finishing lunch without another word they settled the bill and parted. Emmett was off to meet with a new client about a birthday party, and Michael to the airport to meet Ben in Philadelphia. Both of them with mixed feelings about what to say if Justin should call.

***********************************************************

As it happened, it was Ted that unknowingly broke the silence. Justin was back in the studio working on a very large painting he had started that morning when sleep and had eluded him. Music filled the room and the he sang along with the song "Happy" as he completed the base color on the canvas. Rinsing his brushes he set them to drain when the phone rang. Using the remote in his pocket to turn off the stereo he answered.

"Hey, Ted, how'sit going?" Justin asked while opening a cola and swigging the contents.

"Uh, fine, I guess, um thanks for asking." Ted was a little confused by Justin's sunny tone.

"If you're looking for Brian, he's not here. I left him in the office a coupla hours ago and I don't think he had a meeting but I'll give him a message if you want."

"Uh, no no I wasn't calling for Brian. I was actually calling for you, to uh, you know, see if you were okay. But you seem to be fine so I'll let you go.."

"Why would anything be wrong Ted? The show was great! Lunch was greater! And I'm walkin' on sunshine!"

"Oh, well, okay then. I'll let you go then if you're sure you're not upset about.." he trailed off, not wanting to bring it up.

"Why would I be upset?" No answer. "Teddy?"

"Well I thought, ah, since the review wasn't, you know, favorable, that uh, you might want to talk to someone about it." Ted was wishing that a hole would open under him and extricate him from the situation.

"I haven't read it yet. I just figured since everything sold that it would be good." He sat on a stool and searched the web for the article. It was a good thing that Ted made an excuse to get off the phone because Justin set it down while he read. Then he read it again. By the fourth time he conceded that it was not going to change and his disappointment shrouded him. Hurt brought tears he refused to let fall and slowly it turned to anger when he realized that Brian had most likely read it first thing this morning. The more he thought about their lunch together the more he felt like Brian had been consoling. It made sense and it pissed him off. Why hadn't he said anything? He had to be pissed too, right? He should be pissed!

Justin got his wallet and keys then called Cynthia to ask her to tell Brian he was going home.

********************************************************

Brian was already at home and sitting at his desk when Justin stormed in. He quickly hit send on the document he had written so he couldn't change his mind and shut the computer down. He figured this was going to be ugly but there was no help for it. Justin had to be handled carefully if he was going to pull this off in a way that wouldn't have the younger man coming back. He carried his glass of whiskey and the bottle toward the living room, but stopped dead in the shadow of the door. The tableau that was unfolding was mindboggling. Justin had brought home three tricks and was currently stripping in jerking motions while his companions brought hands and mouths to exposed flesh. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that Justin was in a mood to burn through his emotions the old fashioned Kinney way. By fucking. Repeatedly, if all indications were correct. So now he knows.

Brian refilled his glass and sat on the floor with legs outstretched to watch in silence. Justin pulled a handful of condoms and a tube of lube out of his pocket and handed one to the guy on his left without even looking at him. Once Justin was encased, he bent number one over the back of the couch, lubed him, and practically snarled when he penetrated. It was hard and fast, Brian could not look away and was unsure why he wanted to. Justin could only be seen in the mass of writhing bodies in quick flashes of his milky skin. It was over quickly and Justin tossed the condom on the floor, immediately replacing it with another. The first man was replaced by the second, while the third sat below their spread legs and sucked number two's dick while number one went back to touching Justin and began stroking himself. Justin's growls were punctuated by the lusty moans of his guests, harsh breathing a testament to the prowess of Brian's disciple. Head thrown back he looked to be begging the god's for something and he shouted out when he came. The condom hit the floor. Brian refilled his glass. All hands and mouths were on his partner now, teamed up to bring on another erection. Justin's eyes were closed, completely engrossed in sensation and unaware of his audience. He grabbed and yanked at his companions and they reciprocated the rough play. It wasn't long before he had number three bucking and panting out his release all over number two's chest.

Christ he's beautiful. And hurting over the review.

Brian forwent the glass this time and swigged straight from the bottle, hoping to be drunk enough not to care about anything, most of all Justin's feelings. He had to do this. He knew it, but tilting his head back to the wall he allowed that he didn't want to. Taking another drink he watched as Justin angrily picked up clothes, tossing them at the three amigos, not caring who they belonged to as he herded them towards the door, slamming it behind them. Prowling the living room, lighting a cigarette and muttering under his breath he barely caught the movement. He whirled and focused in on Brian as he stood up awkwardly in the doorframe.

"The student becomes the master. Well done grasshopper." Lifting the bottle in a mock toast, downing another shot.

"You knew didn't you." Not a question, and no answer forthcoming.

"Why didn't you say something?" Justin demanded. "Why didn't…."

"Because I didn't want to, alright? Besides, who cares anyway?" He drained the bottle but held on to it like a lifeline.

"You don't care. Of course you don't care. You're Brian fucking Kinney who doesn't care. Doesn't that get old?" He could not have hidden the bitterness in his voice even had he wanted to. Brian just wanted to hold him, make everything better, knew that he couldn't. He could see the anguish that rode high on Justin's cheeks as he seemed to come to some internal conclusion. With his anger evident in every motion he dressed and left without saying anything else.

Brian just stood there, knowing he should let it be, but feeling that he owed an apology and not sure what his next step would be. Belatedly realizing that the three amigos had born a resemblance, on the surface at least to himself, the only conclusion available became obvious. Justin had not been fucking away his feelings, he had been punishing surrogates. Brian threw the empty bottle at the wall with a curse and found no relief in its shattered remains. So he did what he did best. He opened another bottle and put up another wall around his heart.

*****************************************************

Two hours later, he was so intoxicated that he barely comprehended the ringing phone. The answering machine picked up and he heard Cynthia's voice.

"Brian, I know you're there, pick up the phone." She sounded irritated. Too bad.

"Fine, brood. It's what you do best. Okay, probably second best." The minx. She knew him well. "Are you sure this is what you want to send? I mean, seriously?" She sighed in resignation. "Alright, I'll send it in but make sure to wear your big boy pants because the shit just got real. And Brian, I'm sorry it had to.."

Brian jerked the cord out of the wall before he could hear the rest of what she was going to say. He didn't want sorry, or pity, or anything else that made him feel less…..whatever.

His mind was trapped in an endless loop of Justin and the three amigos. Fuck, he was hard just thinking about it, and how fucked up was that? He knew Justin was pissed and he was responsible for the hurt. That last part had been unanticipated and he hated feeling like he should apologize. Fuck that shit.

His cell rang, and because he had been thinking of Justin, he answered hoping that his thoughts had influenced reality.

"Hey, Bri" no such luck.

"I'm on my way out Theodore, whatever it is can wait 'til morning." He slurred.

"Actually I called because I thought you might want a friendly ear…"

"I don't want your ear, or any other of your friendly parts." Brian sneeringly mocked. He hung up before the older man could launch into one of his well-meaning and often too insightful speeches. He felt bad for about half a second before acknowledging that Ted knew he was an asshole and let it go. Pocketing the cell his keys, he left.

**********************************************************

Ted wasn't sure how to proceed. He was still in his office at the station and had been closing his windows when he saw Justin return to the studio across the expanse of the rail yard. He waited a few minutes thinking the youngster must have forgotten something and would be leaving again soon. After an hour he concluded it wasn't in the cards, and decided to call Brian. Figuring correctly they had had some kind of tiff and thinking he could make up for his earlier conversation with Justin by being there for Brian, should he want to talk about it. Convoluted, sure, but it made perfect sense to Ted, since he felt he owed Brian for just about everything. His sobriety, his job, and the security only a large bank account and portfolio could manage. Brian had also taught him more about advertising than Ted had ever thought he would need to know. Looking back on it now, Ted was aware that Brian had been grooming him to take over the well-established accounts that needed little maintenance, while leaving the newer and prospective clients for the dynamic duo of Brian and Cynthia.

So he made the call to offer a shoulder to cry on. Not that Brian would ever cry. Ted scoffed to himself.

He had barely squeaked out a greeting before Brian had drunkenly cut him off. Oh well, can't say I didn't try. He turned the lights off and locked his door intent on getting home. Descending the spiral stairs he decided to call Emmett and see what his thoughts were about the drama Ted was sure would come.

***********************************************************

Emmett was doing all he could to make a dignified escape from his new client. Her name was Margaret Morgan (of the Morgans), whatever in the hell that was supposed to mean. She was in her late seventies and under the expertly applied make up, looked every day of those years. She was perfectly coiffed, and her clothing certainly spoke of quality, as did her stately home and the parlor in which he was currently prisoned. This initial meeting should not have taken longer than an hour, but was running up on three. He didn't really have anywhere else to be, but he was becoming more anxious as time wore on. Margaret seemed to have an opinion about every single aspect of the birthday party she wanted to throw for her great granddaughter. Emmett figured since she was so adamant about every minutia, she should forget him and do the party herself. When he had pointed that out, politely, she had tittered, saying "Oh no dear, I don't know anything about what's popular these days or what a sixteen year old would want."

She had then launched into a detailed monologue about her youth that had encompassed thirty years, four marriages, and the last two hours of his life. He politely drank his coffee, nodding when he figured it was appropriate, and wished upon a star that he had never come here in the first place. Thinking he might be able to slip out unnoticed if he went to the bathroom, he set his cup down and was about to ask directions when his phone chirped.

"Excuse me please, but I really need to take this call." He made a beeline for the front hall's relative privacy.

"Oh my God, Ted, you just saved my life. I can't really talk right now but I'll call you when I get home okay, but right now I just need to get out of here." He stepped back into the parlor to let Margaret know that he had to leave, beating a retreat as fast as his legs could politely carry him.

**************************************************************

Brian quietly entered the studio but stood in the shadows by the door preferring for the moment to watch Justin work. A secret pleasure he had never shared and one that he would be living without all too soon. A deep sense of loss settled over him and he rubbed his own fingers out of habit. It was a self -comforting gesture from childhood that he had yet to overcome. Music blared from the stereo in hard metal that seemed to suit the artist and his frame of mind. He's so easy to read. Was I ever that open? Was I ever that young? No, hence his addiction with the man. He could not get enough of the love and attention that Justin showered on him every day. It almost made him feel worthy. Almost made him forget all the reasons he wasn't. Could almost make him forget the plan, and had for far too long. Seven years had seen the younger man grow in so many ways and in others not at all. It's my fault. I've held him back. He's angry and hurt because he senses it, but can't quite know it yet. So he watched.

*******************************************************************

The last words of the review repeated incessantly in Justin's head causing his gut to clench every time.

"Was the show a success because Justin Taylor art is great, or because Brian Kinney marketing is better?"

Jesus. That hurt. Even here, in the art world, he was in Brian's shadow, an accessory. He had a hard time reconciling his love for the man and a need to have his own identity. Wasn't that why he had come here in the first place and why Brian had resisted following for almost six months? Shit! Looking back on it, Brian had probably seen it coming and damn if he hadn't been right again. Justin's foul mood twisted itself into anger at himself for insisting that Brian handle his promotion, and at Brian for foreseeing the results and doing it anyway. He paused then lighting a cigarette, and tossed the pack on the worktable behind him. Crossing his arms he looked at nothing in particular trying to objectively see the events of the day clearly. It had started out wonderful, turning to blissful at lunch. Brian had held nothing back in their lovemaking. God, how Brian hates that word. But Justin had felt it just the same. No fucking today. Justin had greedily taken the gift that he had been given and gloried in the fact he had been given it in the first place. Accepting that Brian did not give of himself that way very often was hard to do and left him craving more, making the betrayal he felt so much more profound. Maybe he didn't know. How could he have known and then made love to me like that? He's Brian, for fuck's sake, of course he knew! And now he was back where he started. Anger, hurt, and betrayal burning bitter in his gut and wishing he could do something about it.

Justin went back to work ignoring the paint that splattered him. No matter how he went over it in his mind he always ended up in the same place. Frustration lined his face. Turning back to pick up a different color, he noticed Brian standing by the door. His heart leapt with hope, his mind refused to give in to it. Ignoring those beautifully penetrating and questioning eyes he moved back to the canvas and furiously applied the black paint he was so fond of, body practically vibrating rage.

So that's the way of it, Brian thought. Not happening. I'm not going to allow it. He doesn't want to talk, that's fine with me.

He pushed off the wall where he was leaning, stripped his clothes and left them on a nearby crate. He stalked up behind Justin and grabbed the hair on the back of his head while wrapping his other arm around his torso. Tugging the shorter man's head to the side, exposing his neck, he bent and attacked with lips and teeth while he stroked Justin's cock through his pants. Justin's body stiffened as if to pull away, denying Brian's attention, but Brian was not going to allow that. He stroked firmly and bit down on the muscle at the base of Justin's neck just hard enough to sting. Are you listening? Justin stilled. Brian tugged on his hair again and shoved a hand in Justin's pocket pulling out the ever present condom. He pressed it into a paint smeared hand with an accompanying squeeze. He was clearing a space in the middle of the worktable when Justin whirled around ready to fight. He didn't get a chance to say anything, it fact couldn't think of anything to say when Brian supplicated himself over the table. Justin took Brian's elbow and tried to change their positions, but Brian kissed him, hard, leaning their foreheads together briefly. You can be angry if you want. I can take it. Will take it, if that is what you need from me. He stretched forward across the surface and gripped the far edge.

Justin saw this for what it was. A way to get the satisfaction the three earlier tricks hadn't come close to achieving. He wanted to punish and Brian was going to let him. He didn't think about why, he just freed his dick and rolled on the condom. Brian inched his hips slightly closer to him and Justin smacked his ass hard enough for Brian to flinch. When he didn't say anything, Justin took it as a sign that he was in control and power fueled the anger he felt swelling inside. He sucked a couple of his fingers, pushed them into that perfect ass, working it quickly open. Brian was practiced at relaxing for his own comfort, but Justin's first thrust sent him balls deep. He sucked in air through clenched teeth and when he reached back to touch Justin, his ass was smacked again and his hand forced back to the table edge. Justin gripped Brian's shoulder in his right hand and jerked him back to meet the second thrust, and the third, and the fourth, setting a pace that had sweat running in rivulets down his body and both of them panting in exertion. Brian's white knuckled grip was the only indication of his turmoil as he stayed motionless with his head averted. The act was purely sexual, animalistic, and lacking Justin's usual finesse. The force of his fucking had the table rocking and some of the paints spilling, pooling where they met Brian's skin. Justin placed his left hand in the colorful mess, and still thrusting, marked his man. He was giddy with ownership when he left a spread fingered handprint on a tanned shoulder blade that turned into a smear running all the way down Brian's back to the indent just above his ass. Seeing his messy paint on Brian's clean perfection sent him over the edge of climax and most of his fury drained away with his release, leaving him with a vague sense of self-doubt and a healthy dose of reality.

Unable, or unwilling, to look Brian in the face just yet, Justin went to the bathroom to take care of the condom. He spent a few minutes cleaning up but paused on the way back to watch Brian light a cigarette, drawing on it deep enough to have the tip glowing brightly, then watched, as he exhaled a cloud of smoke, absently rubbing a palm over his chest as he leaned back against the table crossing his legs at the ankles.

Coming to stand in front of Brian, Justin felt the tears well in his eyes when he saw the damage he had caused. Brian's entire torso was chafed an obscene red from the rough surface of the table and his own inconsiderate pace. But that wasn't the worst of it. Brian was holding his arm at a weird angle over his hips trying to hide something. So he stepped closer, gently pulling it away. Brian continued to smoke, letting his lover see the ramifications of his anger, a lesson in consequences. Justin let out a broken sigh at the hard line already beginning to bruise that spanned from hipbone to hipbone. It finally dawned on him then that Brian had left himself vulnerable by leaving his hips off the table in deference to Justin's shorter height. The tears fell then, silently and Justin trembled. Blue eyes finally sought out hazel, willing to take the rebuke but found none. A strong hand touched the side of his face and pulled him in until their foreheads met. When his breathing slowed he looked up to Brian's face. I'm so sorry. He kissed the redness at Brian's collarbone. Brian took Justin's chin between thumb and index finger and turned his head until they were eye to eye again. I know. I understand. Have I taught you nothing? Sorry is for shit. With a cocky grin he put out the cigarette and pulled Justin into a full, firm embrace ignoring the pain the contact caused. He played a few minutes, twirling golden locks with his fingers and when he surmised recriminations were over asked half smiling, "Hungry?"

The head nestled below his chin nodded, and he felt rather than saw the answering grin, "Better have it delivered. We look like a couple of nutcases."

*******************************************************

Emmett wanted nothing more than a hot bath and a Xanax closely followed by the welcoming comfort of his bed and eight hours of sleep. Knowing he needed to call Ted back he let himself into his apartment and came to the conclusion that phone calls would have to wait until morning. Calvin had let himself in and was waiting, naked, on the chaise in the living room in full view of the front door with a very impressive boner.

"Guess who's back in town, and dying for your attention?" Calvin drawled provocatively, his eyes full of sin.

Emmett closed the door, setting his bag down "Well, I had planned a bath, but I could do with a little southern comfort first." Smiling for the first time in hours he thought how grateful he was to have a fuck buddy. They were friends, sure, but they had quickly come to terms with the fact that a relationship was not what either of them wanted. So they went about their lives, hooking up as time and circumstances permitted and went on their merry ways with no nasty side effects.

Emmett figured Brian had had it right all along, and finally understood the freedom that no attachments allowed him to have. No one demanding to be listened to, or coddled. No one making plans for him or butting their nose in his business. Emmett did what he wanted when he wanted, and walking over to Calvin, decided he wanted sex right now. Grinning from ear to ear he got naked. There would be time for a bath later. He would definitely need one by then.

*********************************************************

It was almost midnight when Ben and Michael both realized that neither of them were going to fall asleep. They'd been tossing around in bed trying to get comfortable for over an hour. The hotel room in which they were staying was well appointed, but comfort was not the issue.

"If you want to stay here tomorrow, I'll understand." Ben offered quietly, hoping his husband would agree.

"No, of course not. I want to be there for you and support you." Michael sounded a little too enthusiastic.

"Well it's the last one before we go home, and if you wanted to stay here and get us ready, we could leave as soon as it's over." Ben didn't say that he really didn't want to do the interview anymore.

"This is a big deal, Ben. I want to be there with you in your shining moment. Besides, I've been there for all the others and it wouldn't be right to miss this one." Michael didn't say that he was worried it would end badly.

It was the elephant in the room and they both knew it, though neither would admit it. They didn't keep secrets from one another, but not admitting their worries out loud was their old fall back. If neither copped to it, then it didn't exist. Both stared at the ceiling and sleep was a long time coming.

***********************************************************

Everett Ryker sat at the command center in the underground bowels of the station surrounded by monitors and control panels. From here he could watch everything that happened on the compound of Kinney Track and the computers recorded it all. Brian had not been stingy with his money when it came to protecting what he considered his. The fact that it included people in addition to property was not lost on the Marine Raider. His security company was now partnered with Kinnetik, and where Brian led Everett followed. He had built the business from the ground up, staffing it with former military personnel with extensive combat backgrounds and many from Special Forces like himself. Brian had come to him for a consultation when he first purchased the tracks, wanting an expert opinion on the security. Everett had been doing well for himself, but upon reviewing the scope of Brian's needs had originally declined the contract on the grounds of how big it was and his lack of personnel and supplies. Brian had graciously thanked him and left.

Everett lit a clove cigarette, leaning back in his chair grinning to himself. Brian had come back to his office unannounced two weeks later with a contract for partnership and a cashier's check for an amount that caused Everett to almost have a heart attack. Obviously Brian had won him over, and Everett had no complaints about the deal. He made a great amount of money doing what he loved and answered to no one. Well, almost no one. Brian kept out of his way once the initial setup was finished, but getting there had been hell on wheels. Not, that Brian was unreasonable, he was just very…particular. He wanted to know the why of everything that was being done, but once he knew left it to the professionals. Like himself, he did not suffer fools and could be a hard task maker. Everett respected that and the man a great deal, admired him even, for his no guts, no glory way of doing things. "Do it right the first time" seemed to work best for both of them and though they had only known each other for about a year, he considered the younger man a friend, and hoped he did the same.

He made a trip to the breakroom for coffee and was just setting the mug down on the desk when he caught movement on the monitor showing the studio feed. He had thought Justin had left for the night, but was not surprised to see he had come back. What had shocked him enough to keep him watching longer than intended was the savagery of the event on display and the unadulterated pain on Brian's face. Everett had stood and was going to intervene when it dawned on him that Brian was not a captive, not restrained, and would not be there if he didn't want to be. It was graphic, and Everett looked away. He couldn't watch such a confident man, be used and hurt like that. Justin obviously couldn't see his face, because no one could have continued doing that, in light of that much distress. Everett had never seen Brian anything but confident and sexually radiant. Even in humor, he was cool and collected, in control, giving nothing away. Everett looked again. The man lying on the table was another matter. Tension rippled muscle but his expression was heart wrenching. Even with his eyes closed, the sadness was palpable. He looked far too vulnerable and oddly childlike. It was the sheer magnitude of unfiltered emotion that had Everett rooted in place unable to look away again. Brian never let anyone see that much of him and Everett felt ashamed for doing so, even if it was inadvertent. He came to his senses when it seemed to be over and his boss lit up a smoke. Turning off the monitor, he went back to the breakroom. He needed some space to catch his breath, hoping he would never see that look on Brian's face ever again and wondering how he would ever forget, let alone deal with the guilt of knowing.

******************************************************

Cynthia cringed when the knock sounded on her office door. This late, it could only be one of three people. She knew Ted was gone and Brian was back in the studio, leaving Everett as the top choice. She really needed to keep better hours because running into him here late at night was becoming a habit. His seeking her out when he knew she was still here was becoming an even bigger one. She didn't dislike him, per se, he was just…..intimidating. It wasn't anything he said or did, just his presence. He was practically nuclear in sex appeal. Six feet did not make him particularly tall and the ruggedness of his features kept him from being truly handsome but something about him made her feel….unsettled.

"Come in Everett." She called from where she was standing by the window. She mentally pulled herself together and absently smoothed a hand down the front of her blouse before turning to face him.

"Burning the midnight oil again, I see." He said, closing the door behind him, then directing his silver gaze at her. His eyes flicked briefly to the window and an indescribable thought passed over his face, then was gone. He focused on her entirely and his eyes crinkled slightly at the corners as he smiled, causing his face to look fifteen years younger than his personnel file said he was. It was disarming to say the least.

She took a deep breath and decided that she had better nip this in the bud before it got complicated.

"Look, Everett, I appreciate that you feel the need to look out for me, all of us really, but you need to stop hanging around, giving me special attention." She blushed a little at that and he found it charming.

"Nothing wrong with special attention. Most women would demand it at the top of their lungs." He watched her to see if she had any tells.

When she imperiously replied, "I am not most women." He caught the shadow that flitted over her features and disappeared leaving her firm in her resolve.

Time to try a new tactic. "No ma'am, you certainly are not anything as mundane as that." He agreed, briefly allowing his intentions to show in his face before hiding them away again.

Her pupils dilated, and he rejoiced in the flush that crept up her neck and colored her ears. But she was made of sterner stuff than that, and he could do nothing but admire her when she stiffened her spine and stared back at him saying, "Never mundane." She raised a honey colored eyebrow and cocked her head towards the door inviting him to let himself out and went back to the work on her desk, dismissing him entirely. He chuckled to himself, looking forward to the challenge, and left her to her work.

When he was gone, Cynthia slumped in her seat allowing the jitters to subside before pouring a shot of scotch. Downing it in one gulp, she was forced to admit that Everett was indeed making a play for her. He was handsome, in a non-GQ way, and certainly had more sex appeal than anyone had a right to claim, with his dark hair shot through with silver and matching eyes. She would probably even consider an affair with him as she had with others in the past, but for some reason he was different. It wasn't the whole military thing, which was a huge turn on for her, but a sense that she didn't think she would be able to walk away unscathed when it was over. That was how she liked it. No long term commitments, just getting needs met and a little fun. She was married to her work and liked it that way. No matter how attracted she was to Everett, she could never allow anything to happen between them because she was afraid. Afraid, that in the end, she would not be able to walk away intact.

********************************************************

The next afternoon Brian was standing at the head of the conference table with Cynthia seated next to him leading a staff meeting when Justin stormed in throwing a newspaper at him and hitting him in the chest before it slid to the floor. He yelled "Why'd you do it!"

Justin paced the room like a caged animal, so caught up in himself he failed to notice the response his entrance had elicited. Not so, for everyone else.

They were all well acquainted with Brian's displeasure and did whatever they could not to court it. They all knew two things simultaneously; one: Brian was livid. As evidenced by the immediate and complete stillness of his physical form. Two: The cold glitter of rage lurking in eyes that had gone so dark one could no longer tell the difference between iris and pupil.

Justin practically fumed as he continued to pace, oblivious.

Cynthia tilted her head at the door and the room erupted into pandemonium as the occupants beat a hasty retreat for the exit and the relative safety of their offices. She thought that, in other circumstances people tripping over furniture to escape might be comical, but could not summon a smile. She had warned Brian this could happen and glanced his way. He had not moved.

For now she quickly slid her papers into a folder and headed for the door. As she reached for the handle she turned with a question on her face but never gave it voice when beautiful chocolate eyes met hers. She knew what he wanted her to do, but she didn't have to like it. Sighing to herself, she left, pausing just outside the door to wish Brian luck and the fortitude to cope with what was coming.

With another sigh she admitted that he would, as he always did, even if it killed him. With a heavy heart and acid burning in her stomach she made her way to the solitude of her office to do what he paid her very well to do. Manage. Eating two Rolaids, she hoped she would be able to get everything rescheduled and finish up the other things still waiting on her approval before going home. She did not want to face Brian or Everett this evening. A girl could only take so much.

*********************************************************

The closing of the door was Justin's permission to vent his outrage.

"Don’t even try to deny it Brian!" he spat.

"What, exactly, am I being blamed for this time?" his voice calm, emotionless.

Justin missed it entirely.

"You sent in a response to that stupid critic!" He sounded angry, but the hurt was there too.

"I sent a well worded response to a certain self-proclaimed expert, reminding his readership that wealthy people have been supporting the arts and sponsoring artists for centuries, so I fail to see why you….."

Justin cut him off, "What you fail to see is legion! What you fail to see is that by not letting it go you have picked a fight in which others will feel compelled to choose sides! What you fail to see, is that by calling him out, in true Kinney style, you have shifted the focus from my work to a discourse on our relationship! What you fail to see, is that you lent credence to his implication that I am a kept man! And worst of all, Brian, you fail to see that his implication that I am nothing without you, was validated. BY YOU, and your fucking well worded response! I can fight my own battles, damn it." He seethed.

"I hardly think that anyone would…" but Justin interrupted him again as he strode to the door.

"That's right," he bit out, "you hardly think."

Shaking his head in disgust, he exited, having never once truly looked at the man he professed to love. Maybe, just maybe, he might have seen the glimmer of regret Brian could not quite conceal.

But Justin had not, and therefore, did not.

********************************************************

Ben sat waiting in a plush armchair on the set of Tasha Lyons' hit television show. He was fervently wishing he had foregone this interview. Michael had reminded him only this morning that he was a Professor and public speaking was par for course, but Ben had seen the worry on his face. Michael was pretty much an open book when it came to his feelings. Ben glanced over to where he stood off the set, but still in his line of sight, and his nerves raced up another notch upon seeing Michael chewing his thumbnail in a sure sign of discomfort.

Opening a nearby bottle of water and pouring it in the accompanying glass, Ben went over what he knew of Tasha Lyons. She had become a media sensation by asking hard questions and not allowing her recipients the opportunity to demure. She had a huge fan base obsessed with seeing her guests made a mockery of, ridiculed, called on the carpet for their hubris, and in the case of one foreign dignitary, left sobbing like a child on national television. Her network of researchers were well known for finding some of the most obscure dirt, which she then put on public display for all to see, resulting in some of the most candid, comical, and on occasion heartbreaking scenes of live television ever recorded.

Ben wished once again that he could just make some excuse and leave well enough alone, but ran out of time to do so, when she chose that moment to enter the stage as various people followed in her wake. She was barking orders and paying no attention to him so he took a few minutes to assess what he observed. Tasha was average height and weight for a woman, he supposed, but managed to look taller and thinner with the addition of four inch Jimmy Choos in scarlet ultra-suede. She had not quite platinum blonde hair that ended in an edgy fray just below her ears making her look ten years younger than her steel gray eyes said she actually was. So did the soft, charcoal pantsuit. She handed her notes to her assistant and straightened before looking into the camera as she sat down.

3,2,1……

"Welcome back to the Tasha Lyons' Show, we have with us for this final segment, Professor and author Ben Bruckner. His recent book "The Bug Chaser" is enjoying its 34th week on the New York Time's Bestseller List, welcome Ben." She finally acknowledged his presence by turning to face him, and Ben wished he had been more forceful in convincing Michael to stay at the hotel instead of coming to the set. She had not given any outward sign of her intentions, but he had seen something feral in her gaze when she looked at him.

"Thank you for having me Ms. Lyons, I'm glad to be here." He smiled.

"I have to say, Ben, that I am a little concerned about your chosen subject. You have your main character willfully seeking out HIV infected persons in order to get infected. I have to say that I find that dreadfully disturbing." Her eyes said she was titillated.

"Yes, it is, and was to write about it." Hopefully if he kept his answers short he could avoid any pitfalls.

"Don't you think, as much as the public does, that glamorizing such a thing will send the wrong message to the readers?" She asked with false sincerity so thick you could cut it.

Ben took a drink of water, stalling. "No I don't." He gave her a half smile.

"So you don't believe that your book could encourage young people to follow the footsteps of your protagonist and seek to become infected? Similar things have happened before. Fans imitate characters all of the time, even have conventions devoted to it, life imitating art, so to speak." She said with a look of wide eyed innocence on her face.

Another drink of water and a steadying breath and Ben replied "Any one that has actually read the book would realize that I did not as you say, glamorize self-infection. They would, however, note that I'm very clear in my distaste and my previous interviews have reiterated those feelings. I simply understand the motivations that would drive someone to this path and chose to write about it. My concern at how prevalent this is becoming, led to my husband and I, and a few others to start a charitable foundation with the goal of putting an end to this through education and counseling." He took another drink and set his glass on the table.

When he straightened, he noted the triumph in her eyes and realized that she had been soft-shoeing him into this corner and glanced briefly at Michael. He had no idea.

"I'm glad you mentioned the foundation. I understand that it was started before your book was a success, was in fact funded with the proceeds from your husband's comic book profits, a comic book that can only be described as pornographic."

Ben felt rather than saw, Michael blanch. He took another drink and pressed his lips together then said jovially, "Was there a question in there?" Take that.

She snickered a little at that, conceding the point. Holding up a copy of the book for the cameras she switched gears and said "Beautiful artwork, by the way. I have seen all of the promotional work done for you and I am astounded every time by the amount and quality of design that went into it. I believe Kinnetik was your agency, was it not?" She gave a big smile for the camera.

He gulped his water this time and Ben gripped the chair arms to keep his temper in check. He did not need a road map to see where this was going and he was not happy about it.

"Yes, it is." Ben agreed and flexed his fingers.

"And Kinnetik also handles the marketing of the comic book, "Rage", for your husband." She was daring him to deny it.

Ben finished his glass of water even though he had a violent urge to pee.

"It does, as well as the marketing for the Foundation, and probably a couple thousand other brands that I know nothing about. Just in case that was your next question." His smile was forced and his tone sarcastic.

She chortled this time as she reached over, placing her hand over his in a seemingly conciliatory gesture. "So I guess my question is this. Don't you feel the least bit hypocritical when you espouse and expound on family values every chance you get, but your lover publishes gay porn, your son was a hustler, and the man running the marketing for your charitable foundation as well as your book, is the definition of promiscuity? Not to mention the fact that my sources confide that you started a fight and nearly beat someone to death at a peaceful vigil after a bombing in Pittsburgh?"

Ben tried to move his hand but could not do so given the grip she had taken on it forcing him to stay seated. He was positive it was not in view of the camera, but Michael saw it and made to step forward, only to stop when Ben shook his head. Clearing his throat he looked her dead in the eye and let her see his anger.

"I am not here to discuss my family and friends. Since there seem to be no more questions regarding the book, I am going to excuse myself, as I have a sudden need to wash my hands." He stood, pulled his hand from her grip, and moved off the stage. What he did not see, was the expression she left the audience with. One eyebrow cocked high, daring anyone to deny that his retreat was confirmation of her accusations.

Ben took hold of Michael's elbow and together they left the t.v. studio, both of them glad to finally be going home to Pittsburgh.

****************************************************************

Cynthia hated it when Brian was compelled to do things he clearly had no desire to do. Hated it on a level so deep I gnawed in her gut and sometimes (most times) drove her to the bottle of antacids she kept in her pocket, and her desk drawer, and her purse, and the console of her car, and her….FUCK! Why do I do this? She shook her head to clear it and sat down in her lovely executive chair. It was a gift from Brian and she loved the way it cushioned without a sound. She let her mind drift over the most recent events in "the life of Brian" as she called it. Drama seemed to follow him like a cloud in the form of Justin Taylor. Oh, she liked Justin well enough, but since he was the reason for needing to reschedule the staff meeting that had taken three weeks to pull together in the first place, she was not feeling particularly magnanimous at the moment.

Justin's temper had been anticipated, of course, but his timing had sucked. Why couldn't he wait a few hours and throw his hissy fit at home? Brian had called that one, and she now owed him ten bucks for her loss of their bet. The kid was nothing if not predictable. To Brian anyway. Even in the middle of a temper tantrum he had been a sight to behold. His face flushed and his eyes flashing defiance he had fairly glowed in the dark. He was a fine specimen of manhood, having finally lost the last vestiges of twinkdom. Gone was the layer of softness that had shrouded him from head to toe for most of the time she had known him. In its place was well honed but not sharply defined musculature. Adultness suited him and the appraising stares as he went through the station on his visits confirmed it. He, like Brian, could have anyone he wanted in his bed, no matter what their sexuality was. Gay, straight, male, female, undecided, it didn't matter. Both men exuded sexual secrets and together they were nearly blinding in their intensity. You'd have to be dead, not to notice and appreciate the sight.

Of course, none of that mattered now. The only thing that mattered, or ever would to her, was Brian's well-being. She worked for him, sure, but they had been friends for a long time. Having been together for so long lent her a perspective on Brian that no one else had and a trust that no one else would ever get. That was not the whole of it, and never would be, but for right now that was as far as she would allow her train of thought to take her on that subject.

So it was time to switch tracks and focus on Toronto. She pulled out four antacids and chewed them as she mulled over that development. Lindsay had called Brian's cell, and when it had gone straight to voicemail, she then tried the line in his office. Not getting an answer (because they had not been in there) she had called Cynthia's office directly and asked to be connected with him. Cynthia had stated plainly that he must be busy and would pass him any message she wanted to leave.

"I just need to talk to him about our son as soon as possible."

She had sounded sweet enough, but it grated on Cynthia's last nerve whenever the older woman used those words, our son. Not hers and Mel's, as anyone casually listening might assume, but the proprietary Our Son, meaning hers and Brian's.

"I will let him know as soon as he is….."

Lindsay did not let her finish "I just need you to take the phone to him Cynthia, right now."

Trying to head off a total meltdown she had replied "I can't do that. He is in a closed meeting at the moment, so unless this is an emergency, I'll let him know you called when I see him next."

Lindsay just hung up the phone.

Cynthia waited another thirty minutes or so before seeking him out, figuring he had had enough time to brood and found him still in the conference room staring absently down at the newspaper still on the floor and smoking a cigarette. He didn't look up when she came in.

"I know, I will call her back. Thanks for holding the front line."

Concern melted into her voice when she asked "Are you sure this is what you want? You can still change your mind, it's not too late."

"I'm sure." So sad, she thought, and resigned.

He had looked at her then, and she was struck breathless, as she always was, with the depth of his pain. I was a palpable thing, living and breathing and tormenting him, but was so comfortable living in his skin that the only avenue to reach it was his eyes, lost and desperate for relief, allowing none and covered somewhat by the dark humor that even now mocked her, not unkindly, for her sympathy.

"Don't say it Eriukas" spoken just above a whisper and more powerful that a shout. He had called her Lamb, in her native Lithuanian, and now had his lips pulled in and an index finger pressed to them as if to keep back a flood of words by sheer force.

************************************************************

Forty-five minutes later Brian boarded his private jet the same way he had a hundred times before, sharing light greetings with the crew and handing over his briefcase and overcoat. He didn't really know where they were stowed, just that they were taken away and returned as needed. Settling into his preferred spot in the corner of the leather sofa he kicked off his shoes. God he hated shoes. Not on principle, but the confinement they represented. Admitting to himself that he felt that way about clothes in general he wished he could go through life the way he really wanted, naked. Free, unconfined, openly naked. A smile peeked along the left edge of his mouth, not quite reaching his eyes. He knew his friends thought he was a label queen, but the truth was, if he had to put anything next to his skin he wanted it to feel good. His clothes had to feel right. Not to tight or loose, soft or firm, but just right. He chuckled when he remembered being called Goldilocks, and figured that it was an apt description in this case.

Caryn, his attendant, brought him his usual short glass of Chivas Regal asking him if he needed anything else.

"I'll take a few painkillers if you've got 'em." Leaning his head back to the wall and closing his eyes. Fuck, this day is never going to end.

Lindsay had called his cell while he'd been brooding over Justin's tantrum, and he had not been able to bring himself to call her back right away. If the munchers had called him, it could not be good. He had stalled for nearly an hour and when he spoke to her she had been cryptic, but insisted that he come to Toronto tonight. It was for the best he supposed. It gave Justin time to cool off, with the benefit being able to visit with his son.

When did life get so complicated? When you stuck your nose in and started paying attention, asshole!

That was not entirely accurate, since he ALWAYS paid attention, so it was more accurate to say it got complicated when he started to CARE.

And when the fuck had that happened anyway?

Brian did not really want to answer that, and was saved from doing so by Caryn's return.

"Uh, I'm sorry Mr. Kinney, but I don’t have any regular painkillers on board right now. But I do have, uh, some um…."

Brian would have laughed at her obvious embarrassment if he hadn’t also noticed she was clutching her right hand tightly in her left.

Concerned he asked "You okay?"

Steeling herself, she opened her fist for his inspection. Brian saw the twin oblong, blue pills but did not recognize them. In and of itself, it was a new experience and cause for mild curiosity.

"What are they?" His eyes twinkled at the prospect of an illicit drug he had not taken before.

Caryn correctly interpreted his assumption and decided it might be fun to tweak the tail of the beast, if only to make him forget his shitty day.

"Just take them. They will fix the headache I see brewing and help with the stiffness in your back I noticed when you handed over your things."

He was a little nonplussed that she had picked up on that tidbit, teasing her with a snarky reply.

"You must know, that if those pills kill me, the cops will know it was you pretty quickly since there are only four of us on board." He teased. She was utterly charmed, instantly aware, not for the first time, how magnificently beautiful he really was when he let down his guard. She lamented, once again, the fact that he was not straight.

"Just take them and try to get a nap. It's a short trip as you know, so take advantage of what you can." The insinuation and the invitation was clear. She once again held out the pills.

Brian figured what the hell, and swallowed the pills with the last of his liquor. He gave her his sexiest, come hither look and with his voice dripping sensual secrets, drawled "So. What were they?"

Backing out of reach, because one never knew, Caryn gave him back tit for tat. With come hither eyes and her voice dripping honey, she replied "Midol." As she walked off.

For the rest of the flight she relished the groan he'd let fly and the look of utter horror that had filled his face.

***********************************************************

Justin called Michael on his way home from the station, needing an outlet for the frustration and dissatisfaction that remained after his confrontation with Brian but when it went to voicemail, he hung up. Riding the elevator to top he had plenty of time to think. He loved Brian, always had, and the last couple of years had seen their share of disagreements and arguments, but this time was different. He could not pinpoint exactly why, but he was sure of one thing. Brian had been pulling away from him for some time now. Not in big ways, but little easily overlooked ways. Like not going to bed until he was sure Justin was already asleep and waking first. Tricking had become infrequent but was on the rise again and so was clubbing. His drug and alcohol use was staggering and cause for Justin's biggest concern.

He knew Brian well enough and was sure there was something wrong. Just as he was sure that no amount of cajoling would get him to talk about it. Typically he would make himself miserable until he came to terms with whatever was bothering him, alienating the people around him in the process. They had been through it before with Brian's cancer. But, as he thought before, this time was different. The mood swings were more drastic, volatile, and when Justin had innocently startled Brian recently, he had seen stark fear in his face before he managed to hide it.

He entered the apartment noting the broken glass near the wall and the open bottle of Beam on the coffee table. Brian must have been in a real state last night if he left the place in anything but perfection. Justin felt the guilt wash over him again for what he had done to Brian, but didn’t let it linger in the light of what Brian had done over the review. He didn’t want to be on this roller coaster anymore, didn’t want to love someone with that much power over his emotions. He didn’t like that Brian seemed to not be as invested in their relationship as he was. It felt like Brian was never giving as much to their arrangement as he was. It was exhausting, trying to get him to engage.

Justin got an overnight bag from the hall closet and moved into their bedroom. Putting some things inside, he decided to head to Pittsburgh for a few days, try to figure shit out. Lying back on the bed, he wondered, as he had many times in the past, if Brian would even miss him. He knew the man loved him, but he was unsure if it was still enough.

***********************************************************

Brian was sending a text to Theodore telling him to give Caryn a raise, with his thanks, when he exited the plane. A misty rain was falling as he hurried to the dark sedan waiting to take him to see his son. Inside he ran a hand through his damp hair pushing it back from his face. The double beep that signaled a call from Everett had him answering immediately, while giving the driver a nod, and they were on their way.

"What can I do for you, Ryker?" He sounded tired, even to himself.

Knowing Brian would not want him to beat around the bush he said "He's gone. Geri confirmed a flight to Pittsburgh tonight. One way ticket paid for by credit card."

"Put whomever you think is best on him, and keep me updated." There was no inflection, no hint at what was running through his mind, all business.

Everett couldn't wrap his head around it, especially after last night. Brian's long-time lover had just left him and he sounded like he was ordering a pizza. Maybe that's how he copes?

Venturing into unfamiliar waters he asked "Anything I can do for you?"

Tucking his head, Brian sighed at the concern he heard "Just your job." He didn’t want pity. Disconnecting, he turned his phone off and sat in silence for the rest of the trip staring out the window.

The hushed sweep of the wiper blades filled the interior and Lara, the driver, peeked in the rearview mirror at her occupant. She had driven him before, but had never had the opportunity to study him as he seemed to be always in motion. Not so tonight. He leaned into the door, head tilted next to the glass. Dark auburn hair swept back, revealing moss green eyes whenever they passed a street light. Outside of the military, she had never seen anyone be that still. She could not even tell if he was breathing. That kind of control would be an asset if he was a sniper and most likely took him years to cultivate.

They entered a quiet neighborhood that could only be described as vinyl-sided suburbia at its most nauseating. All the houses appeared the same and she pulled to a stop at the curb in front of the house with blue shutters. He hadn’t appeared to notice, consumed with his own thoughts, and startling abruptly when she cleared her throat while watching him in the mirror.

"Thank you, Lara. You have your arrangements I assume?" he asked.

"Yes sir, Mr. Kinney." Not knowing any way to lift his spirits she added "Just let me know if you need me, any time."

He nodded then and met her at the trunk for his carryall. He tipped his head in her direction and she returned to her post and drove off. He navigated the cracked sidewalk and saw the curtain in the big front window settle back into place and knew his son had been manning his post, awaiting his arrival.

Brian had just a couple of seconds to drop his bag as the front door flew open and he was tackled by the boy that launched into his arms, never doubting his Dad would catch him. He was pulled close in strong arms and lifted into a spin that left him giddy with laughter. Brian hoped he would never hear the end of his son's amusement. Putting him down, he grabbed his bag and let Gus take his hand. He was unceremoniously dragged into the house where small hands proceeded to remove his shoes. A habit these days since Gus had worked out for himself, that if his Dad took off his shoes, it meant he was staying overnight, and he wanted to ensure that he did. Brian didn’t have the heart to stop him.

"I've been waiting for you forever to get here Daddy, and Mommy said I could wait in the window if I ate all my dinner and I did and I saw the black car and I knew it was you but I'm not allowed to open the door till I see you and then I did and I'm so happy you're here 'cuz school is boring and Mommy said I don’t hafta go tomorrow if you stay so will you stay Daddy? We can play with my new Transformers and Legos or we can erection a fort or whatever you want to."

Brian smiled for the first time in hours and felt his spirits lift a little at Gus' enthusiasm. Stroking a hand over hair so much like his own, he squatted down so they were eye to eye.

"Take a breath, Sonny-Boy, and help me find the ladies of the house. They seem to be conspicuously absent." A dimple flashed in his cheek as he grinned.

Gus made the motion of zipping his lips, but his face was animated in his excited anticipation, as he practically danced in place. He knew the routine.

"Been practicing, have we?" He stood, drawing in a lungful of air and started to sing, "Someday my prince will come, someday we'll meet again, and away to his castle we'll go," Brian heard little feet headed his way and turned to meet the girl toddling his way from the back of the house. She had dark hair and eyes, wearing blue pajamas with ducks under umbrellas printed on them.

"Prince, Prince" she slurred around the fingers she had stuck in her mouth. Gus met her halfway and taking her hand in his, patiently guided her to his Dad. She peered up at him, grinning and baring some new teeth as a bit of drool slid from the corner of her mouth. Lifting her arms in a demand, Brian couldn’t help but oblige. Securing her in his left arm he grabbed his son, tucking him under his right like a sack of potatoes, venturing to the back of the house and the kitchen he figured the girls were hiding in.

He was blowing raspberries in Jenny's neck and Gus was squirming and giggling like a loon when he stepped into the bright kitchen. Melanie and Lindsay were both seated at the table drinking coffee and he could still smell the pot roast they had had for dinner.

Lindsay could only marvel at the sight of her children who unabashedly loved the man. For someone who thought he would never be a good father, he was doing a hell of a job. Jenny had pulled his two hundred dollar tie into her mouth and he didn’t seem to care as he nuzzled her neck while she cooed.

Gus managed to get free, dropping on all fours to the floor, and the moment was broken. Melanie rose to relieve Brian of her daughter, but Jenny refused to be taken away. She fisted tiny fingers into the hair above Brian's ear, babbling into the side of his face.

"It's all right, Mel. After all, what real princess would choose the dragon over the prince anyway?" He snarked as he slid into the empty seat at the table. Jenny made quick work of arranging herself in his lap, laying back in the crook of his elbow, where she promptly stuck a thumb in her mouth and watched as Brian slipped off his tie and dangled it over her for her amusement.

Both women seemed ill at ease, so he sent Gus off on a mission to score the stuff they needed for a fort before turning his attention back to them.

"He's not going to be long, so spill it."

Lindsay noticed the dark circles under his eyes and rose to get him some coffee, adding the copious amount of sugar he preferred.

Melanie started "We had some concerns about Gus. His teacher suggested that he is well ahead of his classmates academically."

Lindsay handed him his cup and he sipped before he said "No surprise, being our kid and all." He looked pointedly at her.

She cleared her throat, not risking a look at Melanie. "Right, so we had him tested. We got the results today and we thought you might want to see them." She sat down, pulling a sheaf of papers from under the placemat and sliding them across the table to him.

"I'm tired, and hungry, can't you just give me the Cliff Notes?" He already knew what the papers said, but wanted to hear it anyway.

Mel picked up the conversation "Basically it says that Gus is very talented, most likely gifted, academically and keeping him in a regular school could deter his chances of success."

Lindsay added "If he is not challenged enough, he could become a nuisance, or even act out and cause problems for the other kids. It is suggested that we put him in a special program for kids like him, to get the one on one education that his situation demands, allowing him to learn at an accelerated pace.”

"Hmmm." Brian sipped his coffee again, taking note of the expectant stares they were giving him, as they seemed to be holding their breath. "Send me the paperwork and I'll take care of it." Both women exhaled then and smiled happily at each other as they clasped hands.

This whole demand that he come to Toronto had been about money. They thought he would be less likely to say no to their faces. As if. And why does that still sting just a little bit? He stared down at the ducks on Jenny's pajamas but they did not have the answer either. Gus hollered from the top of the stairs that he had found everything he needed, so Brian stood and carried Jenny with him to his son's room to, as his son had said, erection a fort.

**********************************************************

As it happened, Ben, Michael, and Justin ran into each other on the curb at the airport, while trying to hail cabs.

"Hey, Justin," Michael waved his arms above his head trying to get his attention. When Justin turned, it was to see them standing at the other end of the crowd, so he began weaving through the throng.

"Probably best to not mention the article." Ben warned under his breath and had Michael nodding in agreement as Justin finally made it to their side.

"I've been trying to reach you." Justin said, "I was hoping I could crash at your place for a couple days while I'm in town?" He was busy zipping his coat against the chill and missed the look that passed between the Novotny-Bruckners.

"Uh, sure, why don’t we get a cab and you can tell us all about it when we get home." Ben offered.

"Yeah,okay." Justin's shoulders slumped a little, not sure about how much he wanted to share, but he was grateful to be among real friends again. He was even more grateful, to not have to stay in Brian's loft.

**********************************************************

Debbie was walking through her front door and shucking her coat, when the silence hit her. Carl must have caught a bad case if he's not home yet. She hung the coat on the peg and went to the kitchen for a snack. Opening the freezer door she eyeballed the Ben and Jerry's chocolate chunk ice cream and almost decided against it, when she noticed the envelope attached to the top. Grabbing both, she set them on the kitchen table and sat down to open the note.

"In honor of your birthday, this card entitles you to two weeks of vacation aboard a cruise ship in the Caribbean Sea. Love, Carl."

He had signed it with x's and o's, eliciting a girlish smile from Debbie right there in her kitchen. But the house was empty. She had no one to share her happiness with and for a slim second wished her family closer. She then chastised herself for the sentimentality. Her "lost boys" were all grown up, making their own way in the world, and she was proud of them. She was proud of her role in their lives, that she had had a hand shaping them into the men they were and the success they had found.

She rose, intent on making a cake. Not just for her birthday, but for Carl, and the love she had found so late in life and the gratitude for his wonderful gift.

**********************************************************

Cynthia was shutting down her computer at midnight. It had been another very long day. Conferences with legal had taken the bulk of her working hours and would need even more after Brian reviewed the work, but she was satisfied that she had earned her pay today and picked up her briefcase and coat. She hoped it wasn't cold enough to snow yet, as her outerwear was not designed for it. Stepping out of her office she let out a half scream as she was startled by Everett walking out of the darkness.

"Christ, man, you need to wear bells or something." She was still trying to regain her composure when he broke into a full-bellied laugh that had her nerves jangling. LORD ALMIGHTY! The man is hot! She felt the flush that crept up her neck and colored her face, causing her ears to burn. She had never in her life, blushed as much as she did around Everett. She was proud of her ability to stay calm and cool in difficult circumstances and she despised the visible indication of her arousal being on display. He noticed, she saw, and his laughter immediately died. Replaced by uninhibited desire he took no measures to hide.

She felt much like a rabbit might, when facing a wolf. Stuck, staring, heart racing, and scared to breathe or move.

Everett saw the mild panic. It had not been his intention to scare her, just to walk her out to her car. But now, standing there staring at him, her desire a mirror of his own, he stepped forward. She watched him, making no move to evade, so he advanced again, slowly, giving her every chance to leave. He heard her belongings hit the walkway and saw in her eyes the moment she gave in. Her hands reached for his face, landing on either side of his head and he was pulled into the hottest kiss he had ever had.

Cynthia pressed her lips to Everett's, figuring if she was going to go against her better judgement, she would make him suffer for it. He opened his mouth on a gasp and she wasted no time delving her tongue in to dance with his while aligning their bodies for maximum contact.

Everett could not hold a single thought together. He was both consumed and confused by the woman in his arms. She had given every indication of hard to get, but was here now, with him, outside her office, completely uninhibited. Too fast! Too fast! His brain finally screamed, but his body wasn't listening. She had wrapped one arm around his neck and the other was tugging his polo shirt from his jeans. Her hand slid up his back then coasted back down to slip under his waistband. He hugged her tighter, taking their kiss to a new level, groaning into her mouth when she gripped his ass and ground their hips together. No way to hide the hard on he had, or her surprised exhale when she felt it.

Cynthia felt it, all right. She wanted to feel it naked and plunging into her. She was already wet and wanting, but backed away. She was only supposed to kiss him and she'd let it go too far. She dragged the back of her hand across her lips, as if to wipe him away, and she saw anger flare in his face.

"Don’t do that." His voice was gravel and his hands flexed at his sides, "no need to be ashamed or embarrassed."

"I'm not" she sounded weak, even to herself.

He faced her fully, "I knew there was fire, so did you. Sometimes it's worth the risk." His eyes were hot, leaving her speechless. He tucked his polo back in and retrieving her things, handed them to her. Starting down the stairs, he said over his shoulder, "Drinks with me, Friday, seven o'clock. No excuses." He didn’t wait for her reply, leaving her standing there wondering what the hell just happened.

*********************************************************

Lindsay and Mel spent a couple of hours discussing which program to put Gus in and could not come to an amenable agreement. Lindsay wanted to move back to the States and Melanie did not. Agreeing to disagree, for the time being, Melanie went off to bed, leaving Lindsay to mull over the problem, at the kitchen table. Lindsay knew her wife would be asleep in minutes, a benefit she herself could not lay claim to. Having not heard the sounds of play for some time, she made her way to Gus's room, to see the damage his fort had wreaked.

A large blanket had been strung between the two twin beds and was tucked into the blinds at the far end giving it a tent-like appearance. The end closest to her, with nothing to raise it, sagged between the beds almost to the floor. She muffled the giggle that threatened, when she saw two legs covered in gray sweats sticking out up to the knees. Carefully pulling back the corner of the blanket she could see the tangle of bodies inside. Brian lay on his back, with a child tucked in each arm and a storybook lying open on his chest. All three were asleep, peaceful in their dreams. Lindsay quietly searched out drawing paper and a pencil and began sketching. She worked fast at first, getting a good outline. As the mood took her, she slowed, filling in the finer details and taking time to show how much her son looked like his father. More so in sleep, than at any other time. Brian's face was relaxed, his dark lashes brushing his cheeks while his breathing rustled his son's hair. Lindsay smiled, even in sleep, Brian was protective. The fact that he treated Jenny like his daughter was a testament to how much he loved his son. Gus loved her, so Brian did too.

She continued to draw for over an hour and when her back began to protest she shifted out of the door to the wall next to it. Her moving allowed the light her body had been blocking to fall directly on Brian illuminating him fully. She used the new position to look her fill and refine the details of his body in her sketch. It wasn't long before she noticed the tension creeping into his limbs and the furrow in his brow. No longer peaceful, his dreams took hold of him and his eyes moved rapidly under his lids. Lindsay watched, hoping he would settle, but finally reached out to rouse him when he began to murmur and he jerked awake, instantly aware of his surroundings. He exhaled sharply on a curse, but managed not to wake the kids, and Lindsay slid the picture under the end of the bed out of sight. Reaching in to help him untangle limbs and stand, she was close enough to see the thin sheen of sweat covering him, but did not comment on it.

Brian stood on shaky legs, could not miss the concern on Lindsay's face, and pulled her to his side with an arm around her and kissing her forehead in reassurance while guiding her out to the hallway. He walked with her to her bedroom door, clearly sending her off to bed, and entered the bathroom next to it. She stood, in the hall waiting for him, with her eyes narrowed when he came out. He didn’t want to talk about it and she did. She crossed her arms over her chest and blocked his way to the extra bedroom until he finally capitulated.

"Fine, we'll go downstairs. You can make me something to eat, since you seem to feel like mothering me." He rubbed his fingers and descended the stairs ahead of her and plopped into a chair in the kitchen while she heated a plate of pot roast. Resting his chin on his hand, he dozed until he smelled his dinner.

She started innocuously enough, "I know you don’t eat carbs after seven, but knowing you, and I do, you didn’t take the time for a meal before coming, so you'll eat that and not complain." Her face was soft when she said it, so Brian chose not to argue. He just began to eat, hoping to wait her out, and barring that, to only answer direct questions with the simplest answer. Maybe she'll take the hint, and fuck off.

"How long have you been having them, this time?" Lindsay could get an award for accuracy, and silently cheered, when his fork stopped halfway to his mouth. She watched him prevaricate whether or not to tell the truth, and followed with, "Don’t lie to me, I'll know it."

"Eleven months." He replied before taking a bite.

She got up and went to the refrigerator, then poured him a glass of juice. Bringing it back and setting it in front of him, she sat back down, considering carefully what to say next. He was her best friend, but if handled in the wrong way, he would shut her down and refuse any more inquiries. He should have "fragile handle with care" stamped on his forehead. Letting him finish his food in silence, she took his plate to the sink and tugged on his hand until he followed her outside onto the cold back patio. She tossed him a blanket and settled him into the porch swing then lit the fire pit.

For his part, Brian recognized that he was well and truly caught now. There would be no escaping to the safety of the spare room while Lindsay wanted answers. Resigning himself, he curled into the swing, pulling his bare feet into the glider, while she disappeared briefly and came back with a fat joint and a lighter.

Smiling sheepishly, she explained, "Melanie doesn’t garden, so I keep it in a flower pot over there."

Brian returned her smile and opened the blanket in an invitation for her to join him. She settled between his legs and leaned back against his bare chest offering him the joint, while he closed the blanket over them. Lighting up, he sucked in a deep drag, holding in while passing it, and exhaled three perfect smoke rings into the night. Lindsay tipped her head back to rest on his shoulder and her hair teased and caught in the stubble on his jaw. She took a hit, held it, and said "He doesn’t know." Brian didn’t have to ask who she was talking about.

Rubbing his cheek on her head he closed his eyes. "No." She passed back, and he had another drag, enjoying the flavor. She rubbed his bare foot with her own before saying, "Okay."

Brian had never known her to let a subject drop until she was satisfied and was therefore grateful when no more questions were forthcoming. They had not had this kind of solitude in their friendship since college and he realized he had missed it. They shared the rest of the weed in companionable silence, and she was just drifting to sleep, when she felt the rumble of his voice under her cheek.

"Mmm? You say something?" she whispered.

"I asked if you ever thought about having another kid." His tone was deceptively light.

"As if you care, why do you ask?" Lindsay chuckled at the joke she thought he was making.

"Because, I'd like it if you had one," he turned her face up until she could see his in the firelight, "for me."

*************************************************************

Ted was checking his phone as he got home. Blake had left two voicemails that Ted didn’t want to listen to. They'd been having some trouble keeping a long distance relationship viable. Coming to New York to move among the elite, had been a dream fulfilled for Ted. He was respected here, admired even. He loved that others were jealous of his life. I'm back on top! He had never been happier and Blake wanted him to go back to the Pitts. Ludicrous!

He also had some missed calls from Emmett, but decided not to call him tonight. It was pretty late and he had to be back at the office in six hours. He loved his job, not minding the long hours in the least. Cozying up to his ledgers gave him a satisfaction that little else could. Brian had recognized it, and now paid him to do what he did best. Ted was the CFO of a huge, groundbreaking, corporation that was in the news on a regular basis. For him, it did not get much better.

Plugging the charger into his phone, he stripped and fell crosswise on his bed, asleep in minutes never-minding that he was alone.

*********************************************************

Michael unlocked the front door, leading the way to the living room. All three of them dumped their baggage and slumped into the furniture. It had been a bad day all around and no one really wanted to hear anyone else's problems.

"You can have Hunter's room. He's staying with at the dorms now." Michael offered.

"Thanks. Not sure I'll sleep, but it's worth a try." Justin made to stand and was stopped by Ben's question.

"Why aren’t you staying at the loft?" He was cleaning the lenses of his glasses on his shirttail.

Justin looked at Michael and debated how much to say. Opting for the less is more approach he shouldered his bag, saying "I don’t belong there anymore. I left him." Head hanging low, he ascended the stairs to his room and closed out his friends.

Still downstairs, Ben saw the heartbreak on his husband's face, and knew in the pit of his gut that Michael would have a hard time with the breakup. He loved Brian like he loved no one else, but he and Justin had become good friends while working on their comic book, "Rage".

Ben sighed as he put his glasses back on and moved to sit next to Michael kissing him on the temple and rubbing his back in understanding. "They'll work it out, they always do." Ben offered reassuringly.

"I don’t know, Ben. You haven’t read the papers yet."

*********************************************************

Lindsay's shock left her gaping at Brian in disbelief and questioning his sanity. He just continued to stare into her eyes while she came to grips with his request. He rubbed his thumb over her bottom lip as she tried to put her thoughts into words then pulled her back to rest against him once more. She shivered and he wrapped her more tightly in his embrace, keeping his arms around her.

When she spoke, her voice was raw, "Brian, you know I love you, but do you think the two of you are ready for that?"

He took his time, but answered honestly. "I'm the one asking Lindsay."

It was then she knew that Justin had left him. Her heart broke for him and she caressed the arms that held her. When he didn’t say anything else, she knew in her soul that Brian would not give the artist his heart again. He was nobodies' fool.

*************************************************