“We’re running a business, Colin. We could pour a lot of money into those two houses and, at best, end up with a couple of duplexes that still have tons of old-house quirks. Or for roughly the same investment, we demolish them and put up nice new units. Trilevels that’ll bring in several times as much as those old heaps.”

  “But we already have plenty of money, Dad.”

  “Are you turning communist? Or entering a monastery?”

  “Never mind,” Colin mumbled.

  AFTER RETURNING home, Colin did a few chores. He smiled when he found Nevin’s lost sock, and he threw it and its mate into his hamper. Mingling Nevin’s laundry with his own made him happy, even though he knew it had only happened because Nevin was in such a panic over brunch.

  Colin could understand him freaking out over the thought of meeting the parents. Colin’s disclaimers notwithstanding, it was a scary prospect, and not just because it implied a relationship that didn’t exist. Nevin had divulged very little about his background, but it was clear he’d grown up much less privileged than Colin. He certainly wasn’t poor now—his clothing was expensive and his car probably cost a small fortune—but that didn’t mean his past poverty didn’t continue to affect him.

  When Colin sat on the couch to think about this, Leg jumped into his lap. “You turned out to be a complete slut,” Colin informed him, stroking his back. “Not that I blame you. He’s amazing.” Amazing but also puzzling.

  Trent was a simple guy. He came across as a slightly spoiled rich kid, the type who supported the arts but believed that if people suffered economic hardships it was probably their own fault. And when you got to know him better, you learned your initial impression was pretty darn accurate. He wasn’t cruel, wasn’t even an asshole. He liked to talk about exercise and fashion and whether the locally sourced cheeses they served at his favorite restaurant were better than imported ones. He bought himself a sporty new convertible every two years even though he rarely put the top down. He’d hired a decorator for his luxury condo downtown, and the walls ended up hung with ugly paintings even Trent didn’t like but by artists whose careers promised to take off soon. And in the end, Trent hadn’t had patience for a boyfriend who had too many medical appointments and not enough ambition.

  But Nevin, on the other hand—the more Colin got to know him, the more complicated Nevin turned out to be. He was far more than the good-looking, arrogant, foul-mouthed cop Colin had initially met.

  “He’s not an onion, Leg. He’s a prism. Shine a little light on him and you find a rainbow.” But like a rainbow, Nevin’s brilliance was intangible. Colin couldn’t hold on to either kind of beauty.

  What would it be like to be forced to survive the way Nevin once had? Colin couldn’t wrap his head around it. He didn’t think he’d been a particularly greedy kid; he didn’t demand stuff from his parents the way many of his classmates did. But when he needed something, he got it. He’d never thought of himself as rich, yet he’d never worried about how to pay for things. Money was just there, like oxygen. Hell, in his case, occasionally money was more accessible to him than oxygen.

  Okay. So Nevin hadn’t possessed that safety net when he was younger. Even if he was financially secure now and had done well in his profession, it was hard to shake childhood fears. God, Colin understood that. Sometimes even now he would lie quietly on his back, feeling his heart pump steadily, yet expecting it to falter with the next beat.

  As his fingers made transitory patterns in Leg’s plush fur, Colin realized Nevin’s issues didn’t just involve money. They involved family as well.

  The thing was, even when they were being enormous pains in the ass, Colin loved his family. And he’d never been anything but completely confident that they loved him. Every one of them had made sacrifices for him, had abandoned their own goals and plans in order to spend hours carting him to doctors’ appointments or, worse, sitting by his hospital bed. One of his earliest memories was cuddling Miranda’s stuffed unicorn—the one he wasn’t normally allowed to touch—while singing along to The Wizard of Oz with his mother. His father had hooked up a VCR to the television earlier in the day, which was against hospital rules. The nurses pretended not to notice the violation because Colin was going to have another operation in the morning and he was scared.

  Nevin had briefly mentioned a brother unrelated by blood. Stepbrother? And that was it. Maybe Nevin had grown up without a supportive family—an absence even harsher than poverty. A kid who was poor could possibly grow up to earn a good living, but he couldn’t manufacture loving parents.

  Deep in thought, Colin clutched Legolas hard enough that the cat squeaked a protest and gave him a dirty look. “Sorry, Leg.”

  If Colin hadn’t been blessed with money and family, what would he be now? That was easy—he’d be dead. But even if he’d somehow survived, he’d be nothing. Mediocre looks, no special skills. Maybe he’d have some kind of crappy job and a depressing apartment like Roger Grey’s, but he wouldn’t even have Roger’s solace of good memories.

  Nevin, though, had made something of himself despite what seemed to be a rocky start. He had an important career where he helped people, a cool car, a sharp wardrobe, a keen mind. Hell, even Legolas was a fan. Nevin must have been made from some pretty incredible raw material, and he must have fought like a lion to get where he was.

  “No wonder he resents me.” Maybe resent wasn’t quite the right word, but Colin couldn’t find a better one. He was aware that a wide gulf stretched between them. Apart from being two single queer men who lived in the same city, they had little in common. Well, good sex. Great sex. And Colin enjoyed Nevin’s company, and Nevin seemed to enjoy his as well. But they had no future, and if Colin didn’t watch out, he was going to end up with a broken heart. His heart was weak enough already—he shouldn’t endanger it further.

  Chapter Twelve

  NEVIN WASN’T proud of his hasty retreat from Colin’s place. He wasn’t a coward, not by a long shot. But he would sooner have walked naked into Sureño gang territory with the Norteños’ number 14 tattooed on his ass than go to brunch with Colin’s parents. Even several hours later, showering off the sweat of a good run, the idea made him shudder.

  He’d thrown on clean sweats and was heading for the kitchen in search of lunch when his phone rang. “Hey, Chief,” he said after glancing at the screen.

  “Chief, huh? No Germy Cox today?”

  “Don’t have the fucking energy to irritate you.”

  “Sounds like the apocalypse is nigh.” There was a lot of background noise on Jeremy’s end of the call, but his deep voice boomed clearly. “Come meet me at P-Town. We’ll caffeinate you back to your usual irksome self.”

  “Thought you took a hike.”

  “Canceled.”

  “I’m just going to—”

  “I’ll drag you here myself if I have to. Pick you up and put you in my pocket.”

  “You just want me near your dick. Or your ass.”

  Jeremy guffawed. “It’s all I dream about.”

  With a mixture of reluctance and relief, Nevin drove over to P-Town. The joint was jumping, which was usual for a Sunday afternoon, but Jeremy had scored a good table by the window. He sat there, a mountain of competent calm, while Nevin waited in line.

  “How’s the dissertation?” Nevin asked Ptolemy when it was his turn.

  “Ugh. Maybe I should give it up and spend my life making coffee instead.”

  “You’re good at making coffee. But you’ll be better when you get that doctor in front of your name and you’re bossing the peons like me around.”

  Ptolemy laughed and handed over Nevin’s coffee, along with a plate containing an oversized cookie.

  “I haven’t had lunch yet,” Nevin protested.

  “It’s oatmeal raisin, so it’s practically health food.”

  Nevin paid for his coffee, accepted the free cookie with a wink, and wended his way to Jeremy’s table.

  “Why the ape-man-like threats?” Nevin asked as he sat down. “We just saw each other yesterday. Can’t last one more minute without my company?”

  “Yep. I was dying, right here.” Jeremy slapped a paw over his heart. He flashed his dopy, handsome grin and slurped his coffee. “I had to cancel the hike because of a work emergency this morning. But then I scored some tickets to the Blazers’ opening game. Want a couple for you and Ford? They’re playing the Pelicans.”

  It briefly crossed Nevin’s mind to ask for three tickets and invite Colin, but he rejected the idea immediately. The game was over a month away, and he’d be long gone from Colin’s life by then.

  “They’re floor seats,” Jeremy said, perhaps taking Nevin’s pause for hesitancy.

  “Who’d you have to blow to get those?”

  “Some of us, Nevin, can accomplish things without sexual favors.”

  “Where’s the fun in that?” But then Nevin remembered what it had felt like to wake up cuddled against Colin—a man he had not fucked the night before—and a sneaky little smile stole onto his face. “I’ll take a pair,” he said before he could dissolve into a puddle of mush.

  “They’re all yours. Want another so you can bring someone?”

  Nevin shook his head hard. “Just mine and Ford’s.”

  “Okay. A couple of guys from work will be joining us, plus Amy Lassiter. You know her, right?”

  “Sure.” She was with the DA’s office, and Nevin had testified in a couple of her cases. She was good. “Sounds like you’ve got quite a shindig planned.”

  Jeremy shrugged. “I have a bunch of tickets. I asked Rhoda, but she said she can’t stand the shoes squeaking on the floor. Huh. I wonder if Parker would drive down from Seattle and join us. A little break might be fun for him.”

  Nevin snorted. It figured; Jeremy was trying to rescue someone again. It was a real fixation for him. Someday he’d learn he couldn’t save the whole damned world. Couldn’t save most of it, even.

  One of the good things about Jeremy was that he could be quiet. Not that there was anything wrong with his conversation; he was a smart guy who knew a lot of random interesting shit. But he was also perfectly content to keep his trap shut, to sit with someone and just people watch. His presence tended to have a calming influence on Nevin, as if that big body were exerting a special gravitational field.

  They sat and drank their coffee, Nevin ate his cookie, and they let everyone else’s conversations wash gently over them. At one point they both tensed when it looked like a pair of bicyclists outside were about to beat the crap out of each other over a near-collision. But then one of the cyclists rode away in a huff, and Nevin and Jeremy relaxed.

  “Twats,” Nevin mumbled.

  “Just people. It’s easy to get worked up, especially when the adrenaline is flowing.”

  “You never get worked up.” When Jeremy had been one of the few openly gay cops in the bureau, his ability to keep his cool even under miserable circumstances had eased his way with colleagues. Even the worst homophobes were grateful to have a serene giant as backup. When the shit went down, where your partner liked to stick his dick was a lot less important than whether he was likely to get you killed. Nevin had always been out too, but in his case, nobody gave him shit because he’d kick their asses if they tried.

  “I get angry too, Nevin. I just try not to take it out on anyone else.”

  Nevin lifted his cup in salute. “Saint Jeremy.”

  “And you’re that little horned devil sitting on everyone’s shoulder?”

  “Fuck yeah.”

  When there was a lull at the counter, Jeremy fetched them refills. “Did you get any sleep last night?” he asked a few minutes after retaking his seat.

  Nevin thought immediately of Colin’s big comfortable bed, the mellow morning light shining in through the windows, Leg’s rumbling purr. And Colin, warm and sleeping beside him. “Yeah,” he answered defensively.

  “I just thought with the Grey case and that burned girl….” As he trailed off, a smile played at the corners of his lips. “Ah. You hooked up with someone.”

  “Fucking right I did.” Jeremy didn’t need to know the night had involved dinner, Rocky Horror, and a sleepover without sex. He might read too much into what was clearly a fluke.

  “Whatever gets you through the night,” said Jeremy.

  “Isn’t that a song? Elton John or someone?”

  Jeremy shook his head in mock despair. But he also seemed relieved, and Nevin realized this Kaffeeklatsch had been another of Jeremy’s rescue attempts, in this case aimed at Nevin.

  “I don’t need a goddamn hero, Germy. I can take care of myself.”

  Jeremy sighed. “You always have, right?”

  NORMALLY NEVIN would have had no trouble concentrating on work, where he had more interviews to conduct on the Gillett case as well as piles of paperwork. Other tasks crowded his schedule, too, such as a senior-center talk on avoiding Internet scams and some visits to group homes for developmentally disabled people. But Nevin spent the week trying not to think about Colin, whose image sometimes intruded at damned inconvenient times. Nevin ran long and hard in the mornings and visited the gym in the evenings, but when he ate at all, it was whatever crap he could grab on the fly.

  He didn’t feel good. Maybe he was coming down with the flu.

  On Friday night he worked until well past dark. He got into Julie and nearly steered her over to the Pearl District—and Colin’s loft—before pulling over on Broadway and poking at his phone.

  “Meet me somewhere,” he barked when Ford answered.

  “Where?”

  “Don’t care. Anywhere with booze and women.” Because he was thinking that maybe if he had sex with a woman—a voluptuous one with big tits and rounded hips—he’d shake Colin out of his head.

  Ford was silent, then cleared his throat. “Um, how about if we go somewhere quieter instead?”

  Shit. That sounded foreboding. “Yeah, okay.”

  They ended up at a diner not far from Nevin’s place. That was good on two counts—he could eat for the first time that day and he was across the river from Colin. The Willamette really wasn’t much of a barrier since there were plenty of bridges, but it provided psychological distance, at least.

  Nevin arrived at the diner first and commandeered a big corner booth. By the time Ford got there, Nevin already had a coffee and had studied the menu. Ford had already eaten and just ordered a Coke, but Nevin asked for a burger and fries.

  “You look like shit,” Ford observed.

  “Fuck you very much.”

  “I’m serious, bro. You got bags under your eyes, and I swear you’ve lost weight since I saw you last. What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. Just up to my neck in shit at work. You’re the one who sounded so fucking ominous when I called. What the hell’s going on?”

  Ford shifted, making the vinyl seat squeak, and pointed his gaze at one of the entirely unremarkable prints hanging on the wall. His scalp was freshly shaved, and he was sporting a new mustache. It looked good on him. He’d dressed up a bit too, in a white button-down and new-looking jeans. But the fingernails tapping on the tabletop were a landscaper’s—ragged and permanently stained from his work in the soil.

  Nevin leaned toward him. “If you don’t spit it out, I’m going to yank your tongue out of your goddamn mouth.”

  For some reason the threat appeared to relax Ford a bit. He gave a weak smile. “Got a new tattoo.”

  “That’s what’s got your panties twisted? Unless it’s my face on your ass, what the fuck do I care?”

  Instead of answering, Ford unbuttoned his left cuff and painstakingly rolled up the sleeve. His arms were already heavily inked, but a few blank spaces remained. He pointed to a spot on the underside of his forearm, between a thorny rosebush and some kind of tribal symbol. Nevin peered closely.

  “It’s a human heart with the letter K in it,” Nevin said, even though Ford undoubtedly knew that.

  “Yep.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Um… remember Katie?”

  Nevin did. She was the old flame Ford had been sleeping with recently. “She’s the K?”

  “Yeah, and… she’s, uh, my fiancée, actually.”

  After a moment of gaping, Nevin buried his head in his hands. “You knocked her up. You stupid fuck, we’ve talked about keeping helmets on our dicks since we were kids, and you—”

  “She’s not pregnant.” Ford looked sheepish when Nevin glanced at him. “We did kinda have a scare. She’s on the pill, but we thought…. Well, anyway, she’s not pregnant. But for a day or so we thought she might be, and that got us talking.”

  “About what? What fucking idiots you are?”

  “We’re not idiots!” Ford looked apologetic over his outburst when the waitress arrived with his drink and Nevin’s food. She pointedly ignored him and stalked away. He continued in a calmer voice. “The scare got us thinking, is all. And the thing is, we both decided that maybe settling down—even having a kid—wouldn’t be such a bad thing.”

  Nevin poured ketchup onto his burger before taking a vicious bite, chewing, and swallowing. “Having a cold isn’t such a bad thing either. Doesn’t mean you should go out and fucking get infected.”

  “Why are you so pissed off about this? You don’t know Katie well enough to hate her.”

  “You don’t know her all that well either. You guys broke up ages ago, and now you’ve been seeing each other for only a few weeks, right? And you’re talking till death do you part? And babies?” He shuddered.

  “Yeah, babies, Nev. I want to be a daddy. I mean, I never learned anything from that shitbag who fathered me, but I really think I can do better.”