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snorted at himself, at his stupid fancies, trying to pretend he was human and whole again. His eyes burned more from the damned sun, that was all it was, and he shot up into the air like a just-fired missile. He wasnā€™t trying to flee from his thoughtsā€”that never workedā€”but if he could just lose himself in the beauty around him for a while, heā€™d take it. It was the only thing he could really have anymore.

Chapter Three

Ro couldnā€™t explain it, but he had felt the oddest sensation when heā€™d been talking to Sev. It was almost like heā€™d heard a buzzing in his head, then Sev had shushed him and Ro had known Conner was in the room. It was kind of like the way heā€™d felt the other day at dinner when Conner had shown up, but this time it was more intense.

Conner Sutherland. Ro had of course heard stories about Laineā€™s deceased lover. Heā€™d even Googled the man years ago. The horrific account of Connerā€™s death had made him cry. The tragic parting of lovers had twisted his youthful heart into a knot of regret for Laine and Conner.

Then Ro had met Laine, and seen how much Sev loved him, and vice versa. He supposed it was fate or something that had brought Laine and Sev together. Or Conner. Ro liked to think Conner had loved Laine enough to want him to be happy in this life.

Ro pulled a file out of his desk drawer. Heā€™d put the clippings together what seemed like ages ago, when heā€™d been a young, dumb kid full of romantic idealism. He snorted at that innocent boy now. The only romance heā€™d ever have would be in his head, unless he left the town of McKinton. Gay men werenā€™t exactly falling off tree limbs here. Ro snickered, imagining sexy studs floating to the ground like leaves on a fall breeze. McKinton would become a very popular town if that were to happen.

Inside the folder were articles Ro had printed out and clippings from actual newspapers. Different cases were tagged with colored tabs, but it was the blue ones he found himself fingering. Ro didnā€™t know whether to be amused by himself or disgusted. Maybe he was pathetic for not wanting to leave town and have a different life, but he didnā€™t care. He had to do what his conscience told him to. And he had to listen to his heart. Heā€™d tried ignoring both a time or two and, granted, thatā€™d been out of sexual curiosity, but what a disaster each one had been.

Ro pulled out the picture heā€™d been seeking. The colors were fading on it, but he could still see Connerā€™s blond hair and bright blue eyes well enough. There was that secretive smile, and it just hurt Ro to know the manā€™s life had been cut short. Hereā€™s a man who had more to offer the worldā€¦

A knock on his bedroom door startled Ro into slamming the folder shut without tucking Connerā€™s picture away. ā€œYeah?ā€ he called out as he set the papers down and leaped up from his chair.

ā€œSon, can I come in?ā€

ā€œSure, Dad. Itā€™s not locked.ā€ Ro opened the door, though, because his dad wouldnā€™t ever just walk in. Once Ro had turned eighteen, heā€™d been afforded as much privacy as he could have when still living in his parentsā€™ home.

His dad looked old, and tired. Roā€™s breath hitched as he asked, ā€œHowā€™d Momā€™s appointment go today?ā€ Normally heā€™d have checked in on her himself, but her door had been shut and his dad had been in there with her.

Roger walked in and sat on Roā€™s bed, slumping as if his shoulders couldnā€™t carry their burdens any longer. Roger was only twenty-one years older than Ro, but he looked like a man in his sixties rather than in his late forties just then.

Roger ran a hand down his face, then curled his fingers into a fist and rubbed at one eye. ā€œDr. Hebert doesnā€™t think sheā€™ll beā€”ā€ Rogerā€™s voice broke, his breath catching on a sob. Ro darted to the bed and sat beside his father, embracing him awkwardly owing to their positioning. ā€œHe doesnā€™t think sheā€™ll make it more than a few months. Her kidneys are barely functioning, and Alma wouldnā€™t accept a transplant even if she were eligible.ā€

ā€œNo, she always said she wouldnā€™t,ā€ Ro murmured. His mama was terrified that her loved ones would develop the same disease she had, and wasnā€™t willing to let them donate a kidney when it might very well cost them their life later on. Add to the diabetes the heart disease that was killing her and there was no hope left for Ro. He couldnā€™t stop the tears, and didnā€™t care that he was almost thirty, sobbing in his fatherā€™s arms. They were going to lose his mama, and heā€™d never be ashamed of mourning that, of mourning her.

Roger cried right along with him, great sobs that shook the bed even if they werenā€™t very loud. Neither of them would risk Alma hearing them. Ro felt scalded inside, as if heā€™d been made raw from the pain of knowing the loss theyā€™d soon face. It wasnā€™t a surpriseā€”theyā€™d had years to see it coming, but there simply was no way to truly prepare for the loss of someone you loved so much.

ā€œI need to call your brother and sister,ā€ Roger said some time later, the words tickling over the top of Roā€™s head as his dadā€™s exhale ruffled his hair.

ā€œI canā€”ā€ Ro started but his dad cut him off.

ā€œNo, itā€™s my job as their papa,ā€ Roger said. He tugged gently on Roā€™s long hair until Ro looked up at him. Rogerā€™s eyes were swollen and red, as was his nose, but he was still the big, strong man Ro had always admired. ā€œYou can go sit with your mama for a while, if you want to. Sheā€™s sleeping, butā€¦ā€

But it might be one of the last chances

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