9

“I don’t fucking care, Sam.” He swallowed hard, getting the fuck out of the room before she could try to make him feel sorry for her. She was good at that. Jami was probably going to be mad at him too now for not being all nice to his little sister. He dropped onto the sofa in the living room and brought a throw cushion up over his head to smother the angry shout he couldn’t hold in anymore.

How could one night—especially a night after a win—go so damn wrong?

Seemed like a long time before Jami and his sister went to bed. The house was quiet with him just lying there in the dark. Bear had curled up on his legs, stinking up the air with a fart, reminding Luke why he didn’t let his dog eat people food.

Heavy footsteps crossed the room. Luke held his breath, sensing Seb standing over him, not sure whether he should pretend to be asleep or see if Seb wanted to talk. Maybe it would be better to leave the talking to tomorrow rather than tonight when everything just kept getting worse.

Seb slid his hand around the back of Luke’s neck, speaking in a low voice that made Luke shiver. “Get up, niño.”

Luke sat up. Opened his mouth. Then shut it when Seb’s grip on his neck tightened.

“I am disappointed in you. We will not speak of it tonight, but one thing has not changed.” Seb trapped Luke with his hard gaze as Luke stood. His lip quirked a little at the edge when Luke swallowed hard. “No matter what happens, you belong with me.”

Pressing his eyes shut, overwhelmed with relief and regret all muddled together, Luke nodded. “Yes, Sir. But I have to tell you—”

“Not a word.”

Right. Luke nodded again and let Seb lead him to their bedroom. He smiled a little as he climbed into bed and Jami immediately snuggled up to his side. She usually slept in the middle when she stayed over, but Seb had made it clear that’s where he wanted Luke right now.

Which was really weird because he’d managed to get in the doghouse with both of them. If not the sofa, he should probably be sleeping on the floor. Or at the foot of the bed with Bear who’d hopped up and circled a few times before flopping down and passing out.

Tipping his head to the side so his cheek rested on Seb’s shoulder, Luke spoke quietly. “Can I ask you one thing, Sir?”

Seb chuckled, stretching his arm out behind Luke to smooth his hand over Jami’s hair. “If you must.”

“You’re mad at me, so I don’t get why you’d want me in here.”

“I’ve explained that already, niño.” Seb closed his eyes. And said it again, the one thing that let Luke know everything was gonna be okay. “This is where you belong.”

* * * *

The sandpaper scraping against the soft wood was damn therapeutic. Scott blew away the sawdust and ran his hand over the leg of the rocking horse he was making for Landon’s baby. There were a lot of small details in the design, and he’d been working on it for a while between projects. Amia was still a bit too young for it, but she’d enjoy it for years and he wanted to make sure it was perfect.

He needed to make it perfect. To focus on the wood and the design and not on seeing Zach and Zovko kissing. He hauled in air and the sawdust floating around him, blinking fast because all that dust irritated his eyes. And tightened his throat.

And he was full of shit.

Fuck! He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand and punched his work table. The pain reverberated up his arm. What the hell was he supposed to do? Zach and Becky were married and she wasn’t going to divorce him over a kiss.

Do you want her to?

He didn’t. Despite what had happened, he still loved Zach and didn’t want him going anywhere. But did Zach want to stay—no, wait. That wasn’t really the question, was it? He’d dealt with Zach doing scenes with others in the past, but only because he wasn’t threatened by the people Zach played with. Zovko was a different story.

Zovko fits here so much better than I do.

Dropping the sandpaper, he combed both fingers through his hair. Damn it, he wanted another drink. Only he wouldn’t drink here, wouldn’t be like that with Casey in the house. He wouldn’t have come home if he hadn’t sobered up enough. And he tried never to be stupid enough to need to make that choice. He had been the one to tell Zach they should be home for Casey in the morning. He’d almost fucked that up.

But you’re here.

Yeah, but for how long? The issue wasn’t Zach’s past with another man. Scott had thought about that a lot and knew it wouldn’t be a problem if he wasn’t so fucking scared about how easily he could be replaced.

He and Zach had talked about Zovko. Zach insisted there was nothing there, but the way he’d kissed the man… That wasn’t nothing.

“Scott?”

In the doorway from the garage to the kitchen, Zach stood in his blue plaid pajama pants, bare chested, bare footed, looking all sexy and tired.

The bastard. Would be so much easier to put some distance between them if Scott could look at his lover without wanting him. But he couldn’t, so he went back to sanding. “What do you want, Zach?”

“Come to bed. We’ve got practice in the morning, but we’ll have time to discuss this after Casey goes to school.” Zach walked down the three steps below the door. From the corner of his eye, Scott saw him hook his thumbs to the waist of his pajama pants. “On the drive maybe?”

Scott shook his head. “I’m taking my own car. But thanks for the offer.”

“We have to talk.”

“Then talk.”

“Not while you’re still drunk and being unreasonable.”

I’m gonna fucking punch him. Scott hissed in a breath through his gritted teeth. He wouldn’t shout. Wanted to, but he wouldn’t risk waking Casey up. “I’m being unreasonable? Guess I was drunk and seeing things, right? You weren’t actually kissing your ex-boyfriend?”

“It’s not what you think. Christ, Scott, this could destroy your career with the Cobras! If Raif hadn’t dropped the charges—”

“Yeah, I’m grateful. Guess I should let him have you so we’ll be even.”

“Don’t be like that. I’m not the one who stole his fucking car.” Zach made an irritated sound as Scott started sanding again. He latched on to Scott’s arm. “Will you stop and look at me? I told you that I don’t want him.”

Jerking away, Scott crumpled the sandpaper in his hand and stared at Zach. Something inside him had gone still and cold. Maybe it was acceptance. “Yes. And you showed me I can’t believe you.”

When Zach went back into the house, Scott got out a finer grained sandpaper. And went back to doing the one thing he could without doubting the results. The things he made turned out beautiful and solid and would last a lifetime.

Everything else…he bowed his head, laughing as a single tear slipped from his chin and dropped on a small pile of sawdust. Everything else he found some way to fuck up.