“I’d die for any of my kids, and I’d die twice over for our grandkids.”
“So would I. But as much as you want to protect Branson from the painful things he’s going to experience from this, you can’t. He needs to feel those emotions. We need to support him when he asks, and to give him space when he asks. And to let him lead in how and when people find out.”
“How can we keep this from Braun and Tarek? Or the other kids?”
“I don’t want to, but those papers were sent to Branson. This is his secret, especially until we know for sure that Chip Uty is Jeuel Alder’s sire. Until we have DNA proof that Branson and Jeuel are related, we shouldn’t tell anyone else.”
“What about Tarius? He heard everything.”
“He did. And he stood by our son like a man half-in-love. I like them together.”
“So do I.” Kell smiled for the first time in at least two hours. “Branson did say his date to the Gala was the guy he’s been seeing for a few months. I’m not sure I like the age difference, but it isn’t as if some of our friends don’t have big ones. I’m just happy he’s found someone who obviously supports him. He’s going to need all the support he can get while he works through this.”
“Yes, he will.” Ronin kissed him gently on the mouth. “Come on, let’s get ready for bed. There’s nothing else we can do tonight.”
“Okay. I’m glad we’re in this together, my heart.”
“Always, little one. Always.”
EIGHT
Branson struggledto wake the next morning, barely tempted by the bitter aroma of coffee, because he felt like he’d been hit by a truck. His head ached, his eyes were sandy, and his insides were ripped to shreds. He blinked at the other side of his bed, confused by the messy covers, until the previous night rushed back.
The papers. Chip Uty. Tarius taking care of him like the perfect, supportive boyfriend. Thank goddess Branson didn’t have to work today, or he’d have called out. And he didn’t want to start the new year by taking time off. He’d need those hours whenever he was supposed to answer the court summons in Sonora Province.
Tarius walked in dressed in a pair of Branson’s sleep pants, a mug of coffee in each hand. “Black, two sugars,” he said. “How’s your head?”
He adored Tarius for not asking how he was. How could he be anything except still confused and upset? “Hurts. What time is it?”
“A little after eight. I couldn’t really sleep, so I made coffee. When you made a noise, I figured you’d woken up.”
Branson carefully accepted one mug. “Thanks. For everything.”
“Anything you need.” Tarius eased onto Branson’s side of the bed, his own mug carefully balanced. “Your omegin texted a little while ago, asking how you were. I told him you were asleep.”
“Okay.” Wait. “He didn’t ask me to call him?”
“No. I think he’s giving you space to reach out first, which we both know is not easy for him.”
“Like any of this is easy for me?”
“Of course, it isn’t. I mean Kell not reaching out when he knows one of his kids is hurting.”
Branson grunted and sipped the coffee. “He knows I won’t talk to him right now.” A memory of his omegin’s face last night, so scared and upset, twisted Branson’s gut into knots. Dad was hurting, too, but that pain was not his to soothe. Not this time. Dad had Papa. Just like Branson had Tarius. A man he adored, who’d stuck by him through so many challenges this past year and a half.
They’d stuck by each other.
“Do you feel like breakfast?” Tarius asked. “I have no idea what you’ve got in the kitchen, but I can run out for food.”
“I’ll probably nibble on some dry cereal. But there’s eggs and bread for toast. I think some sausages in the freezer. Make what you like for yourself.”
After a quick stop in the bathroom so Branson could whizz and wash his face, he and Tarius settled at the small kitchen table with bowls of cereal, Tarius’s with milk and a sliced-up banana. They didn’t talk; they didn’t need to.
At eight-forty, Branson’s landline rang. He eyeballed it with annoyance before answering. “Yeah?”
“What’s wrong?” Emory asked in a soft, breathy voice.
“Huh?” He stared at the corkboard over his phone, where he pinned important messages, business cards, and other reminders.
