They ate. They laughed over Gavin’s recounting of his adventure to the grocery store via Uber, with a driver who wanted fashion advice since everyone knew gay men were “fashionistas.”

“Did you tell him that your gay fashion sense was broken?” CJ asked with a straight face, as they all eyed Gavin’s Hawaiian board shorts and surf-shop T-shirt that had seen better days a decade ago.

Winnie then told everyone she’d fixed the downstairs bathroom’s plumbing with Gorilla Tape, and had submitted a video of it to the people who made the tape because she was convinced she belonged in a commercial.

Emmitt just seemed happy to be included. Cam looked around the table, watching the heckling, the laughter—even the bickering all felt . . . good. He knew there were huge problems lurking just beneath the surface, but for now it felt like a happy family moment, and he made eye contact with Piper. And while he knew his expression probably said he was enjoying this, hers was Oh, shit, I’m enjoying this.

CJ’s phone went off. He read a text and rose, giving Gavin an apologetic look. “Sorry. I’ve gotta go.”

Piper’s phone went off as well. “Me too. There’s been a shooting at the convenience store. Everyone stay home until I know more.”

Cam had spent his entire adult life being the one to be called in, being the guy in charge of emergencies, always the one to tell people to stay back and let him handle things. Being the one in danger, being in the center of the action and in charge was the only way to control the outcome and make sure everyone stayed safe.

So watching Piper walk out the door toward danger while he stayed back was one of the hardest things he’d ever done.

“Yeah,” Gavin said quietly, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Sucks to be the one left behind, doesn’t it?”

Chapter 22

“As it turned out, there really were several layers of stupid.”

Gavin sat at the kitchen table, Sweet Cheeks asleep on his lap as he worked on his computer on the B&B website. He was tentatively calling it the Rainbow Lodge and was having fun with that at midnight when Piper finally got home.

She practically crawled through the door, exhaustion etched across her face. And something more too. Grief, probably, for whatever she’d seen on the job. Though upon second glance, it seemed deeper, like it’d brought up remembered horrors from her past.

Their past.

His own memories were extremely conflicted, and he liked to pretend he didn’t remember a lot of it. But that was a big, fat lie. He remembered everything.