“If you tip high enough, the concierge will do just about anything for you. I figured we could watch the fireworks from here.”
“When you go for romantic, you go all out, don’t you?”
“Only way to go.” Zane knelt and crawled onto the blanket, straightened the edges out where they’d blown over, then turned around, still on one knee, and held his hand out. Ty took it, meeting Zane’s eyes in the flickering light. Zane hesitated, looking up at him with brown eyes that seemed to have gone liquid in the low light. Time seemed to slow.
Ty found himself short of breath, and he had no idea why.
Zane bent his head to kiss Ty’s fingers, breaking the little spell he’d cast, and then he tugged Ty down to join him on the blanket.
They stretched out on their backs, looking up at the velvet sky and holding hands.
“Thank you, Ty,” Zane whispered.
Ty turned his head to look at Zane’s profile. “For what?”
“Everything.”
Zane pushed up onto his side. His face was shadowed, but Ty knew every inch of it by heart. He saw those eyes in his sleep. He reached to slide the tips of his fingers against Zane’s lips, and Zane bent to kiss him, his hands tucking under Ty’s body.
The first pop of pre-emptive Fourth of July fireworks over the Alamo made them both jump, and Zane turned so they could watch the fire rain down from the sky through the branches of their oak tree. Another shot soared into the air, bursting into flickering flames of red, white, and blue. People began to hoot and holler. No one was paying them any attention.
Zane looked down at Ty, and Ty grinned. This was nothing special for Ty. In his world, every time Zane’s lips touched his, something somewhere caught fire.
Zane rolled onto his back again, resting his head on Ty’s stomach as they watched the show. It was impressive and loud, with each burst of color and flame followed by whoops and shouts from the people gathered around the Alamo and in the streets of San Antonio.
Ty carded his fingers through Zane’s hair. The moment felt heavy. As if it were fated for something of great importance, like there was something they should have been doing but weren’t. It wasn’t necessarily a bad feeling, just something they were letting pass them by.
“Ty?” Zane said after the last of the fireworks had faded into trails of smoke in the sky.
“Yeah?”
“Would you be willing to come back here with me? To the ranch, I mean, if we came back for Thanksgiving, or . . .”
“I’d go anywhere you wanted me to.”
Zane sat up and turned until he was resting on his elbows and looking down at Ty. “Will you tell me something if I ask?”
Ty frowned at the odd way the question was posed. He had a feeling he knew where Zane was going, and though it made him uncomfortable and tense, he nodded.
“What happened to you in the Marines?”
Ty’s stomach flip-flopped and he swallowed hard. It was a question Zane had every right to ask, and it was one Ty had hoped he never would.
Ty licked his lips, his mind racing. “I can’t . . . I can’t tell you all of it.”
“What can you tell me?”
Ty swallowed hard, hesitating as he stared into Zane’s eyes. “I . . . I was taken prisoner on a Recon mission in Afghanistan. The op is still classified and we were never officially prisoners of war. But I guess it’s something you should know. Classified or not.”
Zane nodded and took one of Ty’s hands. “You and Nick, right?”
Ty stared at him, mouth hanging open. “You’re not surprised. Do I hide it that poorly?”
“No. But I’d suspected that before. I overheard you and Nick talking when he came to visit that first time. I’ve been sleeping with you for the better part of a year. You speak in Farsi. I try to wake you when the dreams are the worst.”
Ty nodded. They both had nightmares. It wasn’t something they discussed often.
Zane finally glanced up to meet Ty’s eyes. “And then Nick told me, when we were on his boat.”
Ty’s eyes widened. “He told you?”
Zane nodded, wincing.
“How much?”
“All of it.”
Ty reached up and put a hand over his mouth, feeling sick.
“Ty?” Zane whispered. He ran his hand over Ty’s face.
Ty had to try twice before he got the words out. “I’ve just never dealt with anyone knowing about it.”
“I’m sorry.”
Ty shook his head, trying to shrug it off. “You should know. You should know all of it.”
“Will you tell me?”
Ty peered deep into the sincerity and worry, the love and devotion shining in Zane’s eyes. “Yeah. I can’t . . . I’ll tell you more than I should.”
Zane smiled a smile so brilliant it rivaled the fireworks. Ty slid his hand over Zane’s chest and up his shoulders. Then his fingers were dragging over Zane’s neck, his thumb digging in near Zane’s ear as he pulled him closer and kissed him.
Zane scooted over to rest half on top of him, and Ty lifted a knee to let Zane settle between his legs. The longer they kissed, the less urgent the past seemed.
Zane finally pulled back with a low growl. “Do you feel lucky enough to be fucked in a National Landmark without getting arrested?”
Ty barked a laugh. “You’ve lost your damn mind.”
Zane’s head felt heavy as he and Ty tromped up the front steps. They’d spent a solid two days traipsing across Texas, and the only attention they’d attracted was from an overly flirtatious denizen of San Antonio who Ty had almost decked before Zane could drag him away.
They were home with just hours to spare, and Zane’s mother had requested his presence, citing something of great importance she wanted to discuss before the Steers and Stripes Barbeque began.
“Any ideas?” Ty asked.
“No, but I am ever the optimist,” Zane grumbled as he led the way into the big house. They could hear the others in the kitchen, gathering supplies and making preparations. “Go ahead. I’ll see what Mother wants and be there in a bit.”
Ty nodded distractedly as he took his gun and checked it. It’d become a habit of his every time he entered or exited the house, and like every new quirk Zane noticed Ty developing, it fascinated him. He turned to head for the drawing room, but he stopped in the doorway and peered in before entering.
Beverly was sitting at her desk, papers spread out around her.
Zane walked into the richly decorated room. “You wanted to see me, Mother?”
Beverly looked up, surprised. Zane glanced around the room, the same sense of foreboding assaulting him as when he’d been little and gotten in trouble. This time, it seemed, Beverly was nervous too.
She offered him a weak smile and stood. She was dressed in one of her pristine white suits and had her hair pulled back in a chignon. Surprisingly, a few red and blue ribbons were woven into her hair, a delicate touch of whimsy for the party on an otherwise staid and severe visage.
“I’ve been having a crisis of conscience, Zane.”
Only Zane’s years of practice at hiding his emotions let him cover any outward reaction. Inside, he went cold. He’d gotten that ability from his mother.
He knew what this was about, and he prayed he’d misjudged her. He swallowed hard. “Excuse me?”
“You’re my only son, Zane, and I have loved you in the only way I know how. I have tried to hold my tongue when you made your decisions. I prayed that you would come home to us, in one piece, and find solace in your family. But I’ve seen these past days that you’ve chosen to get your comfort elsewhere. And it is one place I cannot in good conscience allow you to go.”
“Mother,” Zane said, surprised when his voice came out hoarse and tight.
“You are the last Garrett in a long line, Zane. This family needs you in more ways than you can imagine.”
Her words were like ice, biting and sharp, and each one cut Zane deeper. How could she not care one iota that he was happy now? He tried to stay calm as he spoke. “Mother, we’ve beaten this horse to rawhide. I’m not coming back to Texas, much less to anything else you seem to think is my duty. I certainly won’t marry some woman I don’t love just to produce another generation of miserable Garretts.”
“You seem to have no problem flaunting your . . . your what? Friend? I don’t even know what to call him,” Beverly said, her lips twisted into an ugly frown as she stalked around her desk.
“His name is Ty. You can call him my partner. Or my boyfriend. How about prospective son-in-law?”
“Zane Zachary Garrett!” Beverly slapped her hand on the desktop, cheeks flushing. “I will not stand for it! I will not ruin this family’s name by having a son who thinks he’s gay simply because he’s got an easy screw on hand!”
Zane’s eyes widened, and the anger he’d been trying to hold back broke free. “You are totally out of line.”
“As are you,” Beverly snapped. “He is after your money, pure and simple.”
“You don’t even know him. You’ve said all of three words to him, all of them cruel.”
“I know his type, and they’re all the same no matter what parts they have.”
“I guarantee you’ve never met his type before.”
“Zane.”
“I love him, Mother. And he loves me. It has nothing to do with money.”
“Did he tell you he loved you before or after you mentioned your family was wealthy?”
Her proposition was patently ridiculous, but his analytical mind was forced to stop and a take a moment to consider the answer anyway. It had been after, in fact, but it didn’t matter.
His pause made Beverly close her eyes and sigh deeply. She seemed truly tortured by the revelation, and for a brief moment her defenses dropped and Zane could see the war behind her mask. She was torn between love of her son and prejudices and preconceptions she had held all her life.
Zane stepped forward, desperate to use that torment to his advantage. “Mother. Please, just give him a chance. You said you have only one son, but you could have two if you’d just see him for what he is.”
She pressed her lips into a thin line, fighting not to show any more emotion than she had. She knew it was a weakness Zane would exploit, and she made an effort to bury it away again, right in front of his eyes.
Zane understood suddenly, the realization hitting him like a blast of cold water, what Ty had seen him do so many times.
He was stunned into silence by how badly it hurt.
Beverly took a deep breath. She put her hand on his chest, and when she spoke, her voice wavered. “Have I ever told you how proud I am of you?”
The pain dug deep inside him, and Zane had to choke on a breath to fight back tears. “No, ma’am.”
She pursed her trembling lips and gave a jerky nod. A tear broke free as she stepped closer and hugged him. Her head barely came to his chest. Zane realized he was crying as he hugged her. She felt old and fragile, so very fragile in his hands.
She pushed away and turned, wiping her eyes as she paced away. “I simply can’t, Zane,” she said, her voice ragged but gaining conviction. She shook her head. “You can’t have it both ways.”
“Both ways?”
“You can have your family, Zane. Or you can have him.”
Zane took a step back before he realized he’d given ground. While they had always argued over these things, never had his mother been so cold, so ruthless, and he couldn’t even absorb it as he stared at her. His stomach was roiling.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Zane,” she said with an almost-sympathetic tilt of her head. “It’s my job to protect this family at all costs. You’re my son. But you’re also a drunk and an addict, you’ve got a worthless job with no future, and you’re a widower who’s taken up with another man.”
“I—”
“He’s not interested in you, Zane, merely your family’s fortune. Can’t you see that? He’s no more than a whore who works on credit!”
“That’s too far,” Zane whispered.
“I will not have you running off and marrying that man to give him access to the family’s money.”
“Mother.”
“If you choose him, I will draw up a statement of disavowment, Zane.” Her voice was shaking, but she clearly meant it. “You will be cut off from the family’s fortune to protect it.”
Zane thought he might throw up right there on the carpet. She actually believed this would put him in his place.
“It’s really very simple,” Beverly said. She took a step toward him and put her hands on his arm. “You don’t even have to go back to Baltimore. All you have to do is call in to start the retirement paperwork. We love you, Zane. You need to be at home.”
The bile rising in his throat kept him from answering. There was roaring in his ears, and he wanted to roar along with it and rail at her, but he couldn’t find the words. She’d never had a chance, despite what she thought.
“You’re talking about my partner. The man I love.”
“Zane. Blood is thicker than water.”
Zane’s body went cold. “Mother, he’s shed more blood for me than you ever will.”
He turned and headed for the door.
“I’m not bluffing, Zane!” she called after him. “At least think about it!”
Zane rushed out of the house, blinded by rage so intense he thought he might injure himself if he didn’t dispel it somehow. He shoved the front door open and began to pace on the front porch, dragging his hand through his hair.