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And in the end, I did. Before she could talk to my parents, Mrs. Taylor left after finding out she was pregnant. After that, I helped Tiago with his homework, checking his papers and correcting his mistakes. When his grades dropped too low, I let him copy some of my answers or even swapped tests and filled out some of the stuff for him. We had the same handwriting anyway. No one ever knew, though some teachers might have suspected. But it wasn’t Tiago’s fault his brain wouldn’t cooperate, now was it? I wasn’t gonna let him be punished for something he couldn’t control.
And nothing and no one was ever gonna separate us, especially not some stupid reading problem. Tiago was my brother, and I’d always have his back.
1
FIR
I needed a break. Fifteen minutes to myself, without anyone talking to me. Was that too much to ask?
A faint headache was brewing in my forehead, the inevitable result of yet another night without enough sleep. Every morning, my watch reminded me I had missed my sleep goal of seven hours again, as if seeing that would somehow magically fix everything and allow me to get a good night’s sleep. I couldn’t even remember the last time I got more than five hours.
Most likely, BSD—Before Samuel’s Death. As opposed to ASD—After Samuel’s Death.
BSD and ASD had become how I measured things, the watershed turning points in my life. They represented the shift from the life I’d always dreamed of to one I’d never thought I would lead, one that was a struggle every single day. All I’d ever wanted was to find happiness with the love of my life and to raise a family together. And I’d had all that…until fate had cruelly taken it away and, with it, my joy and sanity.
Being the only doctor in a small town was stressful enough, but doing it as a single dad of two teenagers? Zero out of ten, do not recommend.
I needed a break, preferably with some caffeine, which meant there was only one place I could go. “I’ll be back in twenty,” I told Jill, my assistant, and hightailed it out of my office before she could remind me of my call sheet. If no one was dying—and Jill would’ve physically stopped me if there had been an emergency—people could damn well wait until I was back.
As I stepped into Brianna’s Bakery, the warm scent of freshly baked bread and sweet pastries wafted my way. Brianna nodded and signaled for me to sit at my usual table in the corner, which was empty, thankfully. She knew my order, though the pastry she’d bring with my latte was always a surprise. It would have fat and sugar, and other than that, I couldn’t possibly care less.
“Here you go.” Brianna set my latte in front of me as well as a massive slice of Dutch apple pie with a dollop of whipped cream next to it. God bless Brianna’s Dutch husband. Since meeting him, Brianna had treated us all to the most delicious Dutch goodies, and I hadn’t tasted one I didn’t like. People were driving from Seattle to try her pastries, which spoke volumes about how good she was.
“Thank you.”
She bent in and kissed my cheek. “You look tired, Fir. Take some time for yourself. I’ll tell folks not to bother you.”
“Thanks.”
If she noticed my voice cracked a little at the end, she said nothing. She walked away, a spring in her step. She was only five foot two, but her energy level was unmatched. God, what I wouldn’t give to be that bouncy and bubbly. Then again, I’d never been that perky, not even in high school, where Brianna had been the captain of the cheerleading squad, and I had chaired the chess club. We hadn’t been friends, though we were now. Sort of. In as far as I even had time for friendships.
Since Brianna opened her bakery, it had become a Forestville staple. She’d managed to make it hip and trendy while still cozy and befitting our small town. The floor was a mosaic of broken tiles in various shades of blue, ranging from navy to the blue of the sky on a summer day and the softest of baby blue, arranged in a random pattern. Caribbean-blue chairs stood around square off-white tables, and open cubby cabinets chock-full of books and board games occupied one wall. The smell of coffee competed with the delicious aromas coming from the ovens, and my mouth watered every time I set foot inside.
Patrons laughed and chatted, their voices blending with the hum of the espresso machine. A young couple I didn’t know shared a croissant at a nearby table while Mrs. Foreman—ninety-four years old and still in excellent health—stood at the counter asking about the day’s specials, which was funny because she always ended up choosing the same thing anyway: a slice of Brianna’s famous cherry pie.
I sipped my latte and breathed out. I’d grown up in this small Washington town, where everyone knew your name and your business. As a family doctor taking over my father’s practice, I’d become a fixture in the community, just like him. I cherished the connections I’d made, but sometimes the weight of loss and the pressure of single parenthood left me craving moments like these—a quiet break in my favorite bakery.
My peaceful reverie was interrupted when the door swung open, admitting a rush of warm air and none other than Tomás Banner, a world-famous model and one half of the renowned Banner twins. My breath caught, as it always did when I saw him, whether in person or in one of his many, many pictures everywhere. It seemed I couldn’t open a damn magazine or go online without him looking at me, convincing me I needed sunglasses or new jeans or—lord, help me—teeny tiny swim trunks that showed off every curve and line of his glorious body. I’d drooled over that ad, much to my shame.
And here he was again. He sauntered to the back of the line, seemingly unaware of my presence and scrutiny as he scanned the chalkboard menu above the counter. His black-and-silver hair caught the light, his lean build and well-defined muscles evident beneath his casual clothing. He waited as Brianna worked her way through the line, then flashed him a broad smile as it was his turn.
“Tomás, you look like trouble today.”
That crooked grin he shot her made me weak in the knees. “Brianna, querida, when will you leave your husband for me? We could run off and settle on a Caribbean island where we’d live happily ever after in the sun.”
She waved her hand dismissively, though her cheeks flushed a pretty pink. No one was immune to this man’s charms. “Not in a million years. Besides, I’m not your type.”
He shrugged and winked. “Your loss.”
As I watched him interact with ease, the old crush from high school stirred within me. I had pined after him, absolutely pined, though from afar, as I’d damn well known I’d never have him. Oh, I’d been aware he wasn’t straight, even though he hadn’t come out until later. Walking into what I had thought would be an empty locker room where he was getting a blow job from the quarterback of our biggest rival had made sure of that. That had sure fueled some furious jerk-off sessions, let me tell you. The man had been fine when he’d been a teenager, and like a superb wine, he’d only become better over the years.
But he’d been way out of my league. Hell, we’d barely occupied the same universe. He’d been popular and sexy, radiating this easygoing charm that left no one unaffected. As if that hadn’t been bad enough, he and his twin brother, Tiago, had been nice and friendly, not the arrogant assholes they could’ve so easily been, considering their popularity and their success as models, even in high school.
We’d never hung out, not since elementary school when all the kids from the same grade had still been friends, but they’d never teased me either, unlike Essex, one of the guys they’d been close with. That guy had been an asshole to me. Never in their presence, though, which told me he must’ve known they’d call him out on his behavior.
But I had dreamed of Tomás Banner. Highly detailed sexual fantasies that always ended up with me shooting my load as I imagined him fucking me. And now, as he chatted with Brianna, a confusing mix of emotions washed over me. Seeing him in person after all these years stirred up feelings of joy and nostalgia but also a sense of longing and lust for the man I’d always admired from afar. My heart raced at the sight of his perfectly tousled black-and-silver hair, his warm brown eyes, which seemed to sparkle as he laughed, and the effortless way he exuded sex appeal.
I missed sex. God knew I ached for Samuel and everything we’d had together, but I also missed sex. Samuel and I had always had a good sex life, right up until he got sick. We’d shared a high sex drive, and it had become my favorite way of blowing off steam. After our sons were born, we’d had to work a little harder to find those moments, but we had. And without him, that was all gone.
