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He nodded and his expression fell.

Good. He should be worried. “Waiting for Dad to strike back like a bad movie villain was scary. And stupid. What the hell is wrong with our family? While ethically almost every choice you make is abhorrent, I love you, Uncle Bowie.” I ran my hand along the arm he had curled around Ridge.

His expression softened. “Come over here, pup. I need you on the bed.”

I studied the way Ridge was nestled against Uncle Bowie, unwilling or unable to move, then considered Uncle Bowie’s injury and did the only thing I could, which had Uncle Bowie smiling.

“My pup,” he murmured as I crawled up from the bottom of the bed. By the time I lay down and carefully adjusted my weight to not squish anything that would hurt on Uncle Bowie, I was able to rest my head on his chest. He leaned down to kiss my forehead, much like he had Ridge.

“I love you, too, pup. I won’t lie, I love fucking your pretty ass, but I’ve never been this happy. I love you and Ridge.” Another warm press of his lips, this time on my cheek, had me smiling. I tilted my chin and kissed Uncle Bowie softly on the lips. I didn’t think we’d ever exchanged such a gentle lip-lock. Ridge watched us, and I leaned forward and did the same to him.

“Do you know what happened to my dad?” I whispered.

Uncle Bowie shook his head and the soft glow from the overhead light glinted on his dark hair. “I doubt you’ll see him again.”

Jealousy sizzled through me. “Did you love him?” I asked.

Understanding passed across his face and he shook his head. “Not like you and Ridge. It was intense and about power. I enjoyed it, but it was making me a worse person than I am now.”

“What?” Ridge mumbled, scowling up at Uncle Bowie.

I nudged him. “It doesn’t matter.”

A white-haired nurse, with soft wrinkles wreathing her face, opened the door and gasped. Her pink scrubs matched the color that spread across her cheeks. “Oh, boys!” She laughed and waved a hand at us. “Up! You can’t jostle him that way! What in the world? How cute.” She shook her head as we got off the bed, doing our best not to make Uncle Bowie wince. “We’re ready to get you going for surgery, Mr. Godfrey. The surgeon elected to come in early, especially for you.”

Ridge snorted and slung his arm across my shoulders. “Good luck, Daddy. We’ll be here when you’re finished.”

Not caring what anyone thought, I rushed forward and brushed a kiss to Uncle Bowie’s cheek as three other men entered the room. They all wore white coats, and one with curly auburn hair flashed Uncle Bowie a smile. “We’re taking you to the OR now. We’ll get you prepped there. Out like a light, then you’ll be fine. We’ll bring him back here,” the doctor said to us, and he had a lot of energy, which was probably good since he would be involved in a surgery. He grinned and it showed off a cute, crooked canine.

“Thank you,” I said, since Ridge didn’t.

Uncle Bowie waved as he was wheeled out the door, and we waved back.

Ridge sighed and flopped on the only chair in the room, then dragged me onto his lap. He was predictable, and it took all of three seconds for his hard-on to start nudging my right asscheek through my pajama pants, but he hugged me close. I didn’t comment on his dick. I turned on his lap until I was sitting with my legs slung over the arm of the chair and hugged him.

“I love you. He’ll be fine.”

Ridge smiled up at me. “I know. Thanks for being here and being so good about this.”

“Thanks for not being mad at me.”

He frowned and kissed my chin. “Why would I be mad?”

I rolled my eyes. “My dad hired someone to shoot your dad. He probably would’ve shot you, too, if you’d been home.”

Ridge shrugged. “Yeah, but that isn’t your fault. That could’ve happened over anything.”

I slapped a hand over my mouth, but a laugh slipped out anyway. Even though Uncle Bowie was off in surgery, I felt better than I had in days because the worst had happened, and we were all alive to tell the tale. Most importantly, we would all be together again soon.

EPILOGUE

RIDGE

Two Months Later

“Have you signed up for your classes yet?” I reached down and fed Saint some of the sliced strawberry from my plate. He was on his knees beside my chair at the dining room table, sporting a shiny new black collar, which had been fitted perfectly around his slim neck. The seams were outlined by diamonds and had cost Daddy a mint, but he’d told Saint he was worth it. I couldn’t help but agree.

Saint chewed the strawberry and swallowed before he answered. The juice made his bright pink lips gleam. “Not yet. I’m not sure what I want to do.”