Knave of Broken Hearts by Tara Lain

holding all the crap he’d kept in the car. His sweet, pretty face looked so sad, Jim wanted to jump out and hug him. Ian took two steps, stopped, fished in his pocket, and brought out the keys he’d clearly forgotten to leave. He opened the car door again and put them on the dashboard, his shoulders bowed like the keys weighed fifty pounds.
    He got partway down the drive toward Jim when the front door of the house opened. Shit. Dr. James Carney wasn’t a big man. Jim and Ian had inherited their height from their mother, who equaled their father in stature at five ten. But he sure as hell could look formidable. Their father called Ian’s name, and the kid stopped but didn’t turn around. His father said something else Jim couldn’t hear, and Ian cringed. Fuck that.
    Jim opened the squeaky door of the truck and stepped out. He walked toward his brother, staring at their dad.
    James Carney frowned. “I should have known he’d go to you.”
    Jim cleared the space and took the box from Ian but still looked at his father. “Where the hell did you expect him to go when you threw out your own son, you self-righteous asshole?”
    “He’s no son of mine.”
    Ian jerked like he’d been hit, and Jim put an arm around his shoulder. “Even animals don’t deny their children.”
    “Alligators eat their young. Sounds like a good idea to me.”
    “It would, you fucking reptile.”
    “You’re two of a kind.”
    “You ought to know. You produced both of us.” He turned and guided Ian back to the truck. The kid managed to stay straight-backed and tearless until they’d driven away from the curb and powered down the winding street with zero regard for the speed limit. Then Ian dropped his face in his hands.
    Jim gave Ian’s knee a squeeze. “Damn that asshole to hell. I’m so sorry this happened to you. But you’re smart and talented. You don’t need him.”
    “He—he was always hard on me, but I thought he loved me. How can he say I’m not his son?”
    “He’s just stuck in his righteousness and can’t back down.”
    Ian nodded and mimicked their father’s slightly nasal voice. “‘Homosexuals are warping our society. They want special treatment when what they should get is shipped to an island where they can fuck each other and leave the rest of us alone.’ He probably wishes I’d go to an island and he wouldn’t have to think about me anymore.”
    “Maybe he’ll wake up one day and be sorry he lost both his kids.”
    “You think so?”
    “No, probably not.” He gave Ian a one-armed hug across the console. “At least we’ve got each other, okay?” Jesus, how did he get to be a grown-up so damned fast?
    “God, I’m sorry, Jim. Now he hates you too.”
    “He always hated me. You didn’t do anything.”
    “No, he didn’t. He talked about how you made it on your own and that was admirable.”
    That gave him a weird shiver. “He’s perverse. Just trying to make you feel bad.”
    “I guess. I don’t get why he’d say we’re two of a kind. All you did was walk out and live your own life. You weren’t caught sucking dick.”
    Jim just kept driving.
     
     
    C OME ON . Come on. Jim paced inside the empty, bare suite. Constance Murch would be there any minute for their lunch, and he really wanted to have something to show her. Rico had said he might have roughs. Jim wanted those roughs.
    He glanced at his watch. The crew had stayed home since he didn’t have an approved plan for them to build to. One precious day wasted. God, he needed to be well underway before Billy got home. If Billy got back from his honeymoon to find the suite not even started, he’d have to think Jim was a fuckup, even if the owner had changed tenants. Come on.
    The door pushed open, and Rico rushed in carrying a handful of papers.
    Jim hurried over to meet him. “Have you got something?”
    “Yes. It’s rough, but at least you have an approach to show the owner.”
    Jim opened the folded printouts. Man, it looked