Yours to Keep by Serena Bell

surprised at how good that felt, even though a fifteen-year-old boy’s opinion of his romantic life shouldn’t matter any more than a thirty-six-year-old veteran bachelor’s. “Did you finish your homework?” He wanted to end the conversation beforeJames got going again.
    Theo’s face shuttered abruptly. “No.”
    When he’d gone back upstairs, James said, “I think he’s a bigger boy than you think he is, Eth.”
    “You think a lot of stuff. Keep your thoughts off my life.”
    James laughed. “As soon as you get a life, I sure will.”
    Ethan sighed. At the bottom of all the teasing there was a granule of pure truth. For so long, he hadn’t had a life to speak of. For so long, it hadn’t mattered, but things had changed, and now it did.
    There was no use denying it, not to James, who, despite all the bullshit, saw through him better than anyone. Like right now. James was staring at him, waiting for him to respond to the jab. One eyebrow lowered.
    Ethan said the most honest thing he could think of.
    “I’m trying.”

Chapter 9
    The panic in Nicole Freyer’s voice surged over the phone line.
    “Take a deep breath,” Ethan told her and did the same himself. Despite years of practice at this, he still sometimes found the mothers’ fear contagious. And he knew that his own calm could work its way through the phone back to Nicole.
    “They don’t have anything till May,” she wailed.
    “And nothing’s changed with Mary?” He fiddled with the jar of pens on his desk.
    “If anything, she’s worse.”
    “I’ll call them,” he said. “I’ll get you an appointment, I promise.”
    “Promise?”
    “Promise.”
    He put the phone down and called the developmental specialist’s office. He identified himself and explained the situation. The woman at the other end of the phone asked whether it was an emergency. He hesitated.
    “Yes,” he said, finally.
    He got Mary an appointment for the following Thursday then called Nicole back to let her know.
    “Thank you,” she whispered.
    “We’re going to get to the bottom of this,” he said.
    “I knew you’d fix it. You’re the best. You’re the Superman of pediatricians.”
    Something, some subtle switch, some breathy new note in her voice alerted him. He shied back from the receiver as if it were the woman herself.
    Oh, bloody hell. It was unmistakable, the sexual undertone.
    But the fact that Nicole was flirting didn’t mean Mary wasn’t sick. The trouble was you couldn’t tell. Maternal neediness could turn bad behavior into a yearlong, expensive, test-ridden carnival of doctor’s visits, but mothers were also by far the most reliable early indicator of serious trouble.
    “Let’s see what Dr. Hastings has to say. We’ll go from there. In the meantime, try todo something nice for yourself. A spa day or something. Get a little time away from Mary.” He hesitated. Sexual desperation often reared its head when things were amiss on the domestic front. He could try to get a line on that, see if he could diagnose the mommy’s condition, if not the child’s. “Get a babysitter. Go out to a nice restaurant with your husband.”
    A short, harsh laugh affirmed his suspicions.
    “You’d be surprised how much it helps. Try it.”
    “He—”
    The last thing he wanted was to give her the impression he could be her confidant. “Do something self-indulgent. Take care of yourself.”
    At the other end of the phone, she took a breath.
    “You’re going to be fine,” he said.
    “Okay.” Her voice quavered, the edge of that familiar desperation made plain. “Thank you. Goodbye.”
    He placed the phone back in the receiver as gently as he could. His hands were shaking, a narrow escape. In a year, he knew, she’d be grateful that he’d spared her the humiliation of the confession she’d been about to make.
    Now he had to figure out whether Mary’s ailment was manufactured or real.
    “¿Quién es Ethan?”
    Her brother was demanding to know who Ethan