When Memory Fails Read online

  “Have I ever told you that you have the best ideas?” Hank’s arms snaked around Scott’s shoulders, and he pulled the smaller man to him, not letting him answer as he placed one final, lingering kiss on his lover’s lips.

  Scott pulled away and stood first, holding out his hands, helping Hank lift himself up so that they were both standing.

  “By the way,” Hank sighed as he pulled up his boxers and trousers, holding them both with one hand. “It looks like I owe you twenty bucks.”

  It took Scott a moment to register what Hank was saying, he was suddenly so preoccupied with making sure the meal wasn’t ruined. “Seriously? You know for sure? Brian told you? Kari told you? How do you know?” He walked over and brought his hands up to rest on Hank’s muscular chest, wondering why Hank was just standing there with that goofy grin on his face. “You’re not just teasing me, are you?”

  “No,” Hank said, his hands moving to cup Scott’s beautiful face. “I would never do that to you. Well, not about this anyway. And I don’t know for sure,” Hank confessed as he stole a quick kiss and released his lover. “But Kari invited us over to their place tomorrow night for dinner. Said she’d already spoken to you?” Scott nodded and Hank finished his thought. “Did she explain that there’s something she and Brian want to discuss with us?”

  “I don’t remember that part,” Scott admitted, his teeth worrying his bottom lip as he wrapped the bread in the dishtowel and popped the basket back into the microwave. “Maybe it’s about the business.” He said it to the air, as if he was just considering other possibilities. “Maybe it’s—”

  “And maybe you’ll be getting your wish after all, Uncle Scrappy.” Hank leaned forward, his lips puckered, waiting for his lover to oblige him.

  Scott gave him a quick kiss and then turned him around, patting his ass. “Go. Shower. I’ll have everything ready when you come back down.”

  “Oh, and one other thing,” Hank said as he stopped on the stairs and turned toward the younger man. “I love you.”

  Scott smiled at the look of utter contentment on Hank’s handsome face and dropped the oven mitts on the dining room table. “Screw the dinner,” he said as he moved quickly to join Hank on the stairs. “I’m coming with you. You’ve made it impossible for me to ever shower alone again.” Scott grabbed at the hard, tight ass in front of him as both men ran for the bathroom, clothes landing along the way as if they would need some sort of reminder on how to get back to the kitchen. “I’ve never made love to an uncle before.”

  “Well, hopefully not one of yours, anyway,” Hank said after the last pieces of their clothing were discarded on the floor. “I’ll be a thirty-eight-year-old uncle.” Hank stopped and looked in the mirror, checking out his face from all angles. “I’m old, hairy, and my boyfriend still looks like he’s twenty. Does this officially mean I’m a bear?” He turned back from opening the faucets of the shower, and Scott couldn’t tell if he was pleased or annoyed by the label.

  “Only until you’ve had your coffee in the morning,” Scott said, his tone teasing while his hands pushed gently against Hank’s furry chest until they were both under the stream of water, his hand moving protectively to the little three-inch scar on Hank’s side. “And old? My ass!” Scott swatted playfully at Hank’s rock-hard ass. “What it means is that you are one hell of a sexy uncle.” Scott chuckled to himself when he saw the smile spread across Hank’s lips, and his hands began their slow and purposeful journey from the thick muscles of Hank’s hairy chest to every other bit of flesh he could reach, his mind having already forgotten about dinner.

  Chapter 2

  “WE’RE here,” Scott announced as he toed off his shoes and turned to take the bags from Hank. “Sorry we’re late, but we had a few things to take care of.”

  “Like each other?”

  Scott looked up and saw the glint in his brother’s eyes, his mind working furiously, considering all of the options for repaying the comment in kind. Nothing. Brian had caught him off guard, plain and simple. In place of retaliation, Scott only smiled and waggled his eyebrows. It was Hank that actually spoke when he realized that his Scrappy was empty.

  “Actually, we were trying to come up with some plans for Justis’s visit,” Hank said. “We were thinking we’d give you two newlyweds a bit of a break when he’s here, you know, just in case you have some things you need to take care of.”

  Scott saw the mischievous glance Hank tossed at him before they both turned to study Brian’s blushing face. Kari had turned quickly after Hank’s comment and looked like she was pretending to check the food cooking in the oven.

  “So,” Brian said after clearing his throat. “Did anything interesting come up?” Brian had recovered quite nicely from his momentary blush and was now darting his eyes between Scott and Hank. He raised his eyebrows and shrugged, adding quickly, “With the plans for Justis’s visit, I mean.”

  “Right,” Scott said, nodding his head very slowly. “Well, we did think of maybe taking a trip to the gardens or a whale-watching tour or—”

  “Justis would love that!” Kari said, glancing away from the oven long enough to fix first Scott and then Hank with her wide blue eyes. “He’s loved whales ever since he was a kid.”

  “Speaking of kids, when—” Scott began and immediately felt Hank’s foot kick his own.

  “So, smells like we’re having Swiss steak?” Hank interrupted and shot a look at Scott that was probably meant as a warning.

  Scott and Hank had been discussing the possibility that this dinner would involve some sort of announcement about a potential pregnancy, and Scott had had to promise his lover that he would not push Kari, or Brian, until they were ready to tell them, in their own way and in their own time. In fact, it was the reason they were late. In case they tell us, we’ll have a card ready for the occasion, Scott had explained while they drove to Brian and Kari’s home, trying to get Hank to pull into the parking lot of the Rexall so he could dash in to get some sort of greeting card to take with them to the dinner. But Hank had stood his ground, even showing remarkable resistance to Scott’s pout and promises of doing anything Hank might want later on that evening.

  And Scott had been okay with that decision, sort of, but this waiting until Brian and Kari were ready to share the news would probably end up taking ten years off his life. As he listened to Brian and Hank talk business, he kept looking over at his new sister-in-law and couldn’t help but find meaning in every action, every gesture, like how Kari kept pressing a hand to her lower back every time she stood up, or how one hand always seemed to rest protectively near or on her belly. And then there was that sly Mona Lisa smile that she seemed to be wearing a lot lately, the kind of smile that was only outdone by the happy glow radiating more and more exponentially each time Scott saw her or even spoke to her. Not that he could see her radiant glow when he spoke to her on the phone, but even then, Scott could hear something in her voice, as if she was keeping something very close to her heart.

  Kari came into the little family room opposite the kitchen and deposited a tray of finger foods on the coffee table—and once again pressed a hand to the small of her back when she stood—and asked if there was anything else “the boys” needed. Each of them declined, and Scott leapt to his feet, offering his assistance. Kari waved her hand and smiled, explaining that she enjoyed doing this domestic “stuff,” that she’d not been able to do it for a very long time. Scott caught the reflexive move of her hand, a little closer to her belly, and sat back, smiling to himself.

  He tuned in and out of the conversation between Brian and Hank and found his eyes fixed on the formal wedding portrait that stood on one of the middle shelves of the massive entertainment unit. Brian had had only a small sofa table, on which his huge television wobbled precariously, but after marrying Kari, he’d found himself with a house full of very tasteful and sturdy furniture.

  The portrait showed Kari and Brian, the height difference somewhat amusing, standing in front of the massive
oak tree in the backyard, Brian’s hand curled protectively around Kari’s slim waist and Kari’s petite hand placed lovingly over Brian’s massive chest. Scott felt the odd pull at the corners of his mouth when the thought struck him that it seemed to be the destiny of all Alan men—himself excluded, of course—to marry very petite women. Or at least, all of the Alan men that Scott knew about had married much smaller women. Scott and Brian’s father had been taller than six feet five inches, although that was the official given height on his driver’s license, and their mother barely five feet two inches. And when times had been happier at the Alan home, Scott had been enthralled by the stories his father would tell about his own parents. His grandfather had been almost seven feet tall, and his mother had been a mere five feet tall. Scott always found himself laughing when his own father compared them to a semicolon. And as he continued to look at the portrait of his brother and sister-in-law, the warm feeling of his brother finding love again was only slightly dimmed by the specter of their father’s unhappy marriage.

  “Hey,” Brian said, disturbing Scott’s thoughts. “Scooter?”

  Scott turned to look at his brother, raising his eyebrows and offering a smile. “What’d I miss?”

  “I was just thanking you and Hank for what you’re doing to help with the company.”

  “You’re welcome,” Scott responded, his smile growing a little bit more pronounced. “I knew you wouldn’t like the idea, but I knew you’d give in eventually. I’ve always been more stubborn than you.”

  “I like to think it was my convincing argument about holding the Tasmanian Devil at bay,” Hank announced, and he took another swig from his beer. “Of course, he relented right away, knowing that you could return to that whirling ball of fury from your childhood at any moment.”

  “I’ll never forgive you for telling him that,” Scott said to his brother.

  “I didn’t tell him, actually. You did.”

  “Like I had a choice,” Scott said after he rolled his eyes. “You ratted me out! You two were in cahoots, conspiring against me.” Neither Hank nor Brian responded, content to exchange a quick look and offer each other knowing smirks. The nickname he’d earned in elementary school had never really bothered him; he’d earned it because he wasn’t willing to put up with any kind of mistreatment on the playground—of him or anyone else.

  Scott returned his gaze to the wedding portrait, the memory of the late summer ceremony still so fresh after more than a year. He’d offered to help pay for a big shindig, complete with a church, expensive champagne, and a live band, but neither Brian nor Kari had wanted anything more than they’d eventually gotten: a small, simple ceremony witnessed by family and friends.

  Justis had taken a few days off from his studies to attend, Brian had invited all of the men from work, and despite Roddy and Hughy refusing, they’d all attended with their wives or girlfriends. Scott had been thrilled about Brian asking him to be best man, and had been even more thrilled when he’d asked Hank to be the other groomsman. As for Kari, besides her maid of honor, who was Sheila, the nurse from the hospital, and Ginnette, a close friend of the bride, who now lived in Abbotsford, the bride’s contingent had only been about fifteen people. And Scott still got a lump in his throat whenever he thought of Kari being led down the path by Justis, the only child from her first marriage. He was sure it would have been even more impressive inside a huge church, but neither the groom nor the bride seemed very interested in placating Scott. Both Kari and Brian had relented and allowed Scott to pay for the minimal decorations and the sensible but stunning cake, and in the end, Scott had had to admit that his brother and sister-in-law had been right. The small, intimate ceremony had been perfect, and the wedding portrait was the proof. Both bride and groom looked incredibly happy with their special day.

  And now, sitting with them over a year after they promised to cherish, protect, and love each other, Scott wondered if they’d ever get around to telling him what he wanted to hear. He thought he’d shown incredible restraint, since his curiosity had been piqued by the suspicious and erratic behavior of both Kari and Brian. It wasn’t so much that they were acting differently, but everything seemed to spark the need for a discussion, which usually necessitated the consulting of a calendar or a day planner or some sort of electronic device that housed “important dates,” as Brian called them.

  Scott had first mentioned his suspicions to Hank, who, of course, had made Scott promise that he would not hound his brother for any information. Hank had been running interference for a couple of weeks now, interrupting Scott if he sensed a question about children or babies or “future plans.” They’ll tell us when they’re ready, Scrappy. Scott had lost track of how many times he’d heard that sentence, the admonishment usually followed by Hank having to do something to rid Scott of his playful pout. If Hank had figured out Scott was doing it in order to get Hank naked and in bed, the big logger had never let on.

  Still lost in his daydream, Scott only heard a thud and then noticed both Brian and Hank running for the kitchen. Scott stood and looked over and saw Kari turning on the faucet, sticking her right hand underneath what he assumed was the streaming cold water. “What happened?”

  “Oh, it’s nothing,” Kari said, flipping her long blonde hair away from her face, revealing the slight blush that had crept into her cheeks. “I thought I had a better grip on the casserole dish.”

  “Okay, that’s it,” Brian said authoritatively as he moved behind his wife and started herding her toward the family room. “You’ve done enough for tonight. You go and sit and relax, and I’ll get the rest of the dinner ready.”

  “I’m fine, really,” Kari protested, but she probably knew her husband well enough to realize when he wasn’t about to argue or to discuss anything. “The dish didn’t break, so the scalloped potatoes should be fine, and the chicken—”

  “I’ll manage,” Brian said as he made a shooing motion with his hands. “Go and sit… please.” Scott watched as Kari did as she was instructed and let Hank lead her to a chair in the family room, one of his large hands placed protectively under her elbow. “Scott?”

  Scott looked over at his big brother.

  “Can you come and help me?”

  “Sure,” Scott said, feeling a little out of synch with the rest of the adults in the room. Whether it was because he was still trying to read the signs or because he’d been too lost in his own thoughts to realize he should have been helping Kari despite her protests, Scott wasn’t quite certain. “Should I set the table?”

  “Actually, I’ll do that, and you can check that dinner is almost ready.”

  “I thought you said you could manage,” Kari said, teasing Brian as she settled into one of the armchairs.

  “I am,” Brian stated with certainty, looking over and smiling for Kari’s benefit. “I’m managing the way I always do. It’s called delegating.”

  Scott thumped his brother on the arm and moved around the peninsula to check on dinner. “I don’t mind, really. I probably should have been helping you all along,” he said to Kari as she leaned back and put her feet up. “I mean, what with your condition and all.”

  Three pairs of eyes landed on Scott with such speed that he wondered if he’d misspoken and was about to get a tongue-lashing—and not the kind he liked—from Hank.

  “And I thought we’d done such a good job of hiding it,” Kari said to her husband with a resigned shrug.

  “So it’s true!” Scott forgot all about his new dinner responsibilities and moved to stand beside his brother, who was standing and looking at his wife, knives and forks still in his hands. “I’m finally going to be an uncle?” Scott stood there wondering, his eyes darting back and forth between Brian and Kari, why neither of them was saying anything.

  Finally, Brian nodded, the grin growing exponentially as he looked over at his wife. “A father at forty-two years old,” Brian added, with a shrug of his own.

  “It’s about time!” Scott screamed, his voice seem
ing far too high and far too loud, even to his own ears. “Oh my God! Congratulations!” Scott threw himself at his brother, Brian moving his arms quickly out to the sides so he wouldn’t skewer his only sibling.

  “That’s fantastic news!” Hank had moved himself over to kneel beside Kari’s chair, enveloping her into a tentative hug. “How far along are you?”

  “Sixteen weeks,” Kari announced as Scott stopped kissing Brian’s still-smiling face long enough to make his way over to his pregnant sister-in-law and perch on the arm of the chair. “I just wanted to be sure that there wouldn’t be any complications. I’d lost two babies before, so….”

  “There’s still a possibility, so….”

  Scott looked back at Brian. Had he been keeping all of this uncertainty inside and worrying about his business as well? Why hadn’t he confided in his only brother sooner? Scott could have made sure that Kari had the very best care, the very best doctors. “Are the doctors optimistic?”

  “Oh, yes,” Kari said, trying to sound nonchalant and dismissive about the concern. “She’s been very good to both of us, explaining what we can expect and what the risks are.”

  “But you’re only thirty-eight,” Hank said, moving slowly over to Brian’s side. “There are lots of women who have children at thirty-eight.”

  “Of course,” Kari said, patting Scott’s knee. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to spoil the moment.”

  “Nonsense,” Hank said, his face bright, his smile appearing just as quickly as the worry lines disappeared from his forehead. “Congratulations, boss!” Hank offered his hand to Brian, who shook it vigorously, his smile slowly returning. “We’ll do everything we can to help.”

  “I know you will,” Brian said, clapping Hank on the back. “There’s not much to be done but wait.”

  “He’s not very good at that,” Scott said in a stage whisper to Kari. “Likes to torture himself with what-ifs.”

  “That’s called planning,” Brian said as he returned to his duties of setting the table. “Scott?” When Scott looked over, Brian nodded his head toward the kitchen. “Food?”