Chapter 3 Iwas the first to make it home at the end of classes since all my classes ended at four p.m. and not a minute later. I'd memorized Roberto and Matthew's schedules, and since it was a Monday night, I knew I had the apartment to myself for about thirty minutes before they'd arrive. Groaning, I made my way from the car through the glass door and across the lobby. Tommy, our regular doorman and guard, nodded at me from his post at the counter. "Evening, Mr. Harding." The guy had to be pushing sixty, but he insisted on calling all of us mister. I returned the nod. "Evening, Tommy. How's it been?" "Quiet today. That woman on the third floor moved out. Sounded more like she got thrown out. Mr. Richardson found out she'd been keeping three dogs in her apartment." I whistled, swiped my card over the scanner on the elevator, and pushed the button that would carry me all the way up to the penthouse apartment I shared with my two best friends. "Going to put that in your book?" Tommy had been working on a novel for as long as I could remember. I'd asked once what it was about, and he'd spent ten minutes talking about how he hoped to combine supernatural detectives with dragons. He grinned wide and snorted. "Not a chance. Hellhounds, maybe. That could be fun." Still grinning, he tossed a hand up in a wave. "Have a good night, Mr. Harding." "You too, Tommy." The doors closed and I let myself slump against the steel wall. Cold air pumped in through one of the vents, fanning my silvering hair across my forehead. I swept it back, impatient to reach the top floor and relax. Whatever Matthew wanted to talk about would probably give me a headache or indigestion. Probably both. The man had more wild ideas than an author had stories. His creativity astounded me. My work with numbers made sense. You worked the problem according to the rules and you came up with the right answer. Not Matthew. I'd called him a dreamer once, and he'd taken it as the best compliment I could give. A ding sounded and the doors opened, depositing me on the fringe of our living room. The brown leather sofa beckoned me closer, the soft blanket thrown across one arm tempting me to settle in and watch TV until the others arrived. I shoved off the idea and crossed to the gym, yanking off my white button-up shirt and tie and tossing them onto the bench seat beside the door. My slacks were not the best workout attire, but I needed a release from the tension that had started early this morning when I woke from a nightmare. I was in the middle of my third set when Roberto appeared in the open doorway. He took one look at me and settled on the thrusting machine to my left. Matthew came in next and took up a spot on the free weights. The two of them worked out with me in silence until Matthew tapped a button on the wall and rock music rattled the walls. I bared my teeth in a grateful smile. They knew me better than anyone else. Anyone looking in would find the three of us working out while wearing our suits odd. Good thing no one could look in and none of us gave a rat's ass. This was our safe place, our sanctuary. Here, we could let down our guard and be who we wanted. "Had another student hit on me today." Roberto's black hair fell around his head in damp curls as he thrust the bar up with his hips. His olive skin flushed with the exertion. "I almost told her to fuck right off. But I was afraid she'd try to take me up on the offer." I snorted out a laugh. "We're probably the only men on the planet complaining because hot women hit on us all the time." "Most of them can't be called women." Matthew grunted with the effort of squatting the two hundred pounds on the bar stretched across his back. He stood, his legs shaking and straining. "They're not mature enough to be women yet." True. Not our problem. "Another rough night?" Roberto asked when he finished his set and rolled to a sitting position. I nodded with a grunt. "Can't get it out of my head. It's been five years." My throat locked, and I choked on the excuse. Anyone would tell me that grief wasn't linear. "Dude, you lost your wife and baby girl in childbirth. You don't just get over that." Roberto reached over and smacked my knee. "And your form is shit. You're going to blow your shoulder if you keep lifting like that." I shifted my position when he smacked my leg again. "Fuck off and do your own work." I didn't mean a word of it, and he knew that. The false aggression let me work out my emotions with the people I trusted. They'd been with me through everything, and I'd been there for them. We were quite the collection of bachelors and widowers. Matthew had been engaged, but his engagement fell through. Roberto was too busy falling in and out of love to bother with marriage. But me? I'd had it all. Had it and lost it. Matthew finished with the free weights, then walked over and pushed me off the bench when I set the bar in the rack. "Kitchen. I need something to drink, and we need to talk." "We can talk here." I rubbed the ache in my palms, ignoring my shoulder when it twinged. Roberto was right. I was going to blow it out if I didn't pay attention. "Kitchen." Matthew stalked out, turning left at the door. Seconds later, the refrigerator door closed with a gentle slap. "Got your favorite protein drink. Come on. It's important." Those two words were all it took to drive me to my feet and into the kitchen. "How important?" "Depends." "Like the diapers you're going to need next year?" Roberto danced out of the way when Matthew took a swipe at his arm. "Getting slow, old man. Next thing you know, we'll be putting you in the nursing home." "We're the same age, asshole." Matthew chucked a bottle at Roberto's head. He snapped it out of the air and cracked the seal. "So? I'm in better shape. I eat healthier, and I'm more handsome." "Okay, enough." Matthew held up one hand. His other gripped a bottle of water. "I have a student who's struggling in your classes. Harmony Vogel." I nearly choked on the protein shake. "Why is this important to us? Kids fail all the time." "I need this one to pass. She's the best singer I've heard in ten years. If she doesn't bring her grades up, she goes on probation. Then she loses her scholarship." He ran a hand through his hair, causing it to stand on end. "I know her." Roberto's eyes crunched together. "She seems shy. You sure we're talking about the same girl? I can't imagine her as a theater major." "I'm sure." Matthew paced to the island in the center of the kitchen. White cabinets stood out starkly behind him, his body bookended by the stove to his right and refrigerator to his left. I pulled out one of the stools and sat. "What are you asking? I'm not raising her grade just because you like her." It sounded odd saying it that way, but how else did I explain the way Matthew's eyes took on a kind of softness that I'd only seen one other time? Matthew shook his head and downed the water. "I'm not asking you to change her grade. I'm not an idiot." "That's up for debate." Roberto threw the jab in with the finesse of years of friendship. He grinned, laughing wildly when Matthew rolled his eyes. "You're regressing. Look at that, already rolling your eyes like you're eighteen again." "God, you're annoying." Matthew laughed when Roberto threw a hand over his heart and staggered back like he'd been shot. He turned toward me and raised his eyebrows in a pleading look. "Tutor her." "Why?" I drilled Matthew with a glare. "Because she's phenomenal. She deserves a chance to sing for the world. It's not her fault she can't afford college without a scholarship. She shouldn't be punished for not being able to hire tutors." "So not only do you expect me to do this, you want me to tutor her for free." The longer Matthew talked, the more I disliked the idea. "Come on." Matthew splayed his hands on the counter. "You're an amazing tutor. You're the only reason Roberto and I made it through our college math classes." True. It wasn't that I was opposed to tutoring Harmony. Matthew was right. She shouldn't be punished for lacking the funds for her education. What bothered me was the immediate reaction in my body when I thought about her. It wasn't sexual. No one had triggered that part of me since I lost Abigail. No. It was something else. A protective instinct that appeared in the most absurd situations. She didn't need my protection. What good would it do, anyway? I'd done my best to protect my wife. She died anyway. "Stephen." Matthew snapped his fingers in front of my face. I reared back with a glare. "You know I hate that." "Yeah, and I've said your name twice. You got lost, man. Didn't know how else to pull you back." He wore an apologetic half smile. "What do you say?" "I'm in." Roberto shrugged when I shifted to stare at him. "What? Doesn't matter to me one way or the other, so why not help her?" One point for Roberto. "Do you need an incentive?" Matthew straightened. "I'll trade you for it. I'll do all the cooking and cleaning for you." "Hey." Roberto protested, shoving Matthew's shoulder. "What about me?" "What about you?" "None of us cook or clean for each other." I looked pointedly at the immaculate kitchen and living room. "I'm not falling in that trap. We all clean up after ourselves like adults." "Fine." Matthew huffed. His fingers drummed on the counter. "Can I appeal to your ego some more? You really are a great tutor. I'm sure it won't take much to help her. She's bright and talented." "Stop trying to sell it." I held up a hand. The lingering effects of the nightmare I'd suffered last night caused a headache to pulse. I rubbed at my temples. What did it matter to me whether she passed or not? I didn't like it when students failed my class. It made me feel like a failure. But how did I offer free tutoring sessions to Harmony without offering them to every struggling student? Wasn't that some kind of ethical dilemma? I could offer group tutoring sessions with anyone who wanted to join. Most of my students were passing this semester. Some might accept the chance to raise their grades. "This really means a lot to you?" I asked Matthew. He rounded the counter and grabbed my shoulders. "More than you know. If you heard her sing, you'd understand. She cannot be thrown out of college and lose her place in the program." I sighed, knowing deep in my heart that it was a mistake, I answered with a nod. "Fine. I'll tutor her." A single mother returns to the city she left seven years ago after breaking up with her ex to seek treatment for her son’s leukemia. Upon learning of her return, the ex immediately searches for the lo...