Page 27 of No Rhyme or Riesling

John peeked out the window. Everett continued up the road, merely glancing in John's direction but never slowing his pace. John waited until the man disappeared from sight, then stepped back from the window and let out a heavy exhale.

He started to turn away when he suddenly pictured Everett dead somehow, making it too late for John to apologize to the man. A gut-wrenching twist of guilt hit him straight in the stomach, almost making him heave. John flew out the door, barely pausing to listen for Everett's footsteps before he took off after the man. He knew it was irrational, but he couldn't make himself stop. The panic crawled under his skin, making him certain that what happened with Frank Barnes would happen all over again now.

Everett must have heard him coming. He glanced over his shoulder before slowing to a fast walk, pacing back and forth across the dirt road while John caught up to him.

“Christ, you're fast,” John blurted out when he reached him. He braced his hands on his knees and bent over, trying to catch his breath.

Everett chuckled, not looking the least bit winded. “Finally getting it back.” When John gave him a puzzled look, Everett shrugged one shoulder. “I used to run almost every day for years. But after my marriage fell apart and my best friend stabbed me in the back, it always seemed like a drink sounded better at the end of the day than putting on my running shoes. Long story,” he added with a laugh before a beaming smile took over his face. “Morgan's been encouraging me to get back in the habit because he knows I enjoy it. Besides…” He swept an arm out. “Can't beat this for a track. It's so much nicer than the smoggy city streets. And since it's literally my backyard, I don't really have any excuse.”

John breathed a laugh as the panic slowly dissipated. Everett and Morgan lived right there on the vineyard property, in an old barn that Everett had converted into a house last year. The barn had contained nothing but broken equipment and old junk before Everett took over the vineyard. John definitely didn't miss that unsightly mess one bit. It had always made him itchy just to drive by it, let alone set foot inside.

But his laugh quickly died when he remembered why he'd rushed after Everett in the first place. “I'm sorry,” he blurted out.

Everett frowned in confusion and tilted his head as he asked, “For what?”

“For interrupting your run, for one,” John said, “but mostly for what happened yesterday. The way Adam behaved…”

Everett shrugged. “So he had a little too much to drink. Happens to the best of us.”

John winced. “I should have seen it coming. Or done something. Had better control–”

“John, you can't control everything.” Everett laughed. “Trust me, I've tried.” He shook his head. “Some things, you just have to let go. I know that's not easy for men like us, but it's true. And, sometimes, we need to let our boys make their own mistakes.” He breathed another laugh. “You know, besides working at the coffee shop with Adam, Morgan has a photography business on the side. And he's pretty much done all of it on his own. Sometimes, he'll come to me for advice, but mostly it's all him. And, yeah, there are times when I want to jump in and tell him he can do something a different way or a better way, but that's not my job. My job is to be there for him when he needs my encouragement or support, and to back off when he wants to figure it out on his own.” He shrugged. “He makes mistakes and he learns from them, and the pride he gains from that experience is more than worth not barging my way in and taking control.”

John crossed his arms over his chest and frowned. That advice was all well and good for someone like Morgan, but Adam was different. His boy thrived on being told what to do. John could see it every time. Adam would go from having an almost haunted look in his eyes to bearing an expression so full of bone-deep relief, it nearly took John's breath away.

He was half-tempted tomakeAdam clear out that third bedroom. Then make him put the urn somewhere else. Anywhere else.

Then make Adam call himDaddy.

He could take all those decisions right out of Adam's hands. Force the issue.

Except a part of him also knew how easily that could backfire. When it came to obeying, anything to do with Adam's dad was a hard limit.

“John?” Everett asked.

John shook his head. “Sorry.” He cleared his throat. “I should let you get back to your run.” He took a step back. “And I'm sorry again. For yesterday,” he added, needing to repeat the words even though Everett didn't seem upset by what happened.

“Hey, John?” Everett called after him.

John turned back. “Yeah?”

“We're family now,” Everett said, then lifted a hand and described a circle in the air. “You, me, Beau, Mav, Laurie, Griff, Theo. We daddies and our boys. If you guys need help, you're not alone. I hope you know that.”

John shoved his hands into his pockets and managed a nod, feeling uncomfortably trapped between two parts of his world. Work and personal life weren't supposed to overlap. Then again, he supposed that would be unavoidable now that he was dating his boss's fiancé's best friend.

Still, he couldn't bring himself to say anything in response, merely nodding again and turning away to trudge back to his office.

Because he wasn't one of them. He never could be. Unlike the others, John wasn'tDaddy.

And that was half the problem.

Chapter 10

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ADAM

ADAM SHUFFLED into the kitchen, holding his head with both hands.Ugh. Fuck. He wasn't hungover, but he had a monster headache. Adam tried rolling his shoulders. The muscles there felt like rocks after having been so tense through all his crying fits yesterday.

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