---

When Nate thought back to that night six years ago when he'd ceased to be a brother and a son, he always pictured someone else, a man who existed in another lifetime. The new life he'd worked so hard to carve for himself offered a certain amount of insulation against the pain of his abandonment. Walking into that office and seeing Seth again would rip away all the layers of protection he'd built up. Nate wasn't sure if he was ready to have his shell torn open again.

Amy went back inside the office, but Nate just stood there, his mind refusing to tell his feet to move. He heard Brandon dial a number and tell the person on the other end to handle things at the Sheriff's department for the rest of the afternoon. Then he felt a pair of iron-strong arms wrap around him and pull him close.

"Are you okay, sweetheart?"

"I don't know. After all this time, what could he possibly have to say to me? Why now?"

Brandon just shook his head and held him tighter. Nate wasn't sure how long they stood there like that, but he was thankful he and Amy had a private parking spot where patients and passersby couldn't see them. Within minutes, the warmth from Brandon's body began to sink into his own, causing his muscles to relax and his head to clear. He was reluctant to break their embrace, but he knew he would have to face Seth sooner or later. He might as well get it over with. He pulled away and took Brandon's hand.

"I think I'm ready now."

"Are you sure?"

"No, but I don't have a whole lot of choice. Will you go in there with me?"

Brandon nodded. "If you want me to be there, then I'm there."

"A few minutes ago, when you said I could consider myself off the market, did you mean that you consider us a couple now?"

"That's how I see us."

Nate pulled him towards the office. "Me, too." He stopped before he got to the back door, the one only employees used. "Before we go in, there's something I need to tell you."

Brandon led him over to the picnic table that sat just outside the doorway. He and Nate sat across from each other, Nate holding his hand in a death grip. "You can tell me anything. I think you know that by now."

"I'm learning." Nate took a deep breath. "Remember how I told you my dad got a restraining order forbidding me from contacting either my parents or my brother?" He Brandon said yes, Nate went on. "Well, since Seth was a minor when my dad took out the order, it expired when he turned eighteen. After that, it was up to him to take out another one."

Brandon gave his hand a squeeze. "You went to see him, didn't you?"

"On his eighteenth birthday. I found out where he was from some mutual friends. See, I convinced myself that the only reason he wouldn't see me was because my dad wouldn't let him. Don't worry, though; he set me straight. Well, maybe straight isn't the right word. Let's just say, he let me know in no uncertain terms just exactly what he thought of me."

The sympathy he saw on Brandon's face was almost his undoing. "What happened, baby?"

"He started screaming at me, telling me to get away from him. He said his brother was dead, that he died the day I decided to become a fag. He said he only hoped that someone would come along and put me out of my misery before I decided to molest a child or something." When he saw the anger that reddened Bran's face, he quickly added, "He was only repeating what me father said the night he found out. My dad said it was a good thing I would never have children because a pervert like me would end up raping them myself or allowing another pervert to do it. Anyway, the day after I went to see Seth, he filed his own restraining order against me. That was four years ago. I haven't heard from him since."

Bran crossed over to Nate's side of the table and pulled him close. "You don't have to see him, Nate. I'll go in there right now and tell him he has to leave."

"No. I can handle it, as long as you'll stay with me."

Brandon kissed him tenderly on the lips. "I'm not going anywhere. Face it, babe. You're stuck with me."

* * *

Part of Brandon's training, first as a profiler, and then later as sheriff, was never to let his emotions get in the way when dealing with a case. Nate may have started out as a case, but he'd been more than that from almost the minute Brandon laid eyes on him. The thought of anyone hurting Nathan made Bran want to hide him away from the rest of the world and stand guard at the door. It was hard to hate a man he'd never met, but the things Seth Morris had done to Nate made it difficult for Bran not to despise him.

When they walked into the office, Seth was seated in one of the chairs in front of Nate's desk. Nate teased him about how much he and Keith favored, but the resemblance between the Morris brothers was startling: same dark- blonde hair, same chocolate eyes. Nate was a couple of inches taller and a touch more muscular, but there was no mistaking the fact that they were brothers. What bothered Bran the most was how someone as sweet and gentle as Nate could be saddled with that bunch of losers he called family.

Seth stood up when he saw them. He started towards Nate, but Bran positioned himself between them. Seth stopped short and looked at his brother.

"Nate. It's been a while, huh?"

"Four years. You aren't supposed to be here, Seth. You're violating your own restraining order."

"No, I dropped that about six months ago." He looked up at Bran's hardened jaw. "Uh, Nathan, do you think we could talk? Alone?"

Nate put his hand inside Bran's larger one. Brandon's fingers closed around his immediately. "Seth, this is Brandon Nash. Sheriff Brandon Nash. He and I are seeing each other. That means that what concerns me, concerns him. He stays."

Seth didn't seem to like having an audience, but at least he was smart enough not to say anything. Nate said, "There's a small sitting room upstairs. If we're gonna talk, we'll have more privacy up there." He turned to Brandon. "Will you take Seth on upstairs while I ask Amy to cover my patients?"

"Sure, babe." He started towards the stairs, leaving Seth to follow.

The upstairs sitting room was little more than a landing with a couch and a couple of armchairs, but at least it was private. Brandon sat down on the overstuffed sofa. Seth settled himself into a chair, and the two waited for Nate in awkward silence.

Finally, Seth said, "So, you and my brother, huh?"

Brandon crossed his legs, right ankle over left knee. "Yeah, me and your brother. You got a problem with that?"

Seth leaned forward like he was sizing Brandon up. "You don't exactly seem like Nate's type."

"Meaning I'm nothing like that Landon guy he was engaged to for five minutes?"

The sarcasm in Seth's voice might have bothered Brandon if he gave a rat's ass what the guy thought. As it was, he was having a hell of a time not picking the little bastard up and throwing him head first from one of the second story windows. "You're definitely nothing like Rick."

"You don't say."

"Rick was cultured. He liked the finer things in life, things like the opera and the symphony. You look like you'd be more at home at a tractor pull than Carnegie Hall."

Brandon leaned back against the cushions. "So what you're really saying is, because I prefer Budweiser to Dom Perignon, I'm not good enough for Nate."

Seth fidgeted in his chair. "That's not what I said. I just don't want to see my brother get hurt."

Brandon leaned forwards again, his eyes pinning Seth in place. "Now see, that's where I get a bit confused. Must be brain damage from the exhaust fumes at all those monster truck rallies. What I'm wondering is, what's your definition of hurt? Is hurt having the man you love walk out on you because mommy and daddy threaten to cut of the 'ole checkbook the way Landon left Nate? Or maybe your definition of hurt is having your eighteen year old brother throw you out of his life-again-after filing a restraining order against you and calling you a child molesting pervert?"

Seth's face turned a deep crimson but his eyes were defiant. "I was just a kid. I made a mistake."

"Took you four years to realize that, did it? Well, while you were finding yourself, making your way, or whatever you 'cultured' boys call it, your brother was suffering-alone. And if you think I'm going to sit here and watch you destroy what little peace he's been able to find for himself, you're sadly mistaken. I'll do whatever it takes to keep Nate from being hurt again, by you or anyone else."

"Are you threatening me, Sheriff?"

"No, sir. You see, that would be uncivilized. I'm simply telling you that if you do anything to cause Nathan harm, directly or indirectly, as the case may be, you won't like the consequences. Where I come from, that's called promising, not threatening."

Seth probably would have responded had Nathan not chosen that moment to come into the room. He took the seat next to Brandon on the couch, close enough that Bran could feel his trembling. He put his arm around Nate's shoulders and received a grateful smile for the effort.

Brandon was proud of the strength in Nate's voice when he said, "Seth, what are you doing here?"

Seth moved forward to perch on the edge of his chair. From his viewpoint, Brandon could see that Seth was shaking almost as bad as Nate. If the guy wasn't such a self-righteous prick, Bran might have felt sorry for him.

"If I told you I was sorry for what happened four years ago, would it make a difference?"

"I don't know, Seth. Sorry if that's not what you want to here, but that's just how it is."

"Will you give me a chance to explain why I did what I did?"

Brandon's heart sank when he saw Nate nod to his brother's request. He settled back against the cushions, pulling Nathan with him and holding him tight to his side. If Seth was uncomfortable with their closeness, he didn't show it.

"Nate, before we go any further, I need to tell you something: I'm gay. I've been involved with another man for several months now."

"Look, Seth, I don't know what kind of game you're playing, but-"

Seth pulled a picture out of his wallet and handed it to Nate. The photo showed Seth with a rugged looking man about Brandon's age, or older.

"His name is Philip Patterson. He's older than I am, but Mother said, as long as he treats me well, she's all for it."

The disbelief in Nate's voice was cutting. "You're telling me Mother knows about this, and she's O.K. with it?"

"She and Dad both do. That's one of the reasons I'm here, Nate. We want you back, man. All of us."

"I'm twenty-eight-years old, Seth. Even if I believed what you're saying-and I'm not sure I do-don't you think that's a little long in the tooth to move back home with the folks."

"That's not what I'm saying. Mom and Dad want to be a part of your life again." He lowered his head. "I want my brother back."

"Why now?"

"Some crazy guy bashes you in the head, trashes your house, and you can ask me that?"

Brandon switched from concerned boyfriend to sheriff in a one-second rotation. "You mind telling me just how in the hell you know about that?"

Seth again went into his wallet, this time pulling out a faxed copy of the clipping from The Reed Daily Courier about Nathan's attack. "Mr. Davis at the paper has a son who manages one of the Mor-co franchises in Chicago. He recognized the name and faxed the entire article to Dad. He and Mom are scared to death, Nate."

Nathan displayed the first show of anger Bran had seen since Seth arrived. "So what, they decided to send the good son up here on a reconnaissance mission to the deviant? They were so concerned they sent someone else to do their dirty work?" Nate stood up. "Well, you've done what you came for. I'm not sure who that guy in the picture with you is, but I believe he's your lover like I believe Jimmy Hoffa is downstairs waiting in my reception area. You go back home and assure Mom and Dad that I'm not going to do anything to further disgrace the Morris name. And hey, if this guy who's stalking me does happen to kill me, I'll make sure they list 'none' under the relatives column of my obituary. That way neither you nor our illustrious parents will have to answer any embarrassing questions about the family fag."

Seth didn't make a move to stand. "I was raped, Nate."

"I beg your pardon?"

"When I was fifteen. I was raped by a guy I met at a party. It happened a few months before you told me you were gay."

Nate collapsed back onto the sofa and into Brandon's arms. His voice was thin and tight in the now silent room.

"What happened?"

Seth rubbed his hand over his face the same way Nathan did when he was nervous. "When I was thirteen, I started having feelings for other guys. Girls did nothing for me, but a picture of Brad Pitt gave me a boner every time. I waited to see if it would go away, but it didn't. A couple of years later, I worked up the courage to 'come out' to one of the guys at school who was already out. He invited me to this college party a friend of his was having. I met a few guys, had a few drinks. That's where I met Andy. He seemed perfect: eighteen, sexy, shy, kinda quiet. He asked me out for the following weekend, and I went. That first night, he didn't try anything heavier than holding my hand. I thought it was because he was such a gentleman. The next time we went out, he corrected that impression for me." Tears were rolling down his face, but Seth kept going with the story. "On our second date, he took me to his place, an off campus apartment he shared with a couple of roommates. We started drinking, and then he made his move. He was all over me. Hell, I had never even kissed a guy before, and he was undoing my zipper. I fought him off, but he was too strong for me." Seth shuddered at the memory and stopped long enough to pull himself together. "When he was done, he passed out from all the alcohol, and I was able to get away. I ran for a few blocks before I found a pay phone. I called Dad to come and get me and told him the whole story."

Nate was shaking too bad to speak, so Brandon said, "Did he took you to the hospital? Please tell me you pressed charges."

A shadow fell over Seth's eyes. "No. Dad was afraid the whole world would find out I was gay if he did that. He said we would handle it privately, that the doctors at the hospital and the police just wouldn't understand. Instead, he sent me to a shrink that convinced me I wasn't really gay, I was just confused. I found out later that she belonged to one of those religions that believe all homosexuals should be rounded up and shot. At the time, I was young enough, and vulnerable enough, to believe her when she told me all homosexuals were rapists and molesters like Andy."

"So when Nate told you he was gay just a few months later-"

"I freaked out. In all honesty, I think that's what happened with Dad, too. I convinced myself that Nate was evil, and that he was just like Andy. It wasn't until after he came to see me on my birthday that I began to wonder if maybe Dad and the therapist were wrong. I mean, I still had feelings for other guys. Not even being raped was enough to kill those. I found a therapist at school who helped me work through it all. It took me a couple of years, but I finally realized that being gay and being raped had nothing to do with each other. Hell, straight women get raped and they don't just stop being straight."

Nate stood up and walked over to the window, Brandon got the feeling he wasn't seeing what lay outside, but remembering the events that brought him here, instead. Finally, he turned around and said, "If everything you say true, then why did it take you a full two years after you finished therapy to try and contact me?"

Seth walked over to where Nate stood and took his hand. "I was ashamed, Nate. I didn't know how to apologize for the things I'd said and done. I know what happened to me is no excuse for the way I hurt you, and I don't expect you just to welcome me back into your life with open arms. All I'm asking for is a chance to get to know you again." Seth dropped his hand and went back to his seat.

Nate ran his fingers through his hair and came to stand by the couch. Brandon stood up beside him and wrapped an arm around his waist. Nate said, "Look, Seth, I'm really sorry for what happened to you, and I'm glad you got help, but I'm just not sure what you expect of me. I mean, do you really think I'm going to believe that mom and dad have had some miraculous change of heart about me just because you announced that you're gay and they claim to accept it? I was there six years ago when they decided a fag wasn't worth having as a son. The very fact that they sent you here to plead their case proves that they aren't exactly overrun with concern for my well-being."

Seth clasped his hands in his lap. "They're scared, Nate. Just give us a chance, man." He rose to his feet and pulled a card from his wallet, handing it to his brother. "This has my cell phone number and my e-mail on it. I have to get back Atlanta, back to school, but I have a three day weekend coming up the week after next. I'd like to bring Phillip up here to meet you, if that's alright." Seeing the stern look on Brandon's face, he said, "We'll stay in a hotel somewhere in Chicago, I promise. I'm not trying to force you into anything, Nate. I just want to be with you again, is all. We were really close once. You were my hero, remember?"

"Yeah, as a matter of fact, I do." He sighed, and Brandon could hear the exhaustion in his voice. "Let me talk it over with Bran, and I'll let you know, O.K.?"

Seth walked over and pulled him into a quick hug. Brandon noticed that Nate didn't resist, but neither did he return the embrace. After a moment, Seth broke away and said, "Hey, where are you staying, anyway? Where can I contact you, besides here at the office?"

Brandon was about to tell Seth "don't call us, we'll call you, but Nate got to him first. "I've got your number and your e-mail. Let me make the first move, alright?"

Seth didn't seem to like it, but he simply nodded his head and walked towards the door. As he was leaving, he said, "It was good to see you again, Nate. I've really missed you." Before Nate could reply, he was gone.

Brandon fell back onto the couch and pulled Nate down onto his lap. "How you holding up?"

Nate laid his head on Brandon's shoulder. "I'm not sure how I feel, to tell you the truth. When Seth told us about being raped, all I really wanted to do was take him into my arms and cuddle him the way I did when we were kids. I wanted to hurt the bastard who did that to him, and I wanted to blast my father for not prosecuting the son-of-a-bitch. My feelings towards my parents may be mixed, but I've never stopped loving Seth. I've always wanted to have a relationship with him again. I guess it's the timing that makes me a little suspicious."

Brandon kissed the top of his head. "Me, too, babe. Until we know more about this sudden turn-around in your family, let's not take any chances, O.K.?"

Nate snuggled closer. Brandon did his best not to get a hard-on, but finally gave up and hoped Nate wouldn't feel it. After a minute, Nate said, "I do know one thing. I couldn't have made it through today if it hadn't been for you. Thanks for seeing me through this, Bran."

Brandon just kissed him again and held him tighter. Having Nate in his arms was all the thanks he needed.

* * *

Over the next few days, they fell into a pattern. Either Brandon or a deputy would follow Nate to work in the mornings, then the same routine would be carried out on the way home. Usually Nate's day ended before Brandon's did, so he would come home and spend a little time with Sasha before starting supper. Since Brandon's idea of a balanced meal involved a frozen dinner that included dessert, Nathan took charge of their meals. His Grandmother Morris had passed to him her love of cooking, a task made even more enjoyable by the homey warmth of Brandon's kitchen.

Nate took down a large mixing bowl and began measuring out the ingredients for bread dough. He would make several loaves tonight, then freeze what they didn't eat the first couple of days. He'd just added the eggs when Brandon came in looking tired and frustrated.

Nate didn't say a word. He walked over to the refrigerator and handed Brandon a beer, then took his coat and hung it in the mudroom. Brandon muttered his thanks and headed towards the living room. Nate finished mixing all the bread ingredients and put the dough aside to rise. By the time he got into the living room, Bran was more than halfway through his beer, but his mood didn't seem to have improved. Nate walked over to the chair where Brandon was slumped and sat on his heels in front of him.

"Rough day, I take it."

Bran took another swig of his beer. "I'm beginning to think that's the status quo around here."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not much to talk about."

"Considering that you've consumed almost an entire sixteen ounce can of beer in less than five minutes, I find that hard to believe."

Brandon sat the near-empty can on the coffee table and leaned back in his chair.

"Do you remember me telling you that some of the most successful businesses in Reed were owned by openly gay couples?"

"Yes."

"Well, H. and G. Dry-cleaning and Alterations is one of them. Or, I guess I should say was. The place burned to the ground this morning."

Nate's stomach began to roll. "Arson?"

"The official report is inconclusive, because of all the flammable materials and heat-driven presses dry-cleaners use. At least, it was inconclusive until I found a letter on my desk claiming responsibility for the whole thing." He picked the beer back up and downed the rest of it. "According the writer of said letter, it is now 'fag season' in Reed, Illinois. The fire this morning is just the beginning."

"So the attack on me really was a gay bashing."

"Either that, or someone is going to a hell of a lot of trouble to make it look that way. The thing is, Hal Wallace and Glen Payne have both lived in Reed most of their lives, the past twenty together as a couple. I can't understand why someone would just decide to target them after all these years."

"You still think the guy that's after me is doing all this to make it look like a gay-bashing, don't you?"

Brandon ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. "I just don't know, Nate. I mean, Reed has a population of just under fifteen thousand. Going by the current statistics that at least ten percent of the U.S. population is gay, and then rounding up slightly to account for Reed's reputation of being friendly to gays and lesbians, that gives a rough estimate of about two hundred homosexuals living in or around town. Granted, a good chunk of them are probably still in the closest, but if I tried, I think I could name at least fifty gay people here in Reed who make no secret about their sexual preferences. Most of those folks have lived here for years without incident. Why now? We hadn't had a single recorded case of gay-bashing until that first attack on you."

Nate said, "Meaning my being here in Reed started this whole thing, so it must be my fault, right?" He rose from his heels and headed for the stairs.

"Where are you going?"

Nate paused on the top step. "If your theory is correct, and all of this is just some kind of ruse to get to me, the rest of the gays and lesbians in Reed will be safe once I leave." You'll be safe.

Brandon got up so fast, his chair turned over. "No way in hell are you leaving, Nate."

Nate didn't answer. He went up to the guest room and opened one of the suitcases he'd bought when he replaced all his clothes. He was putting in several pairs of boxer shorts when Brandon came through the door.

"Maybe you didn't here me the first time. I said, you aren't leaving."

Nate didn't even look up from his packing. "Unless you plan on arresting me, you can't stop me."

Brandon leaned against the doorframe. "You think not?"

Nate crossed to the closet and pulled out a handful of dress shirts. "I'm not going to stand here and argue with you, Brandon."

Bran crossed his arms over his chest. "Good. Since we aren't going to argue, put your stuff back in the closet."

"No."

Brandon came to stand in front of Nate. "So what, you're going to run out on your patients, run out on Amy?"

"I'll keep paying my half of the expenses until Amy can find another partner for the practice. She'll understand once she hears about the fire and the letter. As for my patients, I haven't really been here long enough for any of them to become dependent on me."

"So what, you're going back to Atlanta?"

"Maybe."

The tone in Brandon's voice made Nate wince. "Now that your brother has deemed you worthy, and your folks are going along with it, you're planning just to go crawling back to them? You think you can be one big, happy family, again?"

Nate wanted to cry, but he forced himself to shrug and say, "It beats sitting here waiting for someone to torch another business. And what if he doesn't settle for just destroying property this time? What if he ups the stakes and kills someone?" What if he comes after you.

Nate moved towards the closet again, but Brandon blocked his path. "And what if leaving is exactly what this guy wants you to do? What if the whole purpose is to lure you out and get you alone so he can finish what he started?"

"I'm willing to take that chance if it means keeping the others safe." Nate tried to walk around him, but Brandon wouldn't budge.

"Well, good for you, but I'm not willing to take a chance on you getting killed just so you can play noble."

Nate looked him right in the eye. "You have no say in this."

The anger that flashed across Brandon's face was chilling. "That's funny, because I seem to remember a conversation a few days ago in which we both agreed we were starting something here."

"Starting is the operative word, Brandon. Since we've been taking things so slowly, there really isn't that much to end, now is there?"

Brandon snorted. "Yeah, well who's fault is that?"

Nate did his best not to let Brandon see how much that statement hurt. "I knew you would throw that in my face sooner or later, especially the way you've been pawing at me like a stag in rut lately. Guess it's a good thing I'm leaving before you implode from sexual frustration."

Brandon was so angry now, Nate could almost feel the rage vibrating from his skin. "You know what? Maybe you're right. I'm sure there are plenty of guys in this town who wouldn't mind being pawed at. God forbid anyone should offend your virgin sensibilities." He turned to go downstairs, but not before saying, "Thank God I never fucked you. I don't relish the thought of frostbite on my dick." Nate listened in stunned silence as Brandon's footsteps echoed down the stairs and the front door slammed shut. He gathered the rest of his clothes and headed for his car. He had a hard time seeing through his tears.

He wanted to go back and tell Brandon the truth, that he was the one Nate was really scared for. If the guy who was after him found out about his feelings for Brandon, he would become the next logical target. In just two short weeks, Brandon had become everything to Nate. His heartbeat skipped every time the man walked into the room, much less the way he felt when Bran kissed him. He felt more at home in Bran's house than he had anywhere else, ever. Just the thought of anything happening to Bran was more than Nate could take. Better to have Brandon hate him than to see the man he loved hurt, maybe even killed. The man he loved? God help him, but it was true. He was head-over-heels in-love with Brandon Nash.

He pulled out onto the main road with no idea where he was headed. If he was in love with Brandon, was it possible that Bran might feel the same way? And if he did, was Nate hurting him worse by walking out on him than if he stayed and they fought through this thing together? Brandon was a complete pro when it came to his job. If anyone could catch this guy, he could. What if he left and the attacks continued, anyway? By doing that, he would rob them both of the chance to be find happiness. God, he was so confused. He needed to talk to Amy. She always knew the right thing to do.

He saw a curve in the road with a place to turn around just on the other side. He would go to Amy's and talk this through, then call Bran and explain his reasoning. He only hoped he would be willing to talk to him after the horrible things they'd both said.

Nate approached the curve doing fifty. He put his foot on the brake to slow the car down, but nothing happened. He pushed the pedal again and his foot went all the way to the floor. He was doing fifty around a blind curve with no brakes. As soon as the car went into the bend, Nate knew he wasn't going to make it. He closed his eyes and pictured Brandon's face one last time before his serviceable little Honda ran off the road and crashed into a tree.

* * *

What in the hell was he doing? Brandon sat behind the desk in his office and thought back to all the things he'd said to Nate. If they gave out awards for 'Ass of the Year' Brandon would win by a mile. He knew Nate well enough by now to know why he was really leaving; Nate was trying to protect him.

If he was honest with himself, he knew Nate's reasoning all along, but he'd been just frustrated enough to let his anger get the best of him. Now Nate was probably gone and Brandon would have the devil's own time finding him. He would, though. No way was he going to let Nate get away from him. Especially not when he was taking a chunk of Brandon's heart with him.

If anyone would know where Nate was likely to go, it would be Amy. Bran picked up the phone and almost had the number dialed when Sam came in.

"Boss, we've got a report of an accident off of Highway Four. An ambulance is on it's way and I'm headed out there now, but it sounds like a bad one. You want to ride out with me?"

Bran grabbed his coat. He usually handled the more serious accident scenes himself because of all the red-tape involved. He said a silent prayer that no one was hurt and headed out.

They rode in Sam's cruiser with Brandon sitting shotgun. Fire and rescue must already be on the scene because he could see flashing lights in the distance.

"Any word on who it is?"

Sam shook his head. "Not yet."

Because of the winding road and the rescue vehicles already taking up the shoulder, Sam parked the cruiser several lengths back. They were met by a deputy half-way there.

"Boss, I'm so sorry. I didn't know who it was or I would have called you."

Brandon stared at the young officer while dread settled in his gut. "What are you talking about, Collins?"

"The doctor. I don't know what happened, but he slid off the road and hit a tree. Must have been going-" Brandon took off at a flat run. He got to the wrecked car just in time to see the medics pulling Nate's prone body from the twisted metal. He had a thick gash above his left brow and his blood covered right arm was bent at an unnatural angle. What got to Bran the most, though, was the pallor of Nate's skin. He looked lifeless, dead. Brandon took one look at the man he'd come to think of as his and did something he'd never done in his life: he fainted in a rush of blacktop and agony.