The Closer. Rhonda Nelson

snorted.

      If that was the so-called power of love, he didn’t want any damn part of it.

      And, much as he genuinely liked Justin, he didn’t want any part of a relationship with him either. Strictly speaking, that wasn’t true. He would like to get to know him better, would even reluctantly admit to a bizarre bond with the boy. But he couldn’t afford to get to know him, couldn’t put his mother and sister through that emotional turmoil, and protecting them was too ingrained in him at this point to change now. Someone had had to look after them when his father left and that someone had been Griff. They counted on him, depended on him. Going through the surgery had been difficult enough—separate waiting rooms for the families, set visiting hours to avoid running into each other. A nightmare.

      It was over and done with, Griff thought. Six months post-op and all was well. Justin was healthy and out of danger, and his own recovery had progressed without complication. It was time to move on and the sooner Justin realized that, the better.

      As if merely thinking of his brother had prompted it, his cell vibrated at his waist. Griff frowned, steeled himself before glancing at the display. Another text from the boy. Need some advice re: the bro code. Can I get a call back when you’ve got time?

      He heaved an internal sigh. Not a demand, but a request. And a hopeful one at that. Damn...

      Jess shifted a little in her seat and her soft scent drifted to him once more. It was something mellow and sweet, and strangely familiar. “Everybody needs a hand once in a while and, in my experience, it’s usually those who need it the most who won’t ask for it.”

      “So you do this often?” he asked, thankful for the distraction. “Trade goods and services for repair work?”