It was an old joke between them, but Wyatt’s face darkened, eyes narrowing, voice hard. “Stay away from my little brother.”
Fuck. Linc should have seen this coming, should have known that Wyatt had something more on his mind than May’s worries. He’d probably been stewing all day, waiting to bring this up. That was how Wyatt got, even back when they were kids. He’d brood and brood and then his temper would flare.
“Me? What would I want with him?” Stopping, he turned to face Wyatt. If they were going to do this, he wasn’t going to let Wyatt lecture over his shoulder like Linc was some ornery kid on a scout hike being called to task.
“Don’t play dumb with me. I know you. Wasn’t that me who didn’t say a damn word when you took the number of that bartender New Year’s Eve?”
Linc swallowed hard. He’d lay down his life for Wyatt, but he also wasn’t going to let his best friend push him around either.
“Who I’ve taken to bed has zero to do with your brother. Zilch.” On that point, he could be firm. That Wyatt disapproved went without saying—they might be brothers of the soul, but that didn’t mean they always saw eye to eye. His skin prickled, old wounds he tried his damnedest to ignore.
“Fuck yes, it does. He came out. Told the whole damn family yesterday at Sunday dinner that he’s gay.”
“Bet that took some balls, standing up to all of you.” Somehow Linc managed a steady tone even as he wondered what in the hell Jacob had been thinking, coming right out and announcing that to his large, boisterous family which wasn’t exactly known for open-mindedness, especially among the brothers. “Good on him, but again, nothing to do with me.”
“Bullshit.” The meanness was back along with a gravelly laugh. “He’s been following you around two weeks now, doing all your crap jobs, ever since he got back from Vegas looking like a kicked puppy.”
“He’s been helpful.” He kept his voice mild, not about to let on to any enjoyment of Jacob’s presence, the way he lightened Linc’s load far beyond hauling trash. And yeah, Jacob had been down, but some of that defeated air was starting to clear, leaving behind a guy with a quick wit, easy smile and strong back. “Not gonna deny I’ve been able to use him with the shit my old man left behind. It’s a total—”
“Mess that ain’t yours.” Wyatt resumed their trek, not looking to see if Linc was following. Which he did. Like always. He might not like this conversation, but he owed Wyatt too damn much to just stalk off, even if part of him was tempted.
“I’ve been telling you,” Wyatt continued as they crested a hill. “It’s time you moved on. Let it go.”
“Let it go to who?” This was an old argument, but Linc still took the bait, not liking the undercurrent of a message that maybe he should leave town again. “No real other family stepping up to the plate. Victor’s dead. Dad’s dead. Nah, man, it’s on me. And Jacob’s been a help. Stronger than he looks—”
Wyatt cut him off with a warning noise. “Did he tell you anything about whatever shit went down in Vegas? You wouldn’t keep that from me, would you?”
“Nah. He didn’t say shit about his love life.” But actually Linc might have kept quiet if he had. Not maliciously, but Wyatt wasn’t good with a secret, and Linc...well, he had enough of his own. He could hold on to someone else’s for them until they were ready to share.
However, something had gone down in Vegas, something big to send Jacob home, away from all his MMA friends, tail between his legs, looking as heartbroken as Linc had ever seen a guy. And, well, it didn’t take an engineer to piece together the facts.
“How’s your mom taking it?” he asked. Of all the Hartman family members, she was least likely to cast Jacob out. He was her baby, and Linc couldn’t see her hurling hate at him, no matter what she might personally believe. And as she went, so would the rest of the family, Wyatt’s homophobic ass included.
“Ha.” Wyatt snorted. “Mom’s playing this like she’s known for years, but Dad just got real quiet, then went back to the TV in their room. I’m worried about his heart, man.”
“Him? Strong as a fucking ox.” Linc was more worried about Wyatt’s liver these days than his robust old man’s maladies. He knew the Hartman family, knew how much they doted on Jacob, even if he did try all their patience from time to time. The way Linc saw it, they’d survive this shock.
Wyatt might not.
“He ain’t gonna make a hotshot crew, not now.”
“He wants that?” Dread gathered in Linc’s gut that had exactly nothing to do with Jacob’s announcement or Wyatt’s predictable meltdown. Something in him didn’t like the thought of Jacob out here, doing the work that he and Wyatt had done for years, fighting forest fires. Jacob in the line of danger didn’t sit right with him, not at all.