Free Cherish & Blessed by Tere Michaels

boy right.
    “Your dad and sharp objects are never a good idea. Plus we don’t have a fireplace.” Matt gestured to the empty seats in the room.
    “Helena, Katie, and Elizabeth are in the back room checking out the Black Friday sales.” He shook his head. “Oh, and that lady and Dad had a huge fight, and she got her bags. So we’ll have extra dessert.”
    “Good to know.” Matt clapped his hands together, and Shane startled in his sleep. “Off to deal with your dad.”
    Danny snickered.
    Matt walked through the clean kitchen and to the back deck, then paused at the sliding glass door to watch his lover making a wide circuit, dodging stacked chairs and the covered grill on his way. A shaft of sadness hit his gut, the never-ending frustration of how he couldn’t quite help Evan find the peace he so desperately needed. They’d gotten closer. Better. Days and weeks when things were quiet and comfortable and happy. Then a bump and, more often than not, the spiral of Evan’s moods.
    Matt spent a lot of time talking to his friend slash therapist Liz about this, more time in semifake therapy than Evan ever had. It was something he had to deal with—not just Evan’s moods but the fact that it wasn’t his job to fix them.
    Except he couldn’t help but keep trying.
    Matt pushed the door open and stepped onto the deck. Another burst of late-November wind blew by, and he wished he’d remembered a coat this time. He could barely feel his hands at this point.
    “Hey,” he called, deceptively casual. He put his hands in his pockets, trying to get some feeling back in his fingers.
    Evan paused. When he turned, Matt could see his expression was… lost. That somehow hurt worse than the sadness he was expecting.
    “Hey. Did they leave?”
    “Noooo. I think Blake was going to talk to Cornelia. PS, he’s a good guy. So’s his kid. Kent and Miranda—who knows?” Matt took a few steps toward Evan. “The ladies are spending your money, Shane is in a turkey coma, and Danny just wants his fair share of pie.”
    “Today has turned out worse than I imagined. And that’s impressive considering how pessimistic I am.”
    Matt closed the distance between them. When their shoulders touched, he pushed gently against Evan’s side. “It’s not that bad.”
    Evan shook his head. “You don’t know….”
    “What? What don’t I know?”
    “Miranda’s really….” Evan looked away.
    Matt—because he knew, he always knew—reached down to take his hand. “Miranda really secretly hates me? Except not so secretly?” he asked gently.
    “It’s not hate.”
    “No, it’s misplaced anger. I get it.” Matt squeezed their fingers together. “Not gonna lie and pretend it doesn’t matter, because it hurts my feelings like a motherfucker.”
    Evan turned back, his face locked into a painful grimace. “I don’t—I honestly don’t know what to do.”
    “I can volunteer to move out for a while, let Miranda come back here and—”
    But Evan shook his head. “Absolutely not.”
    “She’s your kid. And I can go stay at the work site for a few weeks.” Matt’s voice was sure, even as his heart hurt. But he would do it without a second thought if it meant easing the expression of defeat on Evan’s face. “The kids come first.”
    Evan sagged next to him as the grip on his hand got harder. “I don’t want to be manipulated like that. And in the end, what does it matter? You’ll come back, and she’ll be angry.”
    Matt opened his mouth to say more, to be so graciously self-sacrificing, but Evan narrowed his eyes, and his downturned mouth morphed into something angry. “Don’t you dare.”
    “Fine,” Matt said, halfway between breezy and pained. “I was just going for my martyr badge.”
    “Shut up.”
    Evan leaned over for a kiss, taking Matt’s mouth with a ferocity he usually reserved for a few too many beers and no kids at home. He pulled him closer, manipulating their bodies until they were flush together, chest