Chapter One
LYLE
Exhausted and cold beyond endurance, Lyle longed to lay down and sleep in the snow, but he knew if he did, he’d never wake up. He had to keep going. Somewhere there had to be a shelter; a hut or a cave where he could rest until morning.
He didn’t know how long he’d been walking. It felt like hours. He didn’t even know how he’d ended up in this forest. Lyle was sure he’d never been here before. He’d never left Kingdom Mountain theme park since the day he was delivered to its door and discovered the hell that lay beyond the wrought iron gates.
He felt as if he were in a fog. He tried to remember, but as soon as he pinpointed one memory, everything became fuzzy. He’d woken up in the dorm and started work in the kitchen as usual, and after that was a blank. He’d suddenly become aware he was stumbling through a forest of pine trees, freezing cold, his mouth dry. And it had only gotten worse, visibility diminishing with each passing step. When had it gotten dark?
As he grew up, he’d stared at the trees beyond the gates, longing to be free to walk in the forests, but to wake up not knowing where he was or what he was doing here…Lyle was more scared than he’d ever been in his eighteen-year-old life.
“Happy eighteenth birthday, Lyle. Today is the day you’re going to die.”
His voice broke the silence, but it didn’t provide any comfort. For so long he’d heard nothing but the harshness of each breath and felt the burning pain of the cold air in his lungs.
He cried out as he sank deeper into the snow and stumbled, falling flat on his face. He wasn’t dressed for hiking in snowy terrain. He wore a thin red and yellow jacket that was too big for him, and the battered sneakers that he usually wore for work in the vast kitchens of the theme park. His pants were soaked to the knees from sinking into the snow, and he’d stopped feeling his feet a long while back.
“Please help me, Daddy.”
His words, almost fevered, broke the silence again. No one answered him and he sobbed. He didn’t have a Daddy, no matter how hard he prayed, and now he was going to die out here unless a miracle happened. But miracles only happened to good boys. And Lyle had spent his whole life being told he was bad.
He swayed, this time falling against a tree, his cheek scraping painfully against the icy bark. When he fell to his knees, he let himself fall all the way until he was face down in the snow. He stayed down, too stunned to move. Maybe he’d just rest here a while and catch his breath.
GRUFF
The fresh snowfall had made traversing the forest harder than usual, and Gruff was ready to go home. Hunting had been poor, and he was thankful for the meat already in the freezer. He couldn’t stay too long out here. Darkness was falling, and it was already getting harder to see in the dense forest. If he wasn’t careful his brothers would be sending a search party out for him. Despite the fact he knew the forest like the back of his hand, his brothers always worried about him. That was the joy of being the youngest and smallest of seven. Gruff was always going to be the baby. Small was relative term as he was six foot three, with broad shoulders and a massive chest, but PJ was nearly seven feet tall. All the Brenner boys were built on the farside of huge.
Seven boys, all unmarried and still living in the family home, managing the family’s Christmas tree farm. They knew the townsfolk talked about them, but by now they ignored it. Folk had learned to be polite to their faces and gossip behind their backs since Damien, the oldest brother, took out Chester Mayfield’s teeth when he’d laughed about one of Damien’s siblings.
The girls had long since quit trying to throw themselves at any of them. Handsome as they were, the Brenner boys didn’t look at girls that way. Everyone knew the Brenner boys were all gay. The women of the town gossiped about how their dear mother must be turning in her grave, and the men opined that their father should have taken a strap to them. The brothers ignored them all. Their wonderful parents had loved them dearly, and the brothers had mourned them hard when a man had liquored up and got behind the wheel of his car. He’d died in the blazing wreck along with their parents.
Gruff was the youngest at twenty-eight, Damien the oldest at forty, and they still lived together. They were all gay, but there was an added complication, which was why they were unattached.
Seven gay Daddies living in a house. That was some complication.
Gruff was happy to be close to home and dreaming of his dinner when something at the base of a tree caught his eye. He squinted, trying to work out what it was. In the middle of the forest, the only colors were the pure-white of the snow and the deep browns and greens of the trees. He didn’t expect to see anything red or yellow glinting through the gloom. Heading in the direction of the tree, he was sinking into the snow with every step. Whatever it was, it didn’t belong out here, and he didn’t want an animal to try to eat it by mistake.
As he got closer, he saw that that it was bigger than he expected, and his heart sank, knowing immediately what it was. They were deep in his family’s land. No one would have ventured here by mistake. Gruff braced himself for what he might find. He’d found people in the woods before, frozen to death, miles from help, although never one so close to their home. The forest wasn’t a place for the unwary or unprepared. He loved it here, but then he and his brothers had been born on the mountain. They knew what they were doing.
Gruff knelt beside the body, snow already covering the thin red and yellow jacket. Five minutes later and he might not have spotted it. He studied the damp, dark curls and briefest glimpse of pale skin, then rolled the body over gently, and his breath caught.
Gruff sat back on his heels. “Oh, you’re barely more than a boy. How did you end up here?”
The dark hair, his face the color of the snow and his lips blue, and an abrasion marring the perfection of his left cheek. The poor boy. How had he gotten trapped up here? The nearest trail was miles away. Usually Gruff left the bodies after snapping a photo and notifying the sheriff’s department. But with this pretty one, his heart sank at the idea of leaving him here at the mercy of the predators. Gruff didn’t question too closely his motives for taking the little one back with him. He was beyond help now. It just didn’t seem right to leave him.
“Why were you here all alone, little snow twink?”
He scooped the body up and put it over his shoulder. Despite the fact the boy could be no taller than five foot eight, he was a dead weight. Gruff wasn’t surprised he’d not seen the boy on the way out. The forest was huge, and he’d only spotted him this time by chance. If only he’d found him sooner. How long had the boy been here before succumbing to the cold? Gruff was just thankful in these temperatures, death would have been quick. Small mercies.
It was dark by the time he got home, as it took longer with the additional weight, and he sank to his knees many times. He was relieved when his family’s large log cabin eventually came into view. Where would he put the boy to make him safe from the predators? He didn’t want to attract stray bears and wolves, and neither did he want a dead body in the home. He could just imagine what his brothers would say about that.
As he approached the cabin, the door burst open and a pile of men, all of them bellowing at the top of their considerable voices, rushed toward him. They were huge and bearded, and all had their father’s deep blue eyes.