Gerard drew himself up to his full height and lifted his chin, his mouth setting itself in a prim line.

"It isn't necessary to make fun of me, Mr. Iero."

He said calmly, but his even tone was hard won. He knew he fell short in the come-hither department; he didn't need sarcasm to remind him. Usually he wasn't disturbed by his mousiness, having accepted it as an unchangeable fact, much like having the sun rise in the east. But Mr. Iero made him feel strangely vulnerable, and it was oddly painful that he should have pointed out how unappealing he was.
Frank's straight black brows drew together over his high-bridged nose.

"I wasn't making fun of you."

He snapped.

"I was dead serious, sweetheart. I want you off of my mountain."

"Then I'll leave, of course."

He replied steadily.

"But it was still unnecessary to make fun of me."

He put his hands on his hips.

"Make fun of you? How?"

A flush tinged Gerard's exquisite skin, but his hazel/green eyes never wavered.

"I know I'm not an attractive man, certainly not the type to stir a man's—er, savage appetites."

He was serious. Ten minutes ago Frank would have agreed with him that he was plain, and God knew he was no fashion plate, but what astounded him was that he honestly didn't seem to realize what it meant that he was Indian, or what he'd meant by his sarcasm, or even that he had been strongly aroused by his closeness. A lingering throbbing in his loins reminded him that his reaction hadn't completely subsided. He gave a harsh laugh, the sound devoid of amusement. Why not put a little more excitement in his life? When Gerard heard the flat truth, he wouldn't be able to get off his mountain fast enough.

"I wasn't joking or making fun."

He said. His black eyes glittered at the younger man.

"Touching you like that, being so close to you that I could smell the sweetness, turned me on."

Astonished, Gerard stared at him.

"Turned you on?"

He asked blankly.

"Yeah."

He still stared at him as if he were speaking a different language, and impatiently he added..

"Got me hot, however you want to describe it."

Gerard pushed a silky strand of hair behind his ear.

"You're making fun of me again!"

He accused. It was impossible. He had never made a man... aroused a man in his life.
Frank was already irritated, already aroused. He had learned to use iron control when dealing with Anglos, but something about this prim little teacher got under his skin. Frustration filled him until he thought he might explode. He hadn't intended to touch Gerard, but suddenly he had his hands on his waist, pulling him toward him.

"Maybe you need a demonstration."

He said in a rough undertone, and bent to cover Gerard's mouth with his.
Gerard trembled in profound shock, his eyes enormous as Frank moved his lips over his. Frank's eyes were closed. Gerard could see the individual lashes, and for a moment marvelled at how thick they were. Then his hands, still clasped on his waist, drew him into firm contact with his muscled body, and he gasped. Frank took instant advantage of his opened mouth, probing inside with his tongue. He quivered again, and his eyes slowly closed as a strange heat began to warm his insides. The pleasure was unfamiliar, and so intense that it frightened him. A host of new sensations assailed him, making him dizzy. There was the firmness of his lips, his heady taste, the startling intimacy of his tongue stroking his as if enticing it to play. He felt the heat of his body, smelled the warm muskiness of his skin. His thin chest was pressed against the muscular planes of Frank's chest, and his nipples began to tingle in that strange, embarrassing way again.


Suddenly Frank lifted his mouth from his, and sharp disappointment made his eyes fly open. His black gaze burned him.

"Kiss me back."

He muttered.

"I don't know how."

Gerard blurted, still unable to believe this was happening.
His voice was almost guttural.

"Like this."

Frank took his mouth again, and this time he parted his lips immediately, eager to accept his tongue and feel that odd, surging pleasure once more. He moved his mouth over the younger man's, moulding his lips with fierce pleasure, teaching him how to return the pressure. His tongue touched his again, and this time Gerard responded shyly in kind, welcoming his small invasion with gentle touches of his own. He was too inexperienced to realise the symbolism of his acceptance, but Frank began to breathe harder and faster, and his kiss deepened, demanding even more of him.

A frightening excitement exploded through Gerard's body, going beyond mere pleasure and becoming a hungry need. He was no longer cold at all, but burning inside as his heartbeat increased until his heart was banging against his ribs. So this was what he meant when he'd said he got him hot. Frank got him hot, too, and it stunned him to think Frank had felt this same restless yearning, this incredible wanting. He made a soft, unconscious sound and moved closer to him, not knowing how to control the sensations his experienced kisses had aroused.

Frank's hands tightened painfully on his waist, and a low, rough sound rumbled in his throat. Then he lifted the lighter man, pulled him closer, adjusted Gerard's hips against his and graphically demonstrated his response to him.

Gerard hadn't known it could be like that. He hadn't known that desire could burn so hot, could make him forget his grandma's warnings about men and the nasty things they liked to do to women and sometimes other men. Gerard had quite sensibly decided that those things couldn't be too nasty, or men and women wouldn't put up with them, but at the same time he had never flirted or tried to attract a boyfriend. The men he had met at college and on the job had seemed normal, not slavering sex fiends; he was comfortable with other men. It was just that he wasn't sexy himself; no man had ever beaten down doors to go out with him, or even managed to accomplish the dialling of his telephone number, so his exposure to men hadn't prepared him for the tightness of Frank Iero's arms, the hunger of his kisses, or the hardness of his manhood pushing against the juncture of his thighs. Nor had he known that he could want more.

Unconsciously Gerard locked his arms around Frank's neck and squirmed against him, tormented by increasing frustration. His body was on fire, empty and aching and wanting all at once, and he didn't have the experience to control it. The new sensations were a tidal wave, swamping his mind beneath the overload from his nerve endings. He was hard, and he had no idea how to deal with that.

Frank jerked his head back, his teeth locked as he relentlessly brought himself back under control. Black fire burned in his eyes as he looked down at Gerard. His kisses had made the slight young teacher's soft lips red and pouty, and delicate pink coloured his translucent porcelain skin. His eyes were heavy-lidded as he opened them and slowly met his gaze. His blonde hair had slipped completely from behind his ears, and tumbled silkily around his face, almost to his shoulders. Desire was on his face; he already looked tousled, as if Frank had done more than kiss him, and in his mind he had. Gerard was light and delicate in his arms, but he had twisted against him with a hunger that matched his own.
He could take Gerard to bed now; he was that far gone, and Frank knew it. But when he did, it would be because he had consciously made the decision, not because he was so hot he didn't know what he was doing. His inexperience was obvious; Frank'd even had to teach him how to kiss—the thought stopped as abruptly as if he'd hit a mental wall, as he realized the full extent of his inexperience. Damn it, he was a virgin!
The thought staggered him. Gerard was looking at him now with those hazel/green eyes both innocent and questioning, languid with desire, as he waited for him to make the next move. He didn't know what to do. His arms were locked around Frank's neck, his body pressed tightly to his, his legs opened slightly to allow Frank to nestle against his own hard heat, and he was waiting for him because he didn't have a clue how to proceed. He hadn't even been kissed before. No man had touched that soft skin, or taken his nipples in his mouth. No man had loved him at all before.

Frank swallowed the lump that threatened to choke him, his eyes still locked with Gerard's.

"God Almighty, Sweetheart, that nearly got out of hand."

Gerard blinked.

"Did it?"

His tone was prim, the words clear, but the dazed, sleepy look was still in his eyes,
Slowly, because he didn't want to let him go, and gently, because he knew he had to, Frank let his body slip down his until he was standing on his feet again. He was innocent of the ramifications, but Frank wasn't. He was Frank Iero, half-breed, and he was the schoolteacher. The good citizens of Ruth wouldn't want Gerard associating with him; he was in charge of their young people, with untold influence on their forming morals. No parents would want their impressionable son or daughter being taught by a man who was having a wild fling with an Indian ex-con. His prison record could be accepted, but his Indian blood would never go away.

So he had to let him go, no matter how much he wanted to take him to his bedroom and teach him all the things that went on between men who were that way inclined.

Gerard's arms were still around his neck, his fingers buried in the hair at his nape. He seemed incapable of movement. Frank reached up to take his wrists and draw his hands away from him.

"I think I'll come back later."

A new voice intruded in Gerard's dreamworld of newly discovered sensuality, and he jerked away, colour burning his cheeks as he whirled to face the newcomer. A tall, dark-haired boy stood just inside the kitchen door, his hat in his hand.

"Sorry, Dad. I didn't mean to barge in."

Frank stepped away from him.

"Stay. He came to see you, anyway."

The boy looked at Gerard quizzically.

"You could have fooled me."

Frank merely shrugged.

"This is Gerard Way, the new schoolteacher. Mr Way, my son, Lucas."

Even through his embarrassment, Gerard was jolted that he would call him "Mr Way" after the intimacy they had just shared. But he seemed so calm and controlled, as if it hadn't affected him at all, while every nerve in Gerard's body was still jangling. He wanted to fling himself against him and give himself up to that encompassing fire.

Instead he stood there, his arms stiffly at his sides while his face burned, and forced himself to look at Lucas Iero. He was the reason he was here, and he wouldn't allow himself to forget it again. As his embarrassment faded, he saw that he was very like his father. But though he was only 15, he was already six feet tall and already towered over his father, and his broad young shoulders showed the promise of being as powerful. His face was a younger version of Frank's, as strong-boned and proud, the features precisely chiseled. He was calm and controlled, far too controlled for a 15 year old, and his eyes, oddly, were pale, glittering blue. Those eyes held something in them, something untamed, as well as a sort of bitter acceptance and knowledge that made him old beyond his years. He was his father's son.

There was no way Gerard could give up on him.
He held out her hand to the taller boy.

"I'd really like to talk to you, Lucas."

His expression remained aloof, but he crossed the kitchen to shake his hand.

"I don't know why."

"You dropped out of school."

The statement hardly needed verification, but he nodded. Gerard drew a deep breath.

"May I ask why?"

"There was nothing for me there."

Gerard felt frustrated by the calm, flat statement, because he couldn't sense any uncertainty in this unusual boy. As Frank had said, Lucas had made up his own mind and didn't intend to change it. He tried to think of another way to approach him, but Frank's quiet, deep voice interrupted.

"Mr Way, you can finish talking after you get into some sensible clothes. Lucas, don't you have some old jeans that might be small enough to fit him?"

To Gerard's astonishment, the boy looked him over with an experienced eye.

"I think so. Maybe the ones I wore when I was ten."

For a moment amusement sparkled in his blue-diamond eyes, and Gerard primmed his mouth. What did these Iero men get out of needlessly pointing out his lack of attractiveness?

"Socks, shirt, boots and coat."

Frank added to the list.

"The boots will be too big, but two pairs of socks will hold them on."

"Mr. Mackenzie, I really don't need extra clothes. What I have on will do until I get home."

"No, it won't. The high temperature today is about ten below zero. You aren't walking out of this house with thin pants and those stupid boots."

His DMs were suddenly stupid? He felt like flying to their defence, but remembered the snow that had gotten inside them and frozen his toes. What was sensible in California was woefully inadequate in a Wyoming whiter.

"Very well."

He assented, but only because it was, after all, the sensible thing to do. He still felt uncomfortable about taking Lucas' clothes, even temporarily. He had never worn anyone else's clothes before, never swapped sweaters or t-shirts with chums as an adolescent. Not even with Mikey. Grandma had thought such familiarity ill-bred.

"I'll see about your car while you change."

Without even glancing at him again, Frank put on his coat and hat and walked out the door.

"This way."

Lucas said, indicating that he should follow him. He did so, and Lucas looked over his shoulder.

"What happened to your car?"

"A water hose blew."

"Where is it?"

He stopped.

"It's on the road. Didn't you see it when you drove up?"

An awful thought struck him. Had his car somehow slid off the mountain?

"I came up the front side of the mountain. It's not as steep."

He looked amused again.

"You actually tried driving up the back road in a car, when you're not used to driving in snow?"

"I didn't know that was the back road. I thought it was the only road. Couldn't I have made it? I have snow tires."

"Maybe."

Gerard noticed that he didn't sound very confident in his ability, but he didn't protest, because he wasn't very confident himself. Lucas led the way through a rustic but comfortable living room and down a short hallway to an open door.

"My old clothes are boxed up in the storage room, but it won't take long for me to dig them out. You can change in here. It's my bedroom."

"Thank you."

Gerard murmured, stepping inside the room. Like the living room, it was rustic, with exposed beams and thick wooden walls. There was nothing in it to indicate it was inhabited by a teenage boy: no sports apparatus of any kind, no clothes on the floor. The full-size bed was neatly made, a homemade quilt smoothed on top. A straight chair stood in one corner. Next to his bed, bookshelves stretched from floor to ceiling; the shelves were obviously handmade, but weren't crude. They had been finished, sanded and varnished. They were crammed with books, and curiosity led him to examine the titles.

It took him a moment to realise that every book had to do with flight, from da Vinci's experiments through Kitty Hawk and space exploration. There were books on bombers, fighters, helicopters, radar planes, jets and prop planes, books on air battles fought in each war since pilots first shot at each other with pistols in World War I. There were books on experimental aircraft, on fighter tactics, on wing design and engine capability.

"Here are the clothes."

Lucas had entered silently and placed the clothes on the bed. Gerard looked at him, but his face was impassive.

"You like planes."

He said, then winced at his own banality.

"I like planes."

He admitted without inflection.

"Have you thought about taking flying lessons?"

"Yes."

He didn't add anything to that stark answer, however; he merely left the room and closed the door behind him.

Gerard was thoughtful as he slowly removed his inadequate clothing, and pulled on the things Lucas had brought. The collection of books indicated not merely an interest in flying, but an obsession. Obsessions were funny things; unhealthy ones could ruin lives, but some obsessions lifted people to higher planes of life, made them shine with a brighter light, burn with a hotter fire, and if those obsessions weren't fed, then the person withered, a life blighted by starvation of the soul. If he were right, he had a way to reach Lucas and get him back in school.

The jeans fit. Disgusted at this further proof that he had the figure of a ten-year-old boy, rather than that of a grown man, he pulled on the too-big flannel shirt and buttoned it, then rolled the sleeves up over his hands. As Frank had predicted, the worn boots were too big, but the two pairs of thick socks padded his feet enough that the boots didn't slip up and down on his heels too much. The warmth was heavenly, and he decided he would pinch pennies any way he could until he could afford a pair of boots.

Lucas was adding wood to the fire in the enormous rock fireplace when Gerard entered, and a little grin tugged at his mouth when he saw him.

"You sure don't look like Mr Lansdale, or any other teacher I've ever seen."

Gerard folded his hands.

"Looks have nothing to do with ability. I'm a very good teacher—even if I do look like a ten-year-old boy."

"Twelve. I wore those jeans when I was twelve."

"What a consolation."

Lucas laughed aloud, and Gerard felt pleased, because he had the feeling neither he nor his father laughed much.

"Why did you quit school?"

He had learned that if you kept asking the same question, you would often get different answers, and eventually the evasions would cease and the real answer would emerge. But Lucas looked at him steadily and gave the same answer as before.

"There was nothing for me there."

"Nothing more for you to learn?"


"I'm Indian, Mr Way. A mixed-breed. What I learned, I learned on my own."


Gerard paused.

"Mr Lansdale didn't—"

He stopped, unsure of how to phrase his question.

"I was invisible."

Lucas' young voice was harsh.

"From the time I started school. No one took the time to explain anything to me, ask me questions, or include me in anything. I'm surprised my papers were even graded."

"But you were number one in your class."

Lucas shrugged.

"I like books."

"Don't you miss school, miss learning?"

"I can read without going to school, and I can help Dad a lot more if I'm here all day. I know horses, Sir, maybe better than anyone else around here except for Dad, and I didn't learn about them in school. This ranch will be mine someday. This is my life. Why should I waste time in school?"

Gerard took a deep breath and played his ace.

"To learn how to fly."

Lucas couldn't prevent the avid gleam that shone briefly in his eyes, but it was quickly extinguished.

"I can't learn how to fly in Ruth High School. Maybe someday I'll take lessons."

"I wasn't talking about flying lessons. I was talking about the Air Force Academy."

His bronze skin whitened. This time Gerard didn't see a gleam of eagerness, but a deep, anguished need so powerful it shook him, as if he'd been shown a glimpse of heaven. Then he turned his head, and abruptly he looked older.

"Don't try to make a fool of me. There's no way."

"Why isn't there a way? From what I saw in your school records, your grade average will be high enough."

"I dropped out."

"You can go back."

"As far behind as I am? I'd have to repeat this grade, and I won't sit still while those jerks call me a stupid Indian."

"You aren't that far behind. I could tutor you, bring you up fast enough that you could start your senior year in the fall. I'm a licensed teacher, Lucas, and for your information, my credentials are very good. I'm qualified to tutor you in the classes you need."

The boy took a poker and jabbed at a log, sending a shower of sparks flying.

"What if I do it?"

He muttered.

"The Academy isn't a college where you take an entrance exam, pay your money and walk in."

"No. The usual way is to be recommended by your congressman."

"Yeah, well, I don't think my congressman is going to recommend an Indian. We're way down on the list of people it's fashionable to help. Dead last, as a matter of fact."

"I think you're making too much of your heritage."

Gerard said calmly.

"You can keep blaming everything on being Indian, or you can get on with your life. You can't do anything about other people's reactions to you, but you can do something about your own. You don't know what your congressman will do, so why give up when you haven't even tried yet? Are you a quitter?"

He straightened, his pale eyes fierce.

"I don't reckon."

"Then it's time to find out, isn't it? Do you want to fly bad enough that you'll fight for the privilege? Or do you want to die without ever knowing what it's like to sit in the cockpit of a jet doing Mach 1?"

"You hit hard, sir."

He whispered.

"Sometimes it takes a knock on the head to get someone's attention. Do you have the guts to try?"

"What about you? The folks in Ruth won't like it if you spend so much time with me. It would be bad enough if I were alone, but with Dad, it's twice as bad."

"If anyone objects to my tutoring you, I'll certainly set him straight."

Gerard said firmly.

"It's an honour to be accepted into the Academy, and that's our goal. If you'll agree to being tutored, I'll write to your congressman immediately. I think this time your heritage will work in your favour."

It was amazing how proud that strong young face could be.

"I don't want it if they give it to me just because I'm Indian."

"Don't be ridiculous."

Gerard scoffed.

"Of course you won't be accepted into the Academy just because you're half Indian. But if that fact catches the congressman's interest, I say, good. It would only make him remember your name. It'll be up to you to make the grade."

Lucas raked his hand through his black hair, then restlessly walked to the window to look out at the white landscape.

"Do you really think it's possible?"

"Of course it's possible. It isn't guaranteed, but it's possible. Can you live with yourself if you don't try? If we don't try?"

Gerard didn't know how to go about bringing someone to a congressman's attention for consideration for recommendation to the Academy, but he was certainly willing to write to every senator and representative Wyoming had seated in Congress, a letter a week, until he found out.

"If I agreed, it would have to be at night. I have chores around here that have to be done."

"Night is fine with me. Midnight would be fine with me, if it would get you back in school."

Lucas gave him a quick look.

"You really mean it, don't you? You actually care that I dropped out of school."

"Of course I care."

"There's no 'of course' about it. I told you, no other teacher cared if I showed up in class. They probably wished I hadn't."

"Well.."

Gerard said in his briskest voice.

"I care. Teaching is what I do, so if I can't teach and feel I'm doing some good, then I lose part of myself. Isn't that how you feel about flying? That you have to, or you'll die?"

"I want it so bad it hurts."

Lucas admitted, his voice raw.

"I read somewhere that flying is like throwing your soul into the heavens and racing to catch it as it falls."

"I don't think mine would ever fall."

He murmured, looking at the clear cold sky. He stared, entranced, as if paradise beckoned, as if he could see forever. He was probably imagining himself up there, free and wild, with a powerful machine screaming beneath him and taking him higher. Then he shook himself, visibly fighting off the dream, and turned to the teacher.

"Okay, Mr Way, when do we start?"

"Tonight. You've already wasted enough time."

"How long will it take for me to catch up?"

Gerard gave him a withering look.

"Catch up? You're going to leave them in the dust. How long it takes depends on how much work you can do."

"Yes, sir."

He said, grinning a little.
Gerard thought that already he looked younger, more like a boy, than he had before. He was, in all ways, far more mature than the other boys his age in his classes, but he looked as if a burden had been lifted from him. If flying meant that much to him, how had it felt to set himself a course that would deny him what he wanted most?

"Can you be at my house at six? Or would you rather I come here?"

Gerard thought of that drive, in the dark and snow, and wondered if he'd make it if he wanted him to come here.

"I'll come to your house, since you aren't used to driving in snow. Where do you live?"

"Go down the back road and take a left. It's the first house on the left."

He thought a minute.

"I believe it's the first house, period."

"It is. There isn't another house for five miles. That's the old Witcher house."

"So I've been told. It was kind of the school board to arrange living quarters for me."

Lucas looked dubious.

"More like it was the only way they had of getting another teacher in the middle of the year."

"Well, I appreciated it anyway."

Gerard said firmly. He looked out the window.

"Shouldn't your father be back by now?"

"Depends on what he found. If it was something he could fix right then, he'd do it. Look, here he comes now."

The black pickup roared to a stop in front of the house, and Frank got out. Coming up on the porch, he stomped his feet to rid his boots of the snow caked on them and opened the door. His cool black gaze flickered over his son, then to Gerard. His eyes widened fractionally as he examined every slim curve exhibited by Lucas' old jeans, but he didn't comment.

"Get your things together."

He instructed.

"I have a spare hose that will fit your car. We'll put it on, then take you home."

"I can drive."

Gerard replied.

"But thank you for your trouble. How much is the hose? I'll pay you for that."

"Consider it neighbourly assistance to a greenhorn. And we'll still take you home. I'd rather you practiced driving in the snow somewhere other than on this mountain."

His dark face was expressionless, as usual, but Gerard sensed that he'd made up his mind and wouldn't budge. He got his clothes from Lucas' room and the rest of his things from the kitchen. When he returned to the living room, Frank held a thick coat for him to wear. He slipped into it; since it reached almost to his knees and the sleeves totally obscured his hands, he knew it had to be Frank's.
Lucas had on his coat and hat again.

"Ready."

Frank looked at his son.

"Have you two had your talk?"

The boy nodded.

"Yes."

He met his father's eyes squarely.

"He's going to tutor me. I'm going to try to get into the Air Force Academy."

"It's your decision. Just make sure you know what you're getting into."

"I have to try."

Frank nodded once, and that was the end of the discussion. With Gerard sandwiched between them, they left the warmth of the house, and once again he was struck by the bitter, merciless cold. He scrambled gratefully into the truck, which had been left running, and the blast of hot air from the heater vents felt like heaven.

Frank got behind the wheel, and Lucas got in beside him, trapping him between their two bigger bodies. He sat with his hands primly folded and his booted feet placed neatly side-by-side as they drove down to an enormous barn with long stables extending off each side of it like arms. Frank got out and entered the barn, then returned thirty seconds later with a length of thick black hose.

When they reached his car, both Ieros got out and poked their heads under the raised hood, but Frank told him, in that tone of voice he already recognized as meaning business, to stay in the truck. He was certainly autocratic, but he liked Frank's relationship with Lucas. There was a strong sense of respect between them.

Gerard wondered if the townspeople were truly so hostile simply because the Ieros were half Indian. Something Lucas had said tugged at his memory, something about it would be bad enough if it were just him involved, but it would be twice as bad because of Frank. What about Frank? He'd rescued him from an unpleasant, even dangerous, situation, he'd seen to his comfort, and now he was repairing his car.

He'd also kissed him silly.

Gerard could feel his cheeks heat as he remembered those fierce kisses. No, the kisses, and remembering them, begot a different kind of heat. His cheeks were hot because his own behaviour was so appalling he could barely bring himself to think about it. He had never—never!—been so forward with a man. It was totally out of character for him.

Grandma would have had a conniption fit at the thought of her mousy, sedate grandson letting a strange man put his tongue in his mouth. It had to be unsanitary, though it was also, to be honest, exciting in a primitive way. And that wasn't even worrying about how she would handle the whole "gay" thing.

Gerard's face still felt hot when Frank got back into the truck, but he didn't even look at him.

"It's fixed. Lucas will follow us."

"But doesn't it need more water and antifreeze?"

Frank cast him a disbelieving look.

"I had a can of antifreeze in the back of the truck. Weren't you paying attention when I got it out?"

He blushed again. He hadn't been paying attention; he'd been lost in reliving those kisses he'd given him. His heart thundering and his blood racing. It was an extraordinary reaction, and he wasn't certain how to handle it. Ignoring it seemed the wisest course, but was it possible to ignore something like that?

Frank's powerful leg moved against his as he shifted gears, and abruptly he realised he was still sitting in the middle of the seat.

"I'll get out of your way."

He said hastily, and slid over by the window.
Frank had liked the feel of him sitting next to him, so close that his arm and leg brushed his whenever he changed gears, but he didn't tell him that. Things had gotten way out of hand at the house, but he didn't have to let them go any further. This deal with Lucas worried him, and Lucas was more important to him than the way a soft man felt in his arms.

"I don't want Lucas hurt because your do-gooder instincts won't leave well enough alone."

He spoke in a low, silky tone that made Gerard jump, and he knew he sensed the menace in it.

"The Air Force Academy! That's climbing high for an Indian kid, with a lot of people waiting to step on his fingers."

If he'd thought to intimidate him, he'd failed. Gerard turned toward him with fire sparking in his eyes, his chin up.

"Mr. Iero, I didn't promise Lucas he would be accepted into the Academy. He understands that. His grades were high enough to qualify him for recommendation, but he dropped out of school. He has no chance at all unless he gets back into school and gets the credits he needs. That's what I offered him: a chance."

"And if he doesn't make it?"

"He wants to try. Even if he isn't accepted, at least he'll know he tried, and at least he'll have a diploma."

"So he can do exactly what he would have done without the diploma."

"Perhaps. But I'm going to begin checking into the procedure and qualifications on Monday, and writing to people. The competition to get into the Academy is really fierce."

"The people in town won't like you tutoring him."

"That's what Joe said."

His face took on that prim, obstinate look.

"But I'll have something to say to anyone who kicks up about it. Just let me handle them, Mr. Iero."

They were already down the mountain that had taken him so long to drive up. Frank was silent for the rest of the drive, so Gerard was, too. But when he pulled up to the old house where he was living, he rested his gloved hands on the steering wheel.

"It isn't just Lucas. For your sake, don't let on that you're doing it. It's better for you if no one knows you've ever even spoken to me."

"Why ever not?"


His smile was wintry.

"I'm an ex-con. I did time for rape."

Notes

Hi there chipmunks.. What's up?..

Kisses!!!.. Yum!

Please comment, stay safe, and peace out babies!
<3