Oleander House: Bay City Paranormal Investigations, Book 1

spray of the shower, scrubbing away the sweat and grime of the afternoon’s work and thinking. Wondering how to find out what Bo truly felt without making him withdraw or run away.
    Sam was quiet all through dinner. He knew the others had to notice he wasn’t joining in the chatter and speculation over events at the house, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Ever since the moment that afternoon when he’d looked into Bo’s eyes and seen the depth of his unhappiness, Sam’s world had narrowed down to the need to fix it. He wanted to see that souldeep sorrow replaced by joy. And he wanted to be the one to make that change in Bo.
    A part of him knew without a doubt that it could happen. All he had to do was to make Bo see it.
You’re thinking about breaking up a family here, a little voice whispered in his ear. What gives you the right?
He had no answer for that. All he knew was that Bo had to face the truth inside himself before he could find contentment in his life. Just as Sam had had to face his own truths, all those years ago. Not just his sexual orientation, but the difference he’d always felt inside, the twist in his psyche that kept him perpetually at a distance from other people. It had been much more noticeable in his youth, children being far more sensitive to such things than adults, but it was still there.
Sam had resigned himself ages ago to a life of emotional isolation. He’d grown used to the idea over the years, and it didn’t bother him anymore. Seeing Bo struggle with his own identity brought the memory of those tumultuous years boiling to the surface. He wanted to help, simply because he’d come to care for Bo. If Bo didn’t return his feelings, it would hurt, but he’d cope, just as he always had. But the intuition he relied on told him that he hadn’t misread the situation, and that Bo felt the same. The only thing standing in the way of their mutual happiness was Bo’s fear and his sense of duty to his wife.
A relationship. That’s what he was considering with Bo. He’d never been involved in a real relationship before. Even his family had always kept him at arm’s length, and he’d never been with any single lover for more than an occasional no-strings fuck.
The implications of what he was thinking hit him like a blow to the gut, curdling his insides with a blend of anticipation and paralyzing fear.
Sam pushed his half-eaten spaghetti away, his appetite gone. Bo turned a worried gaze his way. “Sam, you all right? You look pale.”
Sam forced a smile. “I always look pale, it’s my coloring.”
“What Mr. Tactful is trying to say,” David said around a mouthful of garlic bread, “is that you look green. Don’t puke at the table, huh?”
Cecile smacked David’s arm. He gave her a questioning look. She frowned at him, then turned to Sam. “You do look kind of sick, Sam, are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine,” Sam answered, more harshly than he’d intended. “I’m just full, that’s all.”
Cecile blinked and turned back to her plate, clearly taken aback by the way Sam had snapped at her. Sam was instantly contrite, but didn’t say anything. He felt distinctly uncomfortable under the weight of wellmeaning concern from the rest of the group.
Bo cleared his throat. “Andre, did you and David get done watching the video from last night?”
Andre glanced at Sam before answering. Sam gave him what he hoped was a reassuring smile. He breathed a sigh of relief when Andre smiled back and turned his attention to Bo.
“Yeah, we’re done,” Andre said. “Nothing on ’em. There hasn’t been anything in the nursery since the first night.”
“Maybe we ought to stop taping in there.” David twirled spaghetti around his fork. “Save the tapes for other stuff.”
“I think David’s right,” Amy chimed in. “The events this week haven’t been confined to any one place, and they haven’t occurred in any predictable pattern. We’re wasting time and resources by taping the nursery every night when we’re not getting anything there.”
“We could alternate rooms,” Andre suggested. He picked a cherry tomato out of his salad, popped it into his mouth and chewed. “You know, tape a different one every night.”
Ideas followed thick and fast, voices overlapping as everyone brainstormed what to do. Everyone, Sam noticed, except Bo and himself. They stared at each other across the table. The conversation faded to static as Sam gazed into Bo’s eyes. He