Page 2 of Truth or Spare

“I would never say that. We’re always stronger together,” Matteo countered and held up a finger. “That doesn’t mean that we aren’t holding you back. You could have your own business or your own Jonathon, but you aren’t even trying because you’re saving yourself for us.”

“Maybe…” That was probably likely, but Theo didn’t want to speculate on where else he’d be if he hadn’t given his brothers 100% of his time and attention. What was the point?

“Baba,” Matteo said and slipped around the front door before Theo could explain that or question him any further about his plans for the evening.

He had a feeling that Matteo was up to something and might find himself in serious trouble soon. Theo always had a second sense when it came to his brothers and it had always been his job to wait up and wade in whenever one of them needed help.

Despite being the second of four, Theo always considered himself the “big” brother and had taken his responsibilities seriously. Leo was the oldest and fated to hold the title and wear the crown. But it was Theo’s calmer nature and clearer head that had kept the family dynasty intact when there had been questions about Leo’s character and suitability as Margrave of Hessen.

The title had originally belonged to their older cousin, Maximillian, but he had abdicated after a messy public divorce.While Austria did away with its monarchy in 1918, The Foundation of the House of Hessen was established to preserve the legacy of the von Hessen dynasty and oversee its holdings. Theo had been happy to play the role of the perfect margrave-in-waiting in case Leo couldn’t be reined in. Having a charming and charismatic backup had taken the pressure off of Leo and had given him time to grow into his title and learn the diplomatic ropes.

All was well now in Austria and Leo was settling in happily in his fairytale castle at Schönbühel with his beloved Jonathon. Having Theo at home to take care of “the babies” had made it possible for Leo to focus on his studies and his responsibilities as Margrave. Leo had just started his first year at university and Elio was a toddler when their parents had died. Matteo was six. At only sixteen, caring for Matteo and Elio and being Leo’s confidant gave Theo an outlet for his grief and a sense of purpose.

Lately, Matteo didn’t want a wingman and Elio had forbidden his brothers from visiting Cambridge, insisting he could focus better without their meddling. That often left Theo at loose ends and he didn’t know what to do with himself. What was he, if he wasn’t his brothers’ caretaker and their conscience?

The question had haunted Theo as Elio grew more independent and thrived at Cambridge. For Theo, university had simply been a requirement and his younger brothers had followed him to England so he could help them with their homework and take them to lessons and matches around his own studies. Theo had believed it was his duty to hold their family together while Leo served in the Austrian Army and was being groomed to be Margrave.

That was enough before and Theo had been content with his role as his brothers’ “big” brother. Now, he felt like he had miscalculated or had been abandoned, in a way. He hadn’tprepared a backup plan for his own life, once his brothers no longer needed him. And while Theo was glad they were succeeding and happy, he suddenly worried that he was at risk of ending up alone.

“Time for another adventure!” Theo said briskly as he turned from the window, heading for the guest room he had been occupying. But his steps faltered and Theo frowned as he took out his phone.“Where?”

Traveling and solving other people’s problems was how Theo usually avoided dealing with his own grief and the occasional bout of what-if-I’m-worthless-without-my-brothers. He had visited all the wonders and explored the world’s greatest cities. Theo had dug wells and saved farms—by hiring skilled professionals, obviously—and had funded an array of projects around the world. But no amount of tourism or philanthropy had filled the void or helped him find a real, sustaining purpose.

“Fine. I’ll do something different this time.”

Instead of buying a first class ticket to someplace exciting or exotic, Theo decided he’d stay inside the state of New York and skip the luxury amenities. He didn’t want to go too far, in case Matteo still needed rescuing.

A quick search revealed that there were several trains and buses leaving Manhattan. He decided he’d try his luck with a Greyhound and perused the routes heading Upstate and away from the bigger cities. Theo had heard that there were more farms and that rural New York was vastly different from Manhattan. He considered himself a country boy at heart, having spent much of his childhood in the Italian countryside in Umbria, and wondered ifthatwas what his life had been lacking.

“Perhaps some time in the country—without my brothers—is exactly what I need.”

He was self-aware enough to accept that he’d never pass as anything other than a posh, pampered tourist, but at least Theocould leave his brother’s title behind and see whohewas in the real world. Theo had spent so long as a royal-in-reserve and on the edge of the aristocracy, he was rather curious to see what he could make of himself with a fresh start.

“What’s this?” he said when he recognized a name on the map. It was far off to the north, on the Canadian border, and about thirty miles east of Lake Ontario. “I had a smashing time in Norway’s Oslo. Let’s see what New York’s Oslo is like and if I can make it there without my brothers.”

Chapter Two

Abroken ‘open’ sign was not how Dewey wanted to start his Tuesday, but he wasn’t too worried. He’d had his eye on a good used one on Ebay and everyone in Oslo already knew when the bowling alley opened and closed. People would turn up on the same day and time they always did and when Dewey installed the new sign, they’d complain about how they liked the old one better.

That was how it usually went. No one ever noticed or cared until something changed and the new thing was rarely better. Dewey often wondered if he was running a bowling alley or a museum, hamstrung by customers who craved modern conveniences but put a high premium on nostalgia.

Tradition and technology went hand in hand in a bowling alley, which meant that something usually needed repairing. Thankfully, Dewey was handy and could fix damn near anything as long as his actual hands cooperated. The arm on lane 2’s pinsetter was broken again, but Dewey’s arms weren’t bothering him yet and he appeared to be having a good hand day. So far, he’d been able to remove the arm without too much trouble and his hands weren’t shaking around the screwdriver’s handle.

He was also grateful that Tuesdays were slow so he could fiddle with the smaller pieces while he minded the front desk. Dewey’s days were nonstop and draining from Thursday afternoon to Saturday night, so his peaceful Monday and Tuesday mornings were sacred and when Dewey usually caught up with everything that had broken down over the weekend.

His quiet morning was put on hold when the front door opened. Dewey looked up from the junction box he was repairing, entranced as a vision from one of his wet dreams strolled up to the counter. Dewey assumed the man was lost and in need of directions. He was way too handsome and immaculately groomed to be from Oslo.

Thepristinekhaki field coat was another clue, along with a gray cashmere V-neck, and crisp, dark blue jeans. The gorgeous stranger smiled, apparently delighted as he surveyed the bowling alley. Dewey knew plenty of people who’d qualify as tall and strapping, but no one carried themselves like they didn’t have a care in the world and owned the place.

“Can I help you?” Dewey asked with a curious lift of his brows, and the other man’s eyes grew even brighter, his lips curving into a dazzling smile.

He pressed a hand against his chest, bowing elegantly. “Good afternoon. I was passing by and I noticed the ‘help wanted’ sign on the door. It says you have a room as well and I’m in need of a place to stay,” he said in a heavy European accent, gesturing over his shoulder. It sounded German, but Dewey heard a slight British lilt as well. He spoke like a prince and looked like he’d stepped out of a Disney movie, with his dark, wavy hair, rich brown eyes, square chin, and a sharp, stubble-dusted jaw.

Definitely not from Oslo.

A loud laugh burst from Dewey as he imagined tossing the obviously pampered newcomer a wrench or a pair of bowling shoes. “That’s hilarious. What can I do for you, friend?” he saidas he wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, but the other man’s head drew back and he frowned at Dewey.

“I’m…looking for a job and a place to stay…” He turned to the glass doors and the faded sign Dewey had hung up after Bryce left for college. “Is the position no longer available?”

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