Obsession (Southern Comfort) by Lisa Clark O'Neill

hadn’t given any indication to the contrary, but Justin realized that he’d been watching her over the past several months, at least, for any indication that things were getting serious with Anthony.  He’d lived in a minor state of terror that she’d show up to meet him one day wearing a ring.  It was why he hadn’t paid enough attention to his own relationship, how he’d let Mandy – whom he’d dated extremely casually off and on over the past couple years – slip beneath his radar and almost move into his house.
    What the hell was wrong with him?
    Well, that particular mess was no more than he deserved for being too much of a coward to go after what he really wanted.
    And what he really wanted was Kathleen.
    Justin shot a glance toward Anthony, but the other man had already climbed into his vehicle and driven off.  Clearly not the type to hesitate.
    Disgusted with himself yet again, Justin resumed walking.  At least he’d sent that text.  It was minor, but it was a start.  Weren’t there about a billion cheesy quotations about that being the most difficult part?  Taking the first step?
    Man , he was embarrassed by his own thoughts.  And James told him he was mooning before.  Thank God he wasn’t privy to this quasi-motivational pity fest taking place in Justin’s head.
    Grasping the back door knob, Justin tried to turn it before remembering that it was locked. Taking out his key, he let himself into the kitchen, the smell of freshly brewed coffee greeting him.  His brother really did have his uses.
    Heading toward the pot, Justin noticed that a mug had already been poured, steam curling from the top.  He glanced around for some sign of James, heard nothing, then decided to take a sip.  His brother put enough sugar in his own coffee to power an entire platoon of preschoolers, so Justin would know right away whether he’d already doctored this one. 
    No sugar.  Just the way he liked it.
    Commandeering the mug for his own, Justin headed toward the back of the house and the shower.  When he passed the guest room door, he rapped it with the knuckles of his free hand.
    “I stole your coffee,” he called through the paneled wood.  “You’ll have to pour yourself another cup.”
    “What?” came the mumble from the other side.
    “I liberated your coffee before it could be sweetened to death,” Justin repeated.  Since the door wasn’t fully shut, he poked his head through the opening.  “You snooze, you – ”
    He stopped midsentence.  James leaned up on one elbow, the sheets pooling around his bare chest, blinking the sleep from his eyes as he stared at Justin.
    “What, you made coffee and then went back to sleep?”  That made no sense.  The coffee was still steaming.
    “What’re you talking about?” James mumbled, stifling a yawn.
    “The coffee.”  Justin offered his mug as evidence.  “Did you wake up just to make a pot for me?”
    “Why would I do that?  Although now that I’m awake, that coffee smells damn good.  Is there any left?”
    Justin stood there, mug in hand, the sweat slicking his skin suddenly feeling icy.  “You just made a pot,” he reminded his brother, wondering what the hell was wrong.  Sleep-walking?  Narcolepsy?  He hadn’t noticed any signs before now.  Brewing a pot of coffee was a little outside the normal realm of the automatic behavior associated with the condition, but not impossible. “Are you feeling okay?”
    “I’m fine.”  James looked a little more alert now.  “But I didn ’t make a pot of coffee.”
    “There’s a fresh pot on the counter.  And this mug was poured.” Justin held it aloft again and let his eyes roam over his brother.  His pupils looked normal, but Justin should probably go get his penlight and do a more thorough check.  “There are some medical conditions that – ”
    “Whoa, whoa.”  James held up a hand before running it over his eyes.  “I don’t have a medical condition.  I did not make