"Please, Dad," he said in a very adult way.

"Pease!" Emma said, clapping.

"And maybe a short beer," Mel added. "Just a little less than half. Then I'll go home and feed the kids."

"We have some mac and cheese ready to roll," Jack offered. Then he looked at Denny and said, "Denny, this is my wife, Mel--she doesn't cook. And Mel, this young man is just back from Afghanistan. Denny Cutler."

"How do you do?" she said. "Welcome home. Marine?"

"Yes, ma'am. How'd you know?"

"I don't know," she said. "Jack's like a marine magnet. They all end up here eventually."

"I can see why," Denny said, lifting his beer. He looked at Jack and said, "Somehow I didn't really see you with a young family."

"No one did, pal, including me. I was forty when I met Mel, and I was nowhere near interested in marriage and children, but she trapped me."

She laughed at him. "This is utterly untrue," she said. "I was running for my life."

"All right, then, I trapped her. Whatever, it ended up working out just fine."

"So, Denny," Mel said, "did you just move here?"

"Sort of," he said. "I came to look the place over on the recommendation of a friend and I like it. But there's one problem--I was recently discharged. I need a job. Any line on a job around here?"

"That's a tough one," Jack said. "With the economy the way it is, jobs are tight. Lots of unemployment."

"It doesn't have to be that much of a job. I'm not married--no girl waiting for a ring or anything. I'm still thinking about school. But I could rent a room and hang out for a few months. I saved a little per diem to see me through."

"A few months?" Jack asked.

"If I decide to get more permanent than that, I'll look around for an apartment or duplex or something. For right now if some little old lady would give me a spare bedroom..."

"We could give you a bed," Jack said. "We have a guesthouse or casita or whatever you call it--it's for my dad when he visits, but there's also an extra room for him in the house if he shows up unexpectedly. I mean, if it's not long-term." Jack shrugged. "And you're a marine."

"Wow. That's almost too good to be true."

"I'll give you some directions," he said, pulling out a napkin and writing on it for him.

Late that night, when Mel and Jack were in bed and the children asleep, she said, "Don't we usually talk about things like this?"

"Mel, his mother died, he found out his father wasn't his father, he went to war... He's a marine. We can do this for him--it doesn't cost us anything."

"What if that's not all totally true? What if he's never been a marine? What if his mother is alive and well? What if... Jack, remember Annalee?" she asked, recalling a beautiful con artist who had gotten the best of Jack not long ago. No harm was done--she wasn't after Jack, but someone else. Just the same, Jack was reeled into her con too easily. Jack loved everyone. "What if he's a serial killer or something?"

Jack just shrugged. "We lock the doors to the house, watch him for a while, and if he's a serial killer..." He chuckled low in his throat. His shoulder and arm muscles automatically flexed. "He picked the wrong guesthouse!"

She sighed and settled against him. It had been a long time since Jack had been in a war zone, a long time since he sat alert or on surveillance, but some things never went away. Jack would wake at the flutter of a feather, his reflexes were as sharp as ever and he was strong.

"Right," she said, snuggling up. "But next time can we talk about it first?"

"Sure, babe," he said, his arms going around her. "Try to relax. I like him, he's a nice kid."

After two days at home, Lilly returned to work at the feed store. For the first time in her life she took a very firm hand with her grandfather. "I'm not ready to talk about Clay, so leave me alone about that. And I think it would be best if you asked Manny to deliver feed to the Jensen clinic next week. I'm pretty sure I'm not going to be ready to do that."

Instead of riding after work, she returned to yoga in search of peace, calm and serenity. After yoga, she went to the Loving Cup, where Dane offered as much loving as he could. She'd told him all the grim details over the phone and, to her embarrassment, she'd cried on his shoulder a bit more than her pride easily bore.

There were just a few people in the coffeehouse, clear on the other side of the room, when she took her usual seat at the counter.

"Well," Dane said, smiling. "You're looking pretty good. Better than I expected."

"Don't lie," she scolded. "I've learned that falling asleep with a bag of frozen peas on your eyes can be a partial remedy, but you have to be absolutely sure you're done with the crying or your eyelids will stick to the plastic."

"Eww."

"How long do you think this will go on? This obscene, ridiculous, humiliating crying?"

Dane just looked down. When he raised his eyes, they were troubled. "Lilly, have you thought about sitting down with the man, hearing him out to either work it out or officially break it off? Before you invest any more money in frozen peas? I mean, he's begging!"

"He lied to me, Dane...."

Dane shrugged. "Sounds like he didn't tell you a few things, but that doesn't mean he intended to keep it from you forever. You two are pretty new, after all."

She shook her head. "He should have come clean before his wife informed me. Before I caught him pledging his forever love to her!"

"From what you told me, apparently he didn't quite end it with the ex after the divorce was final. Is that a crime? He hadn't even met you yet. And from what we think we know, he hasn't been with her since moving here." Dane leaned on the counter. "I think that happens more often than we realize. My sister? She had a rotten marriage, the worst husband you can imagine, but after they split up she hooked up with him a couple of times before we finally came up here and opened the shop. Just sometimes old habits die hard...."

"Really?" Lilly said. "And how do we know when they're finally dead?"

"I think that's the point in talking it out, or fighting it out, or whatever it turns out to be."

"I can't do that," she said in a strained whisper. "Don't you get it? I can't go through that again!"

"He didn't cheat on you!" Dane said hotly. "Before he knew you, before he was involved with you, he was with another woman! That's not a crime!"

"But he lied to me! Just like the guy before him lied to me!"

"This has to stop!" Dane said. Lilly looked at him, stunned. "How long do you plan to keep that tired old heartache alive? You were a little girl! You're a woman now. Grow up!"

She stared at him in wonder, shaking her head. "You can't really be saying this to me...."

"I love you, Lilly. Listen to me for once--you're not the first person to have a broken heart. You're allowed to feel sorry for yourself for a little while, but you've licked that old wound so long it's festered! For God's sake, no wonder you can't deal with Clay, can't let yourself face the truth. That would take strength and courage--and you're more comfortable acting like a whipped little victim!"

She withdrew from him, leaning back. She shook her head because she was speechless.

"A victim with enough self-pity to sink a ship," he went on. "You have to get over yourself, little sister. If you need help to do that, get it. If you keep this up, not only will you lose Clay before you even know if he deserves to be kicked to the curb, you will never allow yourself to find a good man! If you die old and all alone, it will be no one's fault but your own."

She was silent for a moment. Her eyes grew liquid and a tear slipped down her cheek. "How dare you!"

He leaned toward her. "I dare because I'm your best friend and I love you. It's time, Lilly. If you're ever going to be in a grown-up relationship, you're going to have to ditch the little girl self-pity, straighten up and face your situation like an adult. I'd like to tell you that once you find The One you'll never have problems, never face complications, never have to deal with a guy's fuck-ups. Oh, hell, no one can get through a serious relationship without contributing their own mistakes to the mess. It's never going to be easy, Lilly! People are flawed! Imperfect! They make mistakes! You have to be strong enough to face them, know when things can be worked out and when they can't."

Another tear ran down the other cheek; she felt the hair on the back of her neck prickle as if there was danger. Not knowing what to say, what to do, she grabbed her purse and whirled off the stool, heading for the door.

"Go ahead," Dane yelled after her. "Run away! It's the only thing you're brave enough to do!"

Out the door she went.

Dane leaned on the counter, looking down, almost trembling. He'd taken a huge chance...and might have lost his best friend forever. It took him a minute to regain his composure and straighten. When he did, he found the eyes of four patrons staring at him from across the room. He ran a hand nervously through his blond hair. "Sorry," he said. "Lover's quarrel."

Luke Riordan grabbed the phone on the second ring; baby Brett was sleeping and Luke wasn't in the mood to go another round of trying to get him down.

"Hey," Patrick said.

"Hey," Luke returned. "What's up?"

"Well, I got a couple of days in with Colin, but that's all. He invited me to leave. So...I'm in the inn suites up the road from Fort Benning."

"He's not in the best mood," Luke said. "I get that. His body hurts, rehab is killing him. He had a lot of company--Mom was there for two weeks...."

"I think we might have other issues, Luke. He's popping pain pills like they're M&M's."

"Well, they're prescription, right?" Luke asked.

"I took him to physical therapy a couple of days ago, then to the clinic. The doctor told him it was time to wean off the good stuff and go with some anti-inflammatory and ice, but I don't see that happening. He's still on the strong stuff."

"Is he still in a lot of pain?" Luke asked.

"His leg aches because he's putting some weight on it now, but he's making good progress, according to the PTs. It's been a month. His elbow is killing him and the PT says that's a tough one to rehab, real painful. Luke, he's not using anti-inflammatory and ice. When I got on him about the drugs, he threw me out."

"Let me think," Luke said. Colin had been in the hospital at Fort Hood, where the accident had taken place, for ten days. He went back to Fort Benning to the Wounded Warriors Support Center, a convalescence center, for about a week and then he was cleared to go home--a small, comfortable house near Fort Benning. Their mother was there to help him get to physical therapy and clinic appointments; there were guys from his unit to chauffeur him, but he could also drive the short distance on his own, though it was recommended he get a ride as long as he was on heavy pain medication. He'd been home about a week when Patrick got back from his Gulf mission and had gone straight to Colin. "It's been a month since the accident," Luke said. "That doesn't seem like much for what happened to him."

"Maybe not," Patrick said. "But I'm a little freaked out by this--I heard the doc tell him it was time to get off the narcs and I heard Colin agree. But that's not what's happening. He glazes right over about five minutes after popping a pill, and, man, all is right with his world. But just suggest he might be taking too many pain pills and look out! He can't hardly move in PT, but if you piss him off, he can throw all your shit on the lawn without any trouble."

"He didn't do that," Luke said.

"He did."

"Aw, fuck. How long does it take to get totally hooked on pain pills?"

"Apparently about a month," Patrick said.

"Okay, let me think," Luke said again. But thinking wasn't as easy this time. What were the options? They could go to his commander and report the situation and the Army would say, Oh, really? Buh-bye! The deal is--turn yourself in for an addiction problem and get help, get caught on drugs you're not prescribed to take, and there is no help for your sorry soul. Was there wiggle room if you got banged up and hooked on drugs compliments of the Army?

"I could come out," he said to Patrick. "But he hates me."

"He doesn't exactly hate you," Paddy said. "But he doesn't want advice from you."

"It has to be Aiden," Luke said.

"Or Sean," Paddy said. "But I swear to God, he's taking too many pain pills. This isn't like Colin. Colin likes pain...sort of. He's always pushed himself real hard. He's been hurt before and he never tossed back a bunch of pills. This isn't good."

"But these injuries were bad, Paddy. You should've seen him. He was a mess--unconscious and hallucinating and... Maybe he's not acting that abnormally. Let's call Aiden. And while we're at it, Sean. You know how to do a conference call?"

"Yeah," Patrick said. "Yeah, I can do that."

A half hour later Aiden had agreed to go to Colin's house near Fort Benning. "I don't know that I'll be able to do much good," he said. "The last thing he seems to want right now is his brothers. I'll check him out and try to be circumspect. I'll try not to piss him off. But I guaran-damn-tee you he isn't throwing my luggage out the door."