“Then get out of here.” She sat up and handed Colleen another slab of chicken. “Take this for the road.”

* * *

IT TOOK ALL the courage she had to knock on Lucas’s door. Still, her hands were shaking. Legs, too. Throw heart on the list as well, because it was beating so fast it felt like a hummingbird’s wings, and Colleen wasn’t 100 percent sure she wasn’t about to faint.

The door opened. It wasn’t Lucas. It was Mercedes. “Hey, Colleen!” she said. “How’s it going?”

“Hi,” she said. “Is your uncle here?”

“Yeah. Hang on. Uncle Lucas!” she bellowed, making Colleen jump. “Your girlfriend is here!” She turned back to Colleen. “Sorry, but you guys are totally obvious.”

“Oh.”

Mercedes gave her a strange look—Weren’t you good at conversation once?—and then left, and there he was, filling the doorway with scalding vats of testosterone.

“Got a minute?” she whispered.

“No.”

“Please, Lucas.”

It actually felt like his eyes were burning her. He turned, said something to Stephanie, and stepped into the hall.

“Can we go somewhere more private?” she asked.

“No.”

Not a great start. Then again, he had reason to be furious.

He stood with his arms folded, looking at her, his face blank.

Colleen took a deep breath. “Okay, well, this is very awkward.” She started to gnaw on her thumbnail, then put her hand down. “Um...so yes, I did sleep with Bryce once. It didn’t mean anything.”

“It means something to me.”

“Right.” She took a shaky breath. “It was a long time ago, Lucas.”

“Does that excuse it?”

“No. I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m so sorry, Lucas. I wish to God I hadn’t done it, we both do, Bryce and I, and it really meant—”

“There are plenty of men to sleep with in this town, Colleen. From what you’ve told me, you know that very well.”

Her head jerked back. “Ouch.”

“I’m not judging you.”

“Really? Feels that way. I feel quite judged.”

“But my cousin.” His voice was like acid.

“Well, it wasn’t just your cousin, I mean, it wasn’t because he was your cousin, but also, yeah, he wasn’t the only one that I, uh...” Great. Here came the Tourette’s of Terror again. “What I mean is, he wasn’t—”

“I don’t want to hear about all the men you’ve slept with, Colleen!” he barked. Someone in the apartment across the hall muted the TV. Couldn’t blame them.

She twisted her hands together. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I really am, Lucas. But don’t forget you were married at the time. Married! It’s not like I cheated on you.”

“This entire summer, you haven’t said a word. You knew this would matter to me. You had to know, but instead, you let me make an idiot of myself.”

She stopped and swallowed against the sharp knot in her throat. “How does being with me make you an idiot?”

“I think that’s been answered tonight. At the wake. In the funeral home. In front of the minister. And my former in-laws.”

She went to bite her nail again, then clenched her hands. “I’m truly sorry, Lucas. I’m not perfect.”

“No, that’s not on my list of adjectives for you right now.”

“Okay, stop being mean! It was wrong, I know that, believe me. But I was just trying to find someone after you got married.”

“You broke up with me, Colleen. Remember? It was get married or get lost, your way or the highway.”

“Don’t you quote Road House to me. I’ve seen every Patrick Swayze movie ever made.”

He gave her a look that glittered with fury. “That’s your problem, Colleen. You can’t take anything seriously. Not us, not Bryce, nothing.”

“I’m sorry! I’m nervous! I’m taking this very seriously!”

“You slept with my cousin. You’re the only one who knew what Bryce did to me.”

“You mean, how he saved your life?”

“Everything I had, he wanted, and God forbid Bryce had to go without anything. Even you.”

“I’m not an ice cream cone, Lucas. It’s not the same.”

“He took away my last chance to see my father, Colleen! And my God, he slept with you!”

“Okay, okay, let’s just...let’s just settle down. What about what you said the other night? About us? That matters, too, doesn’t it?” She bit her thumbnail, the small sharp pain the only thing feeling real right now.

Lucas almost smiled. Not in a good way. “You mean, how I said you were the only thing that was really mine?”

“I meant—”

“Because I guess I was wrong about that, wasn’t I?”

“Right. I’m a slut.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

He didn’t answer, but his eyes weren’t exactly brimming with forgiveness, either, and Colleen felt the last of her hope leak out of her. Paulie was right. Hope sucked.

“Well, you have a great time being holy and perfect, Lucas. Good luck with that.”

His eyes were flat.

“That was sarcasm. You’re not perfect, you know. You never told me you loved me. Ever.”

“Good thing, too, isn’t it?”

Her heart, which had taken so damn long to heal over, split right in half again. Without another word, she turned and left before she started sobbing.

She knew he’d ruin her all over again. And she’d been right.

CHAPTER THIRTY

“DUDE, YOU’RE NOT mad, are you?” Bryce asked for what had to be the thirtieth time.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Lucas said through gritted teeth, willing his hands not to curl into fists. Didi smirked.

They were in the limo en route to the church for Joe’s funeral.

“Because you know...it was just sex.”

“Shut up.”

“And Colleen, you know how she is. She kinda gets around.”

“Do you want me to beat you up, Bryce?” he growled. “On the day of your father’s funeral? Because if you say another word, I will.” He paused. “And don’t say that about her.”

Bryce slumped back against the seat of the limo. “Sorry.”

“She is something of a tramp,” Didi said.

“Didi, shut up, or you can walk the rest of the way to church. I’m the one paying for this funeral, after all.”

At the mention of money, Didi’s eyes narrowed. “Really, Lucas. No need to be rude.”

He didn’t bother answering.

“Mom, you should stick around,” Bryce said. “You really going to Wisconsin tomorrow?”

“Bryce, sweetie, you know how I am. I’d rather do my grieving privately. And I had vacation time to use up.”

Lucas suspected she was already on the prowl for a new husband. Play the widow card ASAP. She wouldn’t be around for the reading of Joe’s will, either. Bryce was still unaware of how much he’d inherit, and that Lucas would be trustee.

Lucas wouldn’t need to stick around, either. The will was straightforward, with only a sealed letter from Joe addressed to Bryce.

There was no letter for him.

They pulled up to the church. Bryce and Lucas were both pallbearers, along with four of Joe’s friends, two from college, two from Manningsport. They slid the casket from the back of the hearse and lifted it, carrying it slowly into the cool stone church.

This was the last thing he’d do for Joe. He was leaving after the funeral, and honestly, he’d be glad to get away.

The church was packed. There were Steph and the girls, all of them weepy. Faith and Levi, Tom and Honor. Gerard and the pretty woman from the bakery. Everett and Emmaline, the Manningsport cops, and the mayor. The woman who lived on his floor and watched Game of Thrones all the time. Jeremy Lyon, who’d been Joe’s primary doctor, and Jeremy’s boyfriend, whom Lucas had met one night at O’Rourke’s. Paulie Petrosinsky, wearing a long black sweater that dangled almost to the floor, stood in the back, as the church was packed. She gave him a sad smile, and he nodded in return.

Everyone had loved Smiling Joe.

And there was Colleen, sitting with her family—her mother, Connor and her little sister.

He looked away.

They set the casket down, and the minister began. Mercedes did a reading, from the Bible, and Stephanie read a sad poem by Robert Frost.

Then it came time for the eulogy. Bryce stood up, took his notes from his pocket with shaking hands and went onto the altar.

He cleared his throat. Took a deep breath. “My dad...my dad...my dad was...”

And then Bryce was crying so hard he bent over. He tried to get control of himself, failed, and just clung to the podium, sobbing.

Any anger Lucas had toward him—over Colleen, over Bryce’s easy, shallow life, over the love that was so endlessly showered on him and that seemed so taken for granted—evaporated.

Bryce was just a big kid. A big, sweet, dopey kid who wasn’t sure how to be an adult.

Lucas got up and went to his cousin. “Hey, buddy,” he said softly, putting his arm around Bryce’s shoulders and pulling him away a few steps. “Hey. You can do this.”

“No, I can’t,” Bryce sobbed.

Lucas pulled him into a full hug. “Sure, you can. You need to. For your dad, and for yourself.”

Bryce wiped his eyes on the heels of his hands. “Will you do it for me?” he asked. “Read what I wrote?”

“No. This is yours. You can do it.”

Bryce looked at him with his blue eyes, so like Joe’s, swallowed and nodded.

Then Lucas squeezed his shoulders and sat down again, stepping over Didi without looking at her.

Bryce took a shuddering breath. “Man, this is hard,” he said, and a sympathetic laugh rose from the congregation. “My dad was...well, he wasn’t perfect,” Bryce said. “He made mistakes. He was kind of lazy. But he loved me. He loved his family, and he loved the White Sox.” This got a few laughs. “He always wanted what was best for me. I can’t remember a single time my dad was mad at me, or yelled at me. Maybe he should have. I mean, I got away with murder.”

Another laugh, and Lucas felt himself smile a little, too.

“My dad just didn’t have it in him, though. He was never impatient, and he always seemed to be smiling. He was smart, too, a lot smarter than he let on. He probably could’ve done more with his life, but he was content with what he had.”

Steph leaned forward. “Sounds like Dad,” she whispered.

Lucas had been thinking the same thing.

“The best thing about my father, though,” Bryce continued, “was that he always saw the best in people. He wasn’t fooled by what was on the outside. He knew who the good guys were.” There was a long pause. Bryce was no longer crying, though...he was looking toward the back of the church. Staring.

Then he looked back at his notes. “I have a lot to do if I want to be even half the guy he was,” he said. “But I’m gonna try.” He looked to the ceiling. “Thanks, Dad.” His voice broke again. “I’m gonna miss you for the rest of my life.”

Then Bryce left the altar and walked past the first pew and kept going until he reached the back of the church. He went straight to Paulie, whispered something, and took her hand and kissed it.

“Let us pray,” said the minister.

* * *

THE RECEPTION WAS held at O’Rourke’s, as Joe had requested. There was a sign on the door: Closed for Private Function. Colleen’s cousins were manning the bar, but she was there, making sure things got done, giving directions, bustling in and out of the kitchen. She looked different, her hair pulled up into a sleek twist, a high-necked, sleeveless black dress.

She wasn’t smiling. More than anything, that was the difference.

He tried not to look at her. Visions of her kissing Bryce, pulling off Bryce’s shirt, underneath Bryce—no. He couldn’t go there. Not now. Last night, he hadn’t slept a minute, tormented by those same thoughts, but today was about Joe.

Drinks were flowing, toasts were made, food was served. Someone put the jukebox on, and it became festive as people told stories about Joe.

His uncle would’ve loved this.

Bryce looked happier, too. Lucas checked in on him from time to time, told him the eulogy was perfect. He had an arm around Paulie, who was attractively flushed. “Good to see you, Paulie,” Lucas said as Bryce listened to one of the college friends telling him about a prank Joe had pulled.

“Good to be seen,” she answered.

“Thanks for giving him a second chance.”

“It’s more like a fourteenth chance, but I think he could be worth it this time.”

Lucas smiled. “I hope you’re right. You deserve a great guy.”

“Are you hitting on me?”

“I don’t think I’m that smart.”

“Yeah,” she said, gesturing with her Genesee to Colleen, who was hefting a crate of glasses. “What are you gonna do about that?”

“I don’t know.” He felt his blood pressure rising.

“All I can say is,” Paulie continued, “she’s been a good friend. And in her own special way, she’s a ball of insecurities, Lucas, but so aren’t we all, right?”