Mia swirled the melting ice round and round in her own glass, then pressed the coldness to the side of her neck. Collin's belly reacted to the feminine sight. Mia, with her nice family, her chatterbox ways and her honest concern for people was putting holes in his arguments against social workers. Except for the title and the business suits, she didn't fit the stereotype. Adam hadn't helped any with his innuendoes.

"You won Gabe over when your phone played 'Boomer Sooner.'" A soft smile lifted her pretty mouth, setting a single tiny dimple into relief. He'd never noticed that dimple before.

"I saw the Oklahoma Sooner tag on a couple of cars out there." He didn't bother to say Adam had grilled him about his intentions. No point in embarrassing Mia about a simple misunderstanding. Adam was a good guy. He'd meant well. Even if he was badly misguided.

"We all attended OU. Adam played a little baseball, so we're pretty hard-core Sooner fans. Gabe even has season tickets to the football games."

Collin had never made it to college. "I'm a big football fan myself." Which had made conversation with the Caranos a little easier.

"But not of the Dallas Cowboys. Nic is a little miffed about that, though he thinks he can convert you."

"Want me to lie to him since it's his birthday?"

She punched his arm. "Silly."

"Bully." He rubbed the spot just over his shamrock. A lot of people had asked him about the tattoo before and he'd told them nothing. But Mia was different. She had a way of slipping under his guard, catching him unawares, and the next thing he knew he was telling her way too much.

"I never liked tattoos before. But I like yours," she said as if reading his mind. "When did you have it done?"

"When I was seventeen." He wasn't about to tell her the shape he'd been in when he'd gone to the tattoo parlor.

"Isn't it illegal to get one at that age?"

"I wasn't a cop then."

He'd made the remark to encourage a smile. She didn't disappoint him.

"Well, even if it was illegal, you were very insightful to choose a tattoo that represents so much."

"Yeah. Real insightful." To him the tattoo represented a man, a cop at that, who couldn't find the brothers he'd promised to look after. It represented years of failure. He made a wry face. "I chose a shamrock because I needed space for three words and I like the color green."

Undaunted by his dry tone, she studied the figure. "Three leaves, three brothers. Your names are Irish. And green means everlasting, like the evergreen trees. Everlasting devotion."

He blinked down at the tattoo. Then at her.

She came to his shoulders and he could see the top of her hair. In the bright sunlight, the soft waves gleamed more red than brown. He defeated the sudden and unusual urge to touch her hair.

The tattoo had come about on what would have been Ian's twelfth birthday. Collin had been fighting a terrible depression, and the tattoo seemed like a grown-up, proactive thing to do at the time. Now he looked back on the day with a sense of chagrin and failure.

That had been a tough time for him. His days of being cared for in the foster system had been coming to an end, and he was scared out of his mind. He had no place to go, no training, no family, no money. Only a dim memory of two brothers to cling to and the fish keychain that somehow bound the three of them together. Then as now, every time he smoothed his fingers over the darkening metal, he felt closer to Drew and Ian.

"I can't say I was all that deep and symbolic about a tattoo, Mia. I think I was just hoping for a little good luck." He'd needed all the help he could get in the days following his eighteenth birthday.

"Did it work?"

She tilted her head back against the white siding and stared out at the pool where Mitch splashed with Gabe's ten-year-old son. Abby, Gabe's wife, watched from a lawn chair.

"Nah. Mostly, I think we make our own luck. What about you? Got a rabbit's foot in your purse?"

She smiled, but her eyes remained serious.

"I don't put much stock in luck, either. God, on the other hand, is a different matter. I truly believe He, not luck or coincidence, controls my destiny."

"Like a robot?"

She laughed and shook her head. The reddish waves danced back from her pretty face. "Not like that. People have free will. But if we let Him, God will guide our lives and work everything out for our good."

"You really think that?"

"Yes. I really do."

Well, he didn't. He thought you had to claw and fight and struggle uphill, hoping like mad that some crumb of good would fall in your lap.

"I always figured God was out there somewhere, but He was probably too busy to bother with one person."

"God's not like that, Collin. He's very personal. He cares about the smallest, simplest things in our lives."

"If that's so, why is there so much trouble in the world? Why do kids go hungry and parents mistreat and abandon them?" And why couldn't he find his brothers?

The seed of bitterness he tried to hide rose up like a sickness in his throat.

Mia placed a hand on his arm, a gentle, reassuring touch much like the ones he'd seen Rosalie give to Mitchell. He wanted her to stop. "I hear what you're not saying."

Of course she would. She dealt with people in his shoes all the time. She was trained to read behind the mask, a scary prospect if ever there was one. He didn't want anybody messing around inside his mind.

While his insides churned and he wondered what he was doing here, Collin tossed the remaining ice cubes onto a small bush growing beside the house. When the movement dislodged Mia's hand from his arm, he suffered a pang of loss. Talk about messed up. One minute he wanted her to stop touching him, and the next he was disappointed because she did.

"God can help you find your brothers," she said. "Or at least find out what happened to them."

He kept quiet. Mia had a right to her faith even if he had never witnessed anything much from God.

He rolled the empty glass back and forth between his palms. "Like I said, I don't know much about religion."

"That's okay. Faith's not about religion anyway."

She was losing him again.

"Faith is about having a relationship with the most perfect friend you could ever have. Jesus is a friend who promises to stick closer than a brother."

"Closer than a brother," he murmured softly. And then for some reason, he slid a hand into his pocket, found the tiny fish. The metal was warm from his body heat. "For me that wouldn't be too close."

"Then why can't you stop looking for them? And why is your arm tattooed with their names?"

She had a point there. "I guess I'm trying to keep them close even though they're lost." He pulled the tiny ichthus from his pocket. "See this?"

Her expressive face couldn't hide her surprise. "A Jesus fish?"

"I suppose you want to know why I carry it if I'm not a believer?"

"Yes."

He started to tease and say he carried the fish for luck. But that wasn't true. His feelings were deeper than that though he wasn't sure he had the words to express them.

"The day my brothers and I were separated the school counselor gave us each one of these." He turned the fish over. The bright sunlight caught the faded engraving, Jesus will never leave you nor forsake you. He'd thought of that scripture often and hoped it was true. He hoped there was somebody in this world looking after Ian and Drew.

"I wonder if they still have theirs," she murmured quietly.

"Why would they keep a cheap little keychain?" But he hoped they had.

"You kept yours."

He rubbed a finger over the darkened engraving as he'd done dozens of times. This was his link, his connection to Drew and Ian. That link, religion aside, gave him comfort. And if he'd tried to pray a few times as a boy, asking the distant God for help, well, he'd been a kid who just didn't understand the facts of life.

He wished that God could do something about his lost brothers, but he didn't know how to believe in anything but himself. His own strength and determination had gotten him where he was today. He knew better than to rely on anyone or anything else.

Before he could say more, Nic came sprinting around from the opposite side of the house, an orange plastic water pistol in one hand.

Gabe was right behind him, squirting his own water pistol like mad.

"You're gonna pay, birthday boy," he roared. And from the looks of Gabe's soaked shirtfront, Nic had started the trouble.

With a wild hyena laugh, Nic turned and fired, squirting Gabe as well as the two innocent bystanders. Mia jumped aside with a squeal of laughter.

Oddly disappointed to have his strange conversation with Mia interrupted, Collin brushed a water droplet from his arm.

"And you said your family was functional."

They both laughed as Adam came running past, wearing the Groucho glasses and carrying two squirt guns with another stuck in his shirt pocket.

"Defend yourself," he yelled and tossed a purple plastic pistol in their general direction.

With quick reflexes, Collin caught the squirt gun. As soon as the toy hit his hand, a sudden flashback hit Collin square in the heart.

Drew and Ian armed with water guns they'd gotten somewhere chased him around the trailer. He'd hidden under the house, behind the dangling insulation, and unloaded on them when they'd discovered his whereabouts.

They had all squirted and yelled and chased until the night grew too dark to see each other. As they often did, they'd spent that night without adults, but for once they'd gone to bed smiling.

"Collin?" Mia said, touching the hand that held the water pistol. "What's wrong?"

Even the good memories hurt. All those years he'd missed. All the good times he and his brothers had deserved to have. Though he recognized the irrationality of his emotions, he envied the Caranos. They had what he wanted and would never have. The missing years could not ever be recaptured.

"I gotta go." He handed her the squirt gun and abruptly strode to the pool. "Time to roll, Mitchell."

He felt Mia's gaze on his back.

Mitchell was instantly protesting. "I don't wanna leave yet."

"Sorry. I have to work tomorrow." He did have to work. On his house.

Water sluicing off his hair and shoulders, body language screaming in protest, Mitchell pulled himself slowly out of the pool. He grumbled, "It's not fair."

"Yeah, well, life isn't fair, kid. Get used to it."

Mitch stopped and tilted his head back to look into Collin's face. "Are you mad at me?"

Collin relented the slightest bit. The kid had behaved himself today. No use making Mitch pay for his lousy mood. He hooked an elbow around the boy's wet head.

"I'm not mad."

Trailed by an unusually quiet Mia, they went into the house to bid a civil goodbye to all the Carano clan. Mitchell dragged through the house like a man condemned, gathered his clothes and shoes for departure. Rosalie bustled into the kitchen and came back with two foil-wrapped plates.

"Leftovers. You two could use a little meat on your bones."

A funny lump formed inside Collin's chest. Was this what a mother did? Just like on television? Did normal mothers fret over the children and make huge family dinners and nag everyone to eat more?

"Take them, Collin," Mia murmured. "Make her happy." She'd protested their departure with all the usual niceties, but his mind was made up. He couldn't be here among this family any longer. It was killing him.

"I hope you'll come back soon, Collin," Rosalie was saying. "And bring this boy." She patted Mitchell's head. "You come anytime you want to, Mitchell. A friend of Mia's is our friend, too."

Finally, when he could bear no more of their kindness, he worked his way out to the sidewalk.

Mia stood in the doorway. She looked uncertain, worried. "Thank you for coming, Collin."

"Our pleasure, huh, Mitch?"

"Yeah." Mitch's bottom lip was dragging the ground. He looped a towel around his neck and sawed the rough terry cloth back and forth.

Collin didn't want to answer the questions in Mia's eyes, so he turned and started toward his truck. The door behind him didn't close for several more seconds.

He'd gotten himself into this mess with Mia. He'd known from the beginning that a social worker only brought trouble. Now he was knee-deep in this big-brother thing with Mitch and stuck with the constant reminders of everything he and his brothers had missed out on. He knew that sounded selfish and envious. Maybe he was.

Long ago, he'd made peace with who he was as well as who he wasn't. He'd made a decent life for himself and, except for his fruitless search for Drew and Ian, he was happy most of the time.

There was an old adage that said you don't miss what you've never had. He'd always thought it was a lie. Today confirmed his suspicion.

He wished he'd never come here.

Halfway down the sidewalk, Mitch asked, "Can I have Miss Carano bring me out to your house tomorrow afternoon?"

"Miss Carano goes to church. She's not your personal chauffeur."

"I can walk then. No big deal."

"Five miles?"

"I could borrow a bike."

When Collin didn't answer, Mitchell said, "I guess you don't want me to. That's cool. It's okay. I got plenty of stuff to do."