"But what? I think you owe me complete sentences, at least, after all these f.u.c.king years."

"If I talked to you about her and you told me to keep my hands off her, it was going to be worse because I couldn't do it. I tried. At least this way, I didn't outright lie to your face."

"You're not too ugly, you're a firefighter and you don't live in your mother's bas.e.m.e.nt. You could bang any chick in Boston, but you gotta mess around with my sister?"

"It just happened, Scotty. It's not like it's something I planned to do. But when she came back...it was just different somehow. I don't know if I was different or if she was different, but there was chemistry."

"She's not different. She's still my sister." Scott scrubbed his hand over his face, shaking his head. "You've been lying to me this whole time. There wasn't any blonde chick at the market whose name you didn't remember. That text was from Lydia."

"Yeah."

"And you don't have the b.a.l.l.s to just come and talk to me like a man about it?"

Normally, Aidan wouldn't take well to a comment like that, but he forced himself to accept that, in this case, he had it coming. And the only way his friendship with Scott Kincaid would survive was if he took whatever venting his best friend needed to do without escalating it.

"It wasn't supposed to be a big deal. It was just going to be...h.e.l.l. I don't know. We knew you'd be p.i.s.sed, even though she's an adult and can make her own choices."

"That sounds like a douche bag way of saying it's none of my business."

"I don't know." Aidan dumped his bag and stick on an empty bench. "Part of me wants to say it's not, but I know I crossed a line."

"Yeah, no s.h.i.t."

The door to the locker room banged open and Jeff Porter stuck his head in. "You two girls start your periods or are you gonna play some hockey?"

Scotty, who was dressed and ready, stood and grabbed his stick. "I'm coming."

"I'll be right there," Aidan said. When Scotty followed Porter out without another word, he unzipped his bag and popped open his locker.

It sucked. He and Scotty had been tight since they were teenagers and, though they'd had some disagreements over the years, this was a bad one. Scotty hadn't swung on him, which was good and bad. He didn't want to fight his best friend, but Scotty being quiet often meant he'd decided something wasn't worth his time or effort anymore.

By the time Aidan hit the ice, the others were warmed up and they fell into an easy rhythm. They'd all been playing hockey together a long time-whether just for fun or for the league-but they'd decided this year they were going to step up the practices. They'd had their a.s.ses handed to them by the police department's hockey team in their last charity matchup and that s.h.i.t couldn't happen again.

There was a lot of trash-talking and name-calling, along with a lot of laughter, and for a little while Aidan almost felt as if everything would be okay eventually. It would take a while. But he and Scotty were practically brothers and, like brothers, they'd find a way to get through this and maybe even come out stronger on the other side.

Then he and Scotty reached the puck at the same time and Aidan realized at the last second that Scotty wasn't slowing down. He barely had time to turn his body before his best friend checked him into the boards so hard he dropped to his knees, sucking air.

For a few seconds, he let himself believe it was an accident. But then Scotty slapped the puck and skated away without offering him a hand up and he knew the hit had been deliberate.

He shoved himself to his feet and, leaving his stick on the ice, took after Scotty. His friend watched him come, a sneer twisting his mouth, and then he dropped his stick and gloves onto the ice. Aidan flung his gloves to the side and led with his right.

Scotty jerked his head back so it was only a glancing blow. They grappled, and Scotty tried to come up underneath with a blow to his ribs. Aidan shoved hard against him, looking for room to get a swing in. He connected with Scotty's cheek, but Scotty's left grazed the corner of his mouth and Aidan tasted blood.

Enraged, he hit Scotty in the gut and then threw him down on the ice. With his practice jersey clenched in his left fist, he c.o.c.ked his arm back, ready to drive his right fist into Scotty's face. Somebody caught him from behind, dragging him backward.

Scotty scrambled to his skates, still coming, but Gullotti wrapped his arms around him from behind and held tight.

"What the f.u.c.k is wrong with you guys?" Gullotti bellowed. "Cut the s.h.i.t."

Aidan strained against whoever was holding him, but he wasn't breaking free so it was probably Porter. "I got more, Kincaid, if you wanna keep going."

"f.u.c.k you, Hunt."

"That's it." Gullotti shoved Scotty away. "We're done here. You guys give us a few minutes to get this one outta here and then he can change."

Aidan relaxed, but Porter didn't release him. "I'm good. You're breaking my freakin' arms, dude."

"And you ruined my hockey time, so be thankful it ain't your kneecaps, too."

He sat on the players' bench and waited until Gullotti sent a text to Porter telling him the locker room was clear. Porter showed him his phone's screen.

Tell Hunt to go directly to the house. This s.h.i.t will stop.

Aidan snorted. "You ladder guys can be real pushy."

"Walsh isn't here and somebody's gotta keep you guys in line. It's gonna be Cobb that reams your a.s.s, anyway, not Gullotti."

Porter wasn't wrong about that. Cobb was waiting for him in the second-floor office, and Scott was already seated in one of the two chairs on this side of the paper-covered desk.

"Sit down," Cobb said. "And if either of you two morons even thinks about throwing a punch in my office, I'll knock you both senseless with a five-pound sledge. Tell me what's going on."

Both men sat silently, arms folded and gazes fixed on spots over Cobb's head. He was the equivalent of the school princ.i.p.al and no matter how p.i.s.sed off they were, neither Aidan nor Scotty was a rat.

"So now you put up a united front. Idiots. Look at you." He gestured to their faces, which probably weren't pretty. "You two are brothers. Not just on the job, either."

"Makes it even more f.u.c.ked-up that he's banging my sister, then, don't it?"

His eyes widened. "I hope like h.e.l.l you don't mean Ashley or I'll need to contain Walsh. Jesus, Mary and Joseph, tell me that's not why they separated."

"He'd be dead already," Scotty said quietly.

"Lydia, huh?" The captain leveled a look at Aidan. "That true?"

He thought about his answer for a few seconds. He wasn't going to lie, but he wasn't going to let anybody disrespect Lydia, either. Even her brother. "I object to that description of our relationship."

"Oh, excuse me," Scotty said, his voice dripping with fake sincerity. "It's f.u.c.ked-up that he's having s.e.xual intercourse with my sister. Is that better?"

"You need to have some manners if you're talking about Lydia, a.s.shole."

Scotty scooted to the front of his chair, ready to stand. "Oh, really? You gonna give me a lesson on my own family, Hunt?"

"Enough!" Cobb leaned back in his chair and threw his pen onto the desk with so much force it slid across the paper planner and off the other side. "I won't have this bulls.h.i.t."

Aidan sank back against his chair, shaking his head. "I don't want to fight with you, Scotty. I never meant to hurt you and I'm sorry I lied."

"I'm not going to swing again," Scott said after what seemed like forever. "I'll work with you. I'll have your back when we go through the door. But you and me? I don't know if we can be friends again."

LYDIA CLOSED THE FRONT door quietly, in case Ashley was sleeping. They'd had a late rush at the bar and it had taken her forever to get out of there, so the house was dark. She flipped on the light switch as she walked into the living room, but the television being on struck her as weird. Her sister usually shut it off when she went upstairs.

Usually Lydia would watch it for a few minutes, relaxing after being at work, but tonight it would take a lot more than the television to relax her. She had no idea what was going on with the guys, and it was giving her a stress headache. When she'd called Aidan earlier in the night, he'd been quiet and when she asked him about Scotty, he'd said they were still working some stuff out. Then he'd told her he was going to catch up on sleep and he'd talk to her tomorrow.

Then she'd sent a text to Scotty asking him to stop by the bar, but he said he was busy, and didn't respond at all to her text asking him to make time to talk to her. She didn't appreciate being shut out of whatever was going on, as if it had nothing to do with her.

On her way to shut off the TV, she tripped over something and swore in a low voice, before realizing it was a man's shoe. That was even weirder than the television being on, she thought.

"Oh, s.h.i.t," she heard Ashley say, and she realized her sister was on the couch. She hadn't seen her because the furniture was in some kind of conversational arrangement, whatever that meant, and the back of the couch faced the entry. "Don't come in."

Lydia froze, not sure what that meant. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. But I'm...not fully dressed."

"So?"

"I'm not fully dressed, either," a male voice said, and Lydia realized it was Danny.

"Oh." Ashley and her husband were partially undressed together on the couch. Okay. "I'll, uh...be upstairs for a while. Or for a long time. Actually, I'll just go to bed, so good night."

"Lydia," Danny called, "you don't have to go upstairs. Just give us a second."

"I don't want to be in the way."

Ashley's head popped up over the back of the couch, and Lydia smiled at her. Her sister's hair was disheveled and her face was flushed. Then Danny sat up, looking much the same. Obviously her sister and her brother-in-law were finding a way to accelerate working through their communication issues.

"You're not in the way," Ashley said. "And you can stay down here. We'll go upstairs."

Danny turned around so he could give her a rea.s.suring smile. "Don't worry about us."

But she had been worried about them, and right now Ashley looked happy and in love and she needed some alone time with her husband. "You guys want to be alone."

"I took some time off, so she and I have plenty of time to catch up," Danny said. "If you can spare a little more time for the bar."

"Sure, no problem. And give me ten minutes and I'll be out of here. I'll go stay at Dad's."

Ashley grimaced. "You don't have to do that, Lydia. You know that."

"I want to. Really. Nothing's more hideous than being the third wheel to two people acting like newlyweds." She grinned at them. "Trust me. Ten minutes and you guys can go back to making out on the couch like teenagers."

She went upstairs and pulled her bag out of the closet. Taking just what was clean and necessary, as well as her toiletries from the bathroom, would save her some time. She could come back for the rest another time.

"You aren't really going to stay at Dad's are you?"

Lydia closed the top drawer of the bureau and dropped the handful of undergarments into the open bag. "We grew up in that house. It's Dad. I can handle staying there."

"You're making me feel guilty."

"Don't." Lydia straightened and gave her sister a warm smile. "I'm happy for you. I really am, and you two need to be alone right now."

"Can't you stay with-" Ashley broke off, looking over her shoulder, and Lydia realized Ashley didn't know the secret was out. Danny must not, either. Then, in a lower voice Ashley continued, "I'm sure you could find somebody else to stay with."

"That's not really..." Lydia let the words die away, not sure what to say. Playing house, even temporarily, with Aidan was a recipe for disaster as far as her emotions were concerned. "We're not really heading in that direction and it's probably best not to muddy the water."

"I think you guys are a great couple."

"That's based on what, exactly? We haven't been running around doing the couple thing where everybody can see us."

Ashley shrugged. "No, but I've seen you together a couple of times at the bar, and I know you both well enough to know you're probably great together."

"Yeah, we are, I think."

"So...what's the problem?"

Lydia threw some more clothes in the bag, figuring they would be enough for a couple of days, and fell back on her standard excuse. "I don't live here anymore, Ash. I just came here to help you out and now you won't need me much longer."

"You could live here again. Just don't leave."

It was that easy and also that hard, but she didn't want to open that door with her sister. If Ashley knew Lydia was even considering staying in Boston, she'd never hear the end of it. "You're missing the point, which is that I don't want to live here anymore. The reasons I left are still valid reasons to leave again."

"But now there's Aidan."

"He's a firefighter."

Ashley walked over and sat on the edge of the bed, trying to make Lydia look at her. "It wasn't Todd's job that destroyed your marriage. It was Todd."

Lydia really wasn't in the mood for an impromptu therapy session. "And then there's Dad. Tell me it wasn't hard being his daughter and I'll tell you you're full of s.h.i.t. And Scotty. And everybody's in everybody else's business and the brotherhood and blah blah blah."

"You see it as drowning you and I see it as buoying me and helping me float."

Lydia gave her an arch look. "I seem to recall they were buoying you so much I had to come down here and fill in at Kincaid's so you could have a minute of privacy to worry about yourself."

"Touche." Ashley stood and looked at the bag. "You really don't have to go to Dad's. You know he's already in bed."

"I still have my key. I'll leave a note in his chair so when he gets up, he'll know I'm there."

"He'll be cranky as h.e.l.l if you wake him up."

Lydia snorted. "He's going to be so thankful to have Danny back in the family fold, he wouldn't care if I showed up with a mariachi band."

And she was right. Leaving the two lovebirds to get back to what they'd been doing before she interrupted them, Lydia drove to her dad's house and parked behind his car. She'd leave her keys on the table in case he needed to move it, but owning a bar had trained the morning person out of him.

She thought she was quiet, but she was only halfway to her old bedroom-which had stayed a guest room-when her eyeb.a.l.l.s were seared by a flashlight so bright, she wondered if he had it hooked to a car battery.

"Jesus, Dad, it's me," she said, trying to shield her eyes behind her hand. It clicked off and she blinked at the spots she'd probably be seeing for days.

"What the h.e.l.l are you doing? What if I'd clocked you upside the head with a bat?"

"You think I'd just stand here and let you come at me with a bat? And I'm temporarily-very, very temporarily-going to stay in my old room."