Blondie kept a hand on his arm the entire time. Bear shook his head. Sometimes he regretted the fact that he still worked with his ex-wife. Once she got wind of this, he’d never hear the end of it.
2. Dylan. April 29
“Give me one of those.” Sarah was slumped back in a cast iron chair as she said the words, her injured leg tucked up in front of her.
“Hell, no,” Dylan said as he lit his cigarette, shielding the lighter from the wind. He took a long drag from the cigarette, the coal lighting up, the faint sound of the tobacco burning audibly in his ears.
“I’m eighteen now.”
He raised an eyebrow, glancing over at her. After the too intense discussion with Carrie, he’d stepped outside for a smoke, planning on a little solitude. Sarah had followed him out onto the balcony. Twenty stories up, he could see most of Bethesda and parts of northwest Washington, DC spread out below his feet.
“I don’t give a shit if you’re thirty,” Dylan said. “I’m not giving you a cigarette. If you want one that bad, buy your own.”
“You’re kidding, right? I don’t leave the house. I’m a cripple, didn’t you know that?”
He slumped into the seat across from her. “You’re no more a cripple than I am. Actually your injuries weren’t as bad as mine.”
She shrugged. “I’m not a soldier.”
“Better toughen up, then. What’s this about you being a cripple?”
She sneered. “It’s nothing. Mom and Dad basically laid down the rule I couldn’t ever leave without an escort.”
“Alex said you home schooled this year?”
“Tutors, mostly. I can’t imagine what it cost. But it’s changed everything.”
“How?”
She raised her eyebrows. “You went to high school. You know what I’m talking about.”
Dylan shrugged and took a drag off his cigarette. “I don’t really. My high schooling wasn’t exactly normal.”
Her eyes widened a little, then she said, “Oh, that’s right. I forgot. I remember the night Alexandra told Dad you’d dropped out of school. He was overjoyed.”
“I’m sure he was.”
Unexpectedly she leaned forward, tilting her head slightly to the right, a serious expression in her eyes.
“You’re drinking again, aren’t you?”
Dylan froze. For nearly fifteen seconds he didn’t move. Then his eyes darted to the sliding glass door.
“What makes you say that?” The question was unnecessary. He knew why she asked. Everything about his appearance made people wonder. Alex wondered. Everyone who knew him did.
“Common sense,” she replied. “You lost your two closest friends in two years. You’ve got no one to talk to. You’re up there in New York married to my uptight as hell sister and you’re all alone. You look like shit.”
“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, Sarah.”
She leaned forward, raising a knowing eyebrow. “I know exactly what I’m talking about, Dylan.”
“I’m not going to tell Alexandra,” she said. “That’s your deal. But you need to.”
Dylan grimaced. “It’s not drinking a lot , Sarah. But like you said, I lost my two closest friends. A drink every once in a while is okay.”
Sarah’s eyes dropped to the floor. “I was afraid of that,” she said.
Even though she wasn’t looking at him any more, Dylan still felt defensive. Sarah was Alex’s younger sister by several years, but she always seemed to see right through him. And somehow the experience of the accident last summer formed some kind of bond for her with Ray. It didn’t make any sense. It didn’t have to. But when she looked at him with sad, knowing eyes, Dylan felt like Ray was looking at him.
He didn’t like the way that felt.
Dylan looked at Sarah. “Listen, Sarah. We’re not discussing this any more. I’ve got it under control, and Alex is already freaked out enough about Ray and you and Andrea and the baby… she doesn’t need this on her plate, all right? In the greater scheme of things, me grabbing a drink every now and
2. Dylan. April 29
“Give me one of those.” Sarah was slumped back in a cast iron chair as she said the words, her injured leg tucked up in front of her.
“Hell, no,” Dylan said as he lit his cigarette, shielding the lighter from the wind. He took a long drag from the cigarette, the coal lighting up, the faint sound of the tobacco burning audibly in his ears.
“I’m eighteen now.”
He raised an eyebrow, glancing over at her. After the too intense discussion with Carrie, he’d stepped outside for a smoke, planning on a little solitude. Sarah had followed him out onto the balcony. Twenty stories up, he could see most of Bethesda and parts of northwest Washington, DC spread out below his feet.
“I don’t give a shit if you’re thirty,” Dylan said. “I’m not giving you a cigarette. If you want one that bad, buy your own.”
“You’re kidding, right? I don’t leave the house. I’m a cripple, didn’t you know that?”
He slumped into the seat across from her. “You’re no more a cripple than I am. Actually your injuries weren’t as bad as mine.”
She shrugged. “I’m not a soldier.”
“Better toughen up, then. What’s this about you being a cripple?”
She sneered. “It’s nothing. Mom and Dad basically laid down the rule I couldn’t ever leave without an escort.”
“Alex said you home schooled this year?”
“Tutors, mostly. I can’t imagine what it cost. But it’s changed everything.”
“How?”
She raised her eyebrows. “You went to high school. You know what I’m talking about.”
Dylan shrugged and took a drag off his cigarette. “I don’t really. My high schooling wasn’t exactly normal.”
Her eyes widened a little, then she said, “Oh, that’s right. I forgot. I remember the night Alexandra told Dad you’d dropped out of school. He was overjoyed.”
“I’m sure he was.”
Unexpectedly she leaned forward, tilting her head slightly to the right, a serious expression in her eyes.
“You’re drinking again, aren’t you?”
Dylan froze. For nearly fifteen seconds he didn’t move. Then his eyes darted to the sliding glass door.
“What makes you say that?” The question was unnecessary. He knew why she asked. Everything about his appearance made people wonder. Alex wondered. Everyone who knew him did.
“Common sense,” she replied. “You lost your two closest friends in two years. You’ve got no one to talk to. You’re up there in New York married to my uptight as hell sister and you’re all alone. You look like shit.”
“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, Sarah.”
She leaned forward, raising a knowing eyebrow. “I know exactly what I’m talking about, Dylan.”
“I’m not going to tell Alexandra,” she said. “That’s your deal. But you need to.”
Dylan grimaced. “It’s not drinking a lot , Sarah. But like you said, I lost my two closest friends. A drink every once in a while is okay.”
Sarah’s eyes dropped to the floor. “I was afraid of that,” she said.
Even though she wasn’t looking at him any more, Dylan still felt defensive. Sarah was Alex’s younger sister by several years, but she always seemed to see right through him. And somehow the experience of the accident last summer formed some kind of bond for her with Ray. It didn’t make any sense. It didn’t have to. But when she looked at him with sad, knowing eyes, Dylan felt like Ray was looking at him.
He didn’t like the way that felt.
Dylan looked at Sarah. “Listen, Sarah. We’re not discussing this any more. I’ve got it under control, and Alex is already freaked out enough about Ray and you and Andrea and the baby… she doesn’t need this on her plate, all right? In the greater scheme of things, me grabbing a drink every now and
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