"You're married. You can't take a break. I'll talk to him."
"I'm sure he'd love to see you, Aiden." Nicole turned to Lynda. "I came over to ask if you could watch Brandon tomorrow morning. I have to monitor the SAT testing. I'll be gone a little over three hours."
"Of course, honey," Lynda said. "I'd also be happy to watch Brandon so you and Ryan can get away together. Sometimes parents need to separate from their children and reconnect."
"I know you're right, but it's hard to leave Brandon overnight. He's not good when his routine changes. And I can't afford a setback. I should probably go see what he's up to."
"I'll go," Lynda said, waving her back into her seat. "You visit with Aiden."
"Okay."
"So what aren't you telling me, Nic?" Aiden asked when they were alone.
"What do you mean?"
"Your smile has a lot of cracks in it."
"It's been a rough couple of weeks, but it's going to be fine."
"How's the teaching job?"
"I'm job sharing this year, so it's just one day a week. That's pretty much all I can handle in between Brandon's school, doctor appointments and therapy sessions, but enough about me. How are you? I heard you were hurt."
Her gaze ran down his body, but she wouldn't be able to see his scars. They were on the inside.
"I tore some muscles in my leg, otherwise I'm fine."
"I doubt that. We've been worried about you, Aiden. You didn't come to Kyle's funeral. You didn't call anyone back. Mom and Dad went to the hospital in Redding to see you, and you had checked yourself out against doctor's orders."
"I had to get out of there."
"Where did you go?"
"I just drove around. I didn't come to the funeral, because Vicky asked me not to," he said, referring to Kyle's widow. "I figured the least I could do was honor her wishes."
"How could she not want you there? I don't get it. No one does. You and Kyle were best friends."
"She blames me for Kyle's death."
"But it was an accident, right?"
"That depends on who you talk to."
"You need to explain, Aiden, to tell everyone exactly what happened."
"I can't."
"Can't or won't?" his sister challenged.
"It doesn't matter. Result is the same. Kyle is dead. No explanation will bring him back."
"I hate to see you taking the heat."
"I can handle the heat." Changing the subject, he added, "Right now, I'm more concerned about you and Ryan. Things are worse than you're saying, aren't they?"
"Life is just harder now," she said. "I have to focus on Brandon. He's my child, and I have to make him better. I know that Ryan wants that, too. But he can be negative, and I can't listen to his doubts, so sometimes I don't listen to him at all," she confessed.
"You're in a tough situation, no doubt, but you have to get through it together."
"I hope we will, but there's a short window of time where we can really impact Brandon's diagnosis. That time is now. I have to put my energy there. And Ryan is just going to have to wait."
He nodded, thinking he definitely needed to hear Ryan's side of the story.
"So, how did you get the black eye?" Nicole asked. "That looks recent."
"It happened about thirty minutes ago. There was a fire next door at Sara's house."
"I know. I saw the fire engine on my way in. At first I thought it was just Dad or Burke stopping by our house to get something. Do you know what happened?"
"It started in the kitchen. I had just parked my car out front when I saw the flames. There was no one else around, so I broke down the door and I had to rescue Sara's father. He tripped down the stairs and broke his leg."
"Seriously? Did he hit you while you were rescuing him?" she asked with a knowing gleam in her eye. "You were not one of his favorite people, especially after your paint ball team sprayed the side of his house with purple paint."
He smiled. "I forgot about that."
"Well, I haven't forgotten. I helped you clean it up."
"You were a good sister that day. Mr. Davidson didn't punch me. It was someone else."
"Who?"
He shrugged off her question. "It doesn't matter."
She shook her head in wonder. "It's amazing how often trouble finds you. Is Mr. Davidson all right?"
"He should be fine in time."
"It's good you arrived home when you did. Who knows how long it would have been before someone found him?"
"Not that long. Sara was with him."
"Sara is back?" she asked in surprise. "I haven't seen her in years. She and Em were so close, I almost felt like I had another little sister. How is she?"
"Don't really know. She was worried about her father and upset about the fire." As he finished speaking, his mom and Brandon returned to the kitchen. Brandon ran immediately to Nicole's side, keeping his gaze on the floor, as if the last thing he wanted to do was make eye contact with Aiden.
"I have to go," Nicole said. "Can you say goodbye Brandon?"
The little boy didn't say a word, but he did give a negative shake of his head.
"At least I know he hears me," Nicole said. "I'll see you tomorrow, Mom. Aiden, don't be a stranger."
"I'll come by this weekend," he said.
After Nicole and Brandon left, Aiden looked over at Lynda. "How does she do it?"
Lynda shook her head, her eyes a little sad. "I have no idea. She has this deep well of strength and determination, but I worry about what happens if she doesn't get the results she wants so desperately. That little boy is everything to her, but I don't know if even her amazing will can bring him back."
"I wish I could help."
"Well, you're in town for a while anyway. Maybe you can spend some time with them."
"I will," he promised. He got to his feet, biting back a revealing groan, but his mother's sharp eyes didn't miss a thing.
"You're in pain," Lynda said.
"It's not that bad." His leg had been getting better, but his muscles were cramping from the weight he'd had to put on his leg while carrying Sara's father up the stairs. "I will take a rest though."
"I'll call you when dinner is ready."
"Thanks, Lynda."
She smiled. "I'm glad you're home, Aiden."
He smiled back, but he had a feeling his father might not feel the same way.
Chapter Four
Her family home was a mess. Three hours after the fire, Sara surveyed the damage in her father's kitchen. The room was completely destroyed by fire, smoke and water, and the adjacent rooms had also suffered. The entire downstairs would need work, new carpets, new paint, new flooring. The enormity of the devastation blew her away. She'd never imagined an unattended pot could ignite such a big fire. Her father was going to have a heart attack when he came home. His neat and tidy house was in complete disarray – much like the state of her life.
She'd had such high hopes for the weekend, imagining them finally reconnecting and breaking down the walls between them. But when he'd come out of surgery, he'd barely acknowledged her presence. He was in a lot of pain and groggy from the drugs, but really his behavior was no different than it had been before the fire.
Maybe she should just accept the fact that they were never going to be more than strangers to each other. In fact, maybe she should start the acceptance process now. She could go back to New York, to her apartment, to her job. But she'd never been a quitter, and while she'd taken a long break from her father, she was here now, and she wanted to make some kind of change.
Her father would be in the hospital for several days. Then he would be off his feet for weeks after that. He would need help getting this house back together. Maybe she could get the process started.
"Sara?"
The sound of a familiar female voice drew her away from the devastation. She walked out of the kitchen and through the dining room to find her childhood friend, Emma Kane-Callaway standing in the entry. Emma wore dark jeans tucked into black boots, and a cream-colored sweater under a black leather jacket. A hazel-eyed blonde who barely reached five foot two, Emma was still a force to be reckoned with. An athlete, and a bit of a tomboy, Emma had always been brimming with courage, confidence and drive, making her more than capable of keeping up with her five brothers.
"Sorry for walking in, but the door is busted," Emma said, waving her hand to the door that was hanging off one hinge.
"Aiden kicked it in when he rescued us."
"I heard he arrived just in time. Aiden was never one for finesse."
"No, but he saved my father's life so I'm very grateful." She paused, a smile spreading across her face. "It's so good to see you, Emma."
Emma smiled back. "You, too. I wish it was under better circumstances." She opened her arms to give Sara a hug. "How are you doing?"
"I'm hanging in there."
"Tough day, huh?" Emma asked, sympathy in her gaze.
"It wasn't great."
"You won't want to stay here tonight, Sara. It stinks. Why don't you come next door? You can share my room the way we used to when we were kids."
"We're a little old for that, aren't we?"
"It will be fun, and my mom will love it. She's been complaining that the house is too empty these days with only three of us kids living at home, although Aiden is back now, so that makes four." Emma paused, giving her a sharp look. "And if you're worried about Aiden, he's in his old room over the garage. So I doubt we'll see much of him."
"I'm not worried about Aiden," she said quickly. "Why would you think that?"
"Oh, maybe because something went down between you two a very long time ago and no one ever told me what it was," Emma complained, her sharp gaze resting on Sara's face.
"You always had a big imagination, Em. By the way, I like your short hair," she added. Emma's silky straight blond hair had been cut at an angle, the ends framing her face. "It brings out your eyes."
"Thanks. It's easier to wear under my helmet. And you just changed the subject," she said pointedly.
"I did, didn't I? How is it being a female firefighter?"
"Actually, I'm an arson investigator now."
"Really?"
"Yes. I always liked a good mystery, so it's the perfect job for me. What about you? You're a lawyer, right? Your dad must be proud you followed in his footsteps," Emma said.
She shrugged, doubtful he cared one way or the other.
Emma frowned. "You look exhausted, Sara. There's nothing more you can do here tonight. Let the house air out, and you can tackle things in the morning. My mom made lasagna, and she has a plate for you in the oven. What you need right now is a good meal and some peace and quiet."
Her stomach growled at the thought of Lynda's lasagna. "I am hungry. I'll take the lasagna and figure out where I'm going to sleep later."
"Good idea."
As they walked past the broken front door, Sara paused. "I need to get this fixed. I can't leave the house open all night."
"I'm sure one of my brothers or my dad can repair it or put up some plywood for you. It will be fine for now. It's still a safe neighborhood.
"Okay. I'll deal with it later."
As they left the house, a cool breeze made Sara shiver, but she appreciated the crisp November air. It felt refreshing compared to the smoky heat of the house.
They walked across the grass and down the driveway. No one ever used the front entrance of the Callaway house. The side door was closest to the kitchen and when they were growing up, getting food was usually the only reason they went inside.
The delicious smell of garlic greeted her as she entered the kitchen, but the peace and quiet Emma had promised was lost in an angry argument between Aiden, his father, Jack, and his older brother, Burke. The three were standing in the middle of the kitchen, and they all appeared to be talking at once, raising their voices louder and louder as they fought to be heard. Lynda hovered off to one side, offering peacemaking entreaties, but no one was paying her any attention.
"You need to take responsibility for your actions, Aiden," Burke said heatedly.
The two oldest Callaway brothers had gone head-to-head for as long as Sara could remember. Their extremely competitive instincts had made it impossible for either one to accept that the other might be better or stronger.
Burke was the older by two years and taller than Aiden, broader, too. His hair was a dark, dark brown, almost black, and his eyes were a deeper blue than his brother's. Burke had the look of a winner. He was clean-shaven, his hair short and styled, his clothes neat and unwrinkled. Aiden had a leaner build, a more rugged, sexy look, his hair a little too long, his jaw unshaven, his clothes showing every minute of his day. And some of those minutes had been spent carrying her father out of the basement, so she'd forgive the worn jeans and the dusty t-shirt.
"I have taken responsibility," Aiden said shortly.
"No, you've done nothing but stay silent, the way you always do after you screw up," Burke replied.
Aiden's face paled under the attack, and Sara felt compassion for him. Burke had been a tough act for Aiden to follow. Burke had been the star quarterback in high school as well as the senior class president and had done all that while getting straight A's and winning national scholarships.
Aiden had been a good athlete, too, excelling at baseball, but he'd never participated in school government or gotten good grades. He'd been much more interested in having a good time. And while Burke was impressing people right and left, Aiden was usually getting into trouble.
"Burke is right," Jack interjected, his eyes on his younger son.
"That I'm a screw up?" Aiden asked, sarcasm in his voice. "Tell me something I don't know, Dad."
Jack's jaw tightened. He wasn't as tall as either of his sons, but he still had a big presence and a huge personality. His hair had gone white since Sara had last seen him, and his normally ruddy complexion was very red now, anger burning in his eyes.
"You need to tell us what happened on that mountain," Jack continued. "You owe Kyle that much."
Aiden's jaw tightened. "Don't talk to me about what I owe Kyle. Neither one of you knew him the way I did."