"Yeah, just like yours, except that yours is selective. Let me finish my story. So you come back from dinner at Ed's house one night, all bug-eyed and quiet. And when I ragged you to find out what was up, you said, hey, leave me alone. It's a big day. I just met my future bride."
Connor went cold. "I said that?"
"Yeah, you said that," Sean said. "It knocked me on my ass. You said, Ed Riggs's daughter is so pretty, I can't even believe the stupid shit I said. Probably Riggs's wife thinks I'm a retard. Only problem is, she's seventeen years old."
"You're making this up," Connor said.
"Cross my heart," Sean said. "This scene is engraved in stone in my memory. So I say to you, You filthy perv. That's going to go over real good at your new job, lusting after your colleague's teenage daughter. And you know what you said to me?"
Connor braced himself. "What did I say?"
"You said, No problem, man. I'll wait for her." Sean glared at him.
"I said that?" Connor said numbly.
"Yeah! You said that! And I thought you were joking! But you weren't! You fucking weren't joking!"
The coffeepot began to gurgle and hiss, but Sean was locked in his indignant pose. Connor reached past him and shut off the gas. "Don't blow this all out of proportion," he muttered. "It's not like I kept myself pure for ten years, for God's sake."
"Oh, yes, you did." Sean put a sharp, vicious emphasis on every word. "Sure, you fucked some other women now and then, but that's as far as it went. Am I right? Answer me, goddamn it!"
Connor thought about all the times he'd gently broken things off whenever the woman he was seeing started talking about the future.
Ouch. Not much point in denying it. "Calm down, Sean," he said. "I don't have the energy for another big scene right now."
"Don't tell me to calm down! Don't tell me that you've dreamed about this girl for a decade, you save her from a fate worse than death, you survive her conniving asshole of a father, you rescue her sister from the Fuckhead, you win over the homicidal mother-in-law, you finagle your way into her bed, and you're giving up now?"
"She thinks I'm nuts, Sean!" Connor yelled.
"So convince her that you're not!" Sean bellowed back. "You are never going to be happy if you let this go, and I hate it! I can't stand to watch you waste away again!"
Their furious gazes locked. Connor was the first to look away. "I've got to make sure I'm not crazy for real before I get near her again," he said heavily. "I've created enough chaos in her life. I don't want to pile something like that on her shoulders, too. That would be cruel."
Sean's mouth tightened. He poured the coffee and handed Connor a cup. "Weren't you with Erin when Vega got whacked?"
"No. I was with her until around five a.m. Then I sneaked outside."
"Why the hell did you do that?" Sean demanded.
"I was afraid of her mother," Connor admitted. "You saw that Jag. Can you blame me? I came back in around eight for breakfast."
Sean stared out the window, scowling. "Can't she just say you were with her? What does it matter, if you're innocent anyway?"
"I'm sure she would, if I asked her to," Connor said softly. "But it wouldn't be right. I don't want anything with her that's built on lies."
Sean slammed his cup down onto the counter. Scalding coffee splashed over his hand. He lunged for the sink and ran cold water over it. "Built on lies, my ass! Brainless, self-righteous idiot!"
Connor winced and covered his ears. "Please don't break anything else," he pleaded. "My head hurts. I can't stand the noise."
"You've got to shake this thing off of you, goddammit! And you've got to get that girl, too. And do you know why?"
Connor sank back into his chair, resigned. Evidently today's histrionics weren't over yet. "OK. Tell me why, Sean."
"Because you deserve it. You're a righteous dude. You're like… noble or something. With your code of honor. Your marching orders. That's why Davy and I tease you about the hero complex. It's a soft spot that can't be shielded. It leaves you wide open."
Connor sighed. "That is such a crock—"
"You're a good guy, Con," Sean trampled over his protests. "More so than Davy or me. More than anyone I know, except for maybe Jesse, and look what happened to him. You can't bend, you can't cut bait and run. You can't compromise. It's like, you don't even know how."
Connor stared down into his coffee and tried not to think about Jesse. He felt bad enough already. "Dad was like that," he pointed out. "He didn't know how to bend. So he broke."
Silence fell. The dour ghost of Eamon's memory weighed upon them. Eamon had been a good and honorable man, but he had been profoundly disillusioned by the violent insults that life had dealt him. Grief and anger had chipped away at his sanity until it was totally gone.
"You're not like Dad, Con." Sean's voice vibrated with suppressed emotion. "You're stronger than Dad was. And you're kinder, too."
Connor took a gulp of his coffee and groped around for a change of subject. The coffee itself was always a handy culprit. "Christ, Sean, how did you make this stuff so strong? It's corroding my gut."
"That's the scotch, bozo, not my coffee. Let's coat it with some food," Sean said. "Go shower while I make you some lunch."
"Don't coddle me," Connor snapped. "I can take care of my—"
"Take a shower, and put on one of my shirts. None of your limp, faded crap. You want the world to think you're sane and well-balanced? Start by shaving and combing your hair."
When Connor came back down to the kitchen, he was freshly shaven and dressed in a crisp denim shirt he'd found in Sean's closet. His brother ran a critical eye over him, and nodded. "You'll do."
Connor grunted and sat down. They honored a tacit agreement not to tear open any more raw, unspeakable topics, and since there was nothing to talk about except madness, murder, love, heartbreak, and God only knew what else, they concentrated on chewing and swallowing Sean's grilled ham and cheese sandwiches in silence.
Sean shrugged on his leather jacket afterwards. "I cooked, so you do the dishes," he announced. "I'm going to go track down Davy. We have to start turning over some rocks about that murder rap."
"Stay out of it," Connor snapped, as he followed him out to the car.
Sean dug for his keys. "Yeah, sure. As if. You should find Erin, now that you've shaved. Talk to her. Lay on that old McCloud charm."
"Charm, my ass. I sprout hair on the back of my hands whenever I get near her. Besides, she's busy with the filthy rich art fiend who wants to drape her in jewels and take her to Paris."
Sean's jaw sagged in dismay. "What? And you just let her go? Where do you keep your brains, Con? In a box under your bed?"
"She wouldn't let me go with her," Connor snarled. "Get it through your thick skull! She doesn't want me, so I can't follow her around. It's against the rules. It's called stalking. Crazy guys stalk women. I'm making a big effort not to act crazy right now. Do you follow me?"
Sean looked pained. "Yeah, but letting her go see a guy who's waving tickets to Paris? Jesus, Con. That calls for desperate measures."
"Don't get me started," he growled. "I've been going over it all night. At least she's not alone, for all the good that does. Tonia would probably cheer Mueller on. Hell, she'd probably propose a threesome."
"Tonia Vasquez, you mean? Erin's bodacious nurse friend?"
Connor stared at him, startled. "How do you know about Tonia the bodacious nurse? I never told you about her."
"I met her this morning when I dropped off Miles. She was talking to Erin's mom. Beautiful tits. I recognized her, you know."
"From where?"
"From the clinic." Sean gave him a funny look, as if it should be obvious. "She was a nurse there when you were in your coma. You know I never forget a face. Or a chest, for that matter."