1
Thirteen months later
Kevin glanced out the window of his childhood bedroom. The yard that sloped down toward the Chesapeake Bay was decorated with balloons. Piles of presents sat on a picnic table next to a cake decorated with toy trucks, Davy’s favorite things. All of the O’Briens had gathered to celebrate his son’s second birthday, but Kevin could barely summon the energy to get out of bed. Despite his resolve to be strong for Davy, he’d pretty much been a wreck since Georgia’s death, not able to get a fix on anything, unable to make even the most basic decisions about his life.
He had made three decisions, though. He’d quit his job as a paramedic, he’d sold the town house, which was filled with memories of his too-brief marriage, and he’d moved home. At least here, he knew there were plenty of people who would love and look out for his son while he figured out what came next. That was something he really needed to get to…one of these days.
Someone pounded on the door of his room—his younger brother from the sound of it.
“Get your butt downstairs!” Connor bellowed. “The party’s about to start.”
Given his choice, Kevin would have crawled back into bed and pulled the pillow over his head to block out the sound of laughter coming from outside. He wouldn’t, though. For one thing, even if nothing else in his life made sense, his son was the most important person in it. Kevin wouldn’t let him down. For another, either Gram or his dad would be up here next, and either one of them had the power to shame him into doing what was right for the occasion.
“On my way,” he assured Connor.
He showered in record time, pulled on jeans and a T-shirt and slid his feet into an old pair of sneakers, then went downstairs. Only his youngest sister, Jess, was in the kitchen. She surveyed him, then shook her head.
“You’re a mess,” she declared.
“I showered. These clothes are clean,” he protested.
“Did you lose your razor? And maybe your comb?”
“Who are you?” he grumbled. “The fashion patrol?”
“Just calling it like I see it, big brother. Everyone else spruced up for the party. Turning two is a big deal.”
“Do you honestly think Davy’s going to care if I shaved?” he asked as he rubbed his hand over his unshaven jaw. He had shaved yesterday—or was it the day before? He couldn’t recall. Mostly the days slipped by in a blur.
“No, Davy won’t care today, but you’ll look like some derelict in the pictures. Is that the memory you want him to carry with him throughout his life? Last year on his first birthday it made sense that you looked ragged. It was only a few weeks after Georgia—”
“Don’t mention her name,” he snapped.
“Someone has to,” she said, looking him directly in the eye without backing down. “You loved her, Kev. I get that. You’re hurting and angry because she’s gone, but you can’t pretend she didn’t exist. She was that little boy’s mom. What are you planning to do, let him go through his entire life with the subject of his mother off-limits? What about his grandparents? Do you expect them never to mention their daughter’s name?”
“I can’t talk about her. Not yet.” He knew it was irrational, but somehow he thought if he didn’t talk about Georgia or her death, it wouldn’t be real. She’d still be out there, on the other side of the world, saving lives. She’d still walk through the door one day, back into his life.
“When, then?” Jess asked, her gaze unrelenting.
If he hadn’t been so annoyed, he might have admired her persistence. For a woman who rarely stuck with anything for long, Jess had certainly dug in her heels on this. Just his freaking luck.
“What do you expect me to say?” he snapped again. “A day? A month? Hell if I know when I’ll be ready.” Even as he spoke, he felt the sting of tears in his eyes. He hated the sign of weakness almost as much as he hated this whole conversation. “Just drop it, okay?”
Of course she didn’t. “Sit down,” she ordered, not cutting him any slack.
He didn’t like that Jess was turning the tables on him. His little sister had always come to him for advice. Now she was obviously planning to dole it out. Just like Georgia, once Jess got stirred up, she was going to speak her mind, whether anyone wanted to listen or not. Apparently this was one of those times. Kevin sat, mostly because he was too shaky not to and because she’d plunked a cup of much-needed coffee on the table to go with whatever words she was intent on dishing out.
She pulled a chair close and sat so that her knees were brushing his. She covered one of his hands with hers. The show of sympathy was almost his undoing.