“And you thought that would work out?” I toss my cig to the side and step on it, crossing in front of Stewart and planting my feet, staring up into eyes that I haven’t seen in far too long. “You thought what? She’d date both of you? Forever?”

He meets my stare solidly. “It was that or lose her. What was I supposed to do?”

I scoff, an expression that trips and somehow becomes an unladylike snort. “Work a normal schedule. Cut back to eighty hours a week. Enjoy life. Have an actual relationship with someone. Not timeshare her out!”

His face hardens, lines forming where there once were none. “I regret it now. I know that I fucked up. But at the time—I didn’t love her then. I had just met her. I didn’t know where it would go.”

I look into his eyes. “You love her.” I test the words on my tongue, knowing, as I stare into his eyes, that he means it. That my big, strong, only-cares-about-work brother has fallen in love. Then I remember where we are standing and my blood runs cold. “Why are we here, Stewart? What happened?”

His face crumbles for a moment, a flash of weakness before he busies himself with a puff of smoke. “There was an accident,” he says softly, the last word swelling in his mouth. “A surfing accident. They don’t think she’s gonna make it.”

A surfing accident. This situation suddenly has taken a nosedive into hell. I don’t need to ask if Paul was there. I don’t need to know the many parallels that must exist that tie this incident to the one ten years ago. I swallow hard, and my heart aches for my boys.

He wipes at his face, pressing both hands over his face, the cigarette burning down, close to his skin, my desire to keep him from being hurt overridden by my understanding that I should give him space. “Paul.” He chokes out. “Paul was who she found. God’s twisted fuckaround in our lives. And when I found out... God Dana – the things I said to him.” He drops his hands, drops the burning cigarette to the ground and falls back against the column, his eyes staring out, red and filled with tears. “How did this all happen?”

I go to him, wrapping my arms around his waist and hugging him tightly as my mind sorts through all that he has just said. I had the entire situation wrong, had never dreamed that they were willingly sharing her with an unknown stranger. “Does he love her?” I pulled back and look up at Stewart. “Paul. Does he love her, too?”

“He’s Paul.”

I understand instantly what he means. Paul is a lover. He loves freely and easily; his love accepts faults and is unconditional in its strength. He wouldn’t be with her if he didn’t love her.

“Will you go talk to him?”

“I think you should.” I say gently. “I think you are about ten years overdue.”

His jaw tightens. “He shouldn’t have let her go with them. You know that.”

I glare at him. “He was fucking nineteen! And Jennifer’s not coming back, whether the relationship between you two is intact or ruined. But you know what she would have wanted.” I pull at his arm, make him look me in the eye. “She would have wanted you to be close. To be what you used to be.”

He meets my stare, his shoulders dropping slightly. “I can’t do it, Dana. I can’t go back in there after the things I said. Just go find out what he’s thinking. I called you here because I need you. We need you.”

I can’t deny that request. Not when it is the first time one of my brothers have reached out to me in years. I give him one final hug and then step back inside, anxious to see Paul. It has been so long.

PAUL

I rest my head on her stomach, feel the rise and fall of her chest, and wonder how long they will let me stay. Wonder if it is a doctor or my brother who will make me leave. I am caught off guard when a soft female hand touches my arm. Pulls it. I close my eyes and take a final breath of Madd’s scent before I rise to follow the nurse.

But it isn’t a nurse. I am so confused at her face—Dana—a face I haven’t seen in years. After Jennifer, after Stewart’s accusations and the guilt of her death—I couldn’t be around the family. Couldn’t be reminded of the decision I made that killed her. And now she is here. A damn family reunion in the middle of Madd’s hospital room. I feel a flash of anger at the intrusion, mixed with the confusing joy at seeing her. Dana was our glue, our strength. She held us together until the point when everything fell apart. And in this moment of breakage, I want nothing more than to wrap my arms around her. “What are you doing here, Dana?”

She walks over to Madison. Glances at the monitors. “Stewart called me. He explained... the situation.”

I step backward, until I feel the edge of the chair, and sink into it. “He blames it on me. Again.”

She shakes her head, turning to look at me, her profile aged since I saw her last. A few shots of gray through her hair, crow’s feet around her eyes. “No he doesn’t. That’s his emotions talking. Just like it was with Jennifer. He’s mad at the situation. You’re just the closest thing for him to take it rage out on. Brush it off.”

“I don’t want to brush it off. It’s bullshit. Bullshit that I—and Madison—don’t need.”

She tilts her head at me. “You can’t speak for her. You want to speak up for yourself—fine. I think you should. I think you should tell Stewart every thing that you’ve pent up over the last decade. I think you should tell him exactly how you feel about her, and exactly how you want this to end. He deserves you to verbally kick his ass and he deserves to know how you feel about her. But it’s a two-way street. And you need to be prepared to hear what he says, too.”

“I heard what he said. He made it clear what he thinks of me.”

“But do you know what he thinks of her?”

Her soft tone makes me pause, makes me consider my next words before releasing them. “No. But I saw his reaction when he saw her. It...it wasn’t what I would expect—knowing Stewart as I—we—once did.” I look up to see her nodding, her mouth tight. “He loves her.” The words crush out of me, words that I have held back from myself, refusing to see what was so clearly laid out in devastating order before me. She moves beside me, taking the seat to my left, her hand reaching out and looping through mine, tugging it to her.

I know,” she whispers.

I lean into her, smelling the scent of her perfume, different than what she used to wear. Her hair is now dark, a chocolate brown that suits her, and she is wearing a suit. I frown, looking at the dark pinstripe of her pants. I don’t even know where she works—if she is still in accounting or if she has moved to a different field. I look at the bed, at the still figure there. “What do I do, Dana? This whole thing is so fucked up...”

“You talk to him,” she whispers, patting my hand. “Go out and talk to him, away from her.”

I shake my head. “I’m not leaving her. Not when any moment...” my words break. I swallow. “The doctor says she’s still unstable.”

She grips my arm, the hold tight. “You don’t need to fight over her body. Talk outside, let her have peace to heal.”

I turn, letting her see, through my eyes, my resolve. “Bring him here. She’s as much a part of this as we are. I’m not stepping away from this bed till they pull me away. Please.”

Her eyes sink a bit, and I can see disappointment in their depths, her grip weakening on my arm. “Fine,” she lets go of my arm. “I’ll go talk to him.”

“Hey,” I call out, a moment too late, when the door is swinging shut behind her. I reach for the handle, but her foot kicks back, holding the door, her eyes looking expectantly my way. “I missed you. Thanks for coming.”

She steps backward, and I move forward and we hug. A tight embrace that reminds me of what I have missed out on. “I love you,” she whispers.