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  Came close to slugging the guy. Deputies almost cuffed him, he was that out of control. They let him go when they learned he’d buried his wife the day before. Grief does crazy things.

  “What the hell is going on?” the man demanded as he halted before them. Cutter growled at his tone. The man looked at the dog, warily enough to tell Liam that he wasn’t completely out of control.

  “I left you a note, Dad,” Dylan said. He sounded a bit beleaguered but not frightened, Liam noted. So he wasn’t afraid of the man.

  “I found it. I thought when you said you were coming here you were meeting with that damned busybody teacher.” He turned on Liam. “Who the hell are you?”

  “He’s the one I told you about, Dad,” Dylan said, while Liam wondered what teacher he’d been talking about. Ria? Was that how he saw her being worried about his son?

  The senior Oakley frowned. “You? You’re just a kid yourself.”

  Liam didn’t react to the familiar assessment. “I’m old enough to be the guy who’s teaching Dylan how to rip somebody’s head off,” he said mildly, purposefully choosing the ominous phrase that had nothing to do with what he was really doing. He held the man’s gaze steadily, wanting to know just how angry he was.

  And, more important, why?

  “Oh. You’re the martial arts guy.” Slightly calmer. So he wasn’t out of control, Liam thought. Or at least he was calm enough to question the wisdom of tackling the guy teaching his son that particular subject. And Liam was glad of that when he heard the quiet sound of footsteps on the stairway just behind them. Ria, probably coming down to intercede, since he guessed she knew the man.

  “Yes, I’m helping kids decide if it’s something they want to do and which kind.”

  “I’m Barton Oakley,” the man said, definitely calmer now. “Dylan’s father.”

  “I could tell. There’s a resemblance.”

  The man almost smiled, but then something flared in his eyes and the anger rekindled. Interesting shift, Liam thought.

  “Dylan could be really good, once he chooses what he wants to pursue.”

  “I’m sure he could.” Oakley sounded proud. “He’s athletic.”

  Except he quit baseball, which he loved, Liam thought. But this didn’t seem the time to bring that up, so he just nodded.

  And then Ria was there. “Mr. Oakley, I’m glad you came to see what Dylan’s—”

  “You!” The anger was suddenly back at the level it had been at when he’d come in. “You are here!”

  So he had been talking about her, Liam thought as he instinctively tensed, ready to spring with a swift ferocity that almost startled him. Cutter’s hackles rose, and this time when he growled it was that half step between warning and attack. And this time Liam didn’t order him to hold. He did not like the way Oakley had spoken to her.

  Great. Dylan’ll love it if I have to take his father down. That’ll really get us to the goal now, won’t it?

  But if the man made the slightest move toward Ria, take him down Liam would. And to hell with the consequences.

  Chapter 17

  Liam marveled at Ria’s utter calm as she responded to Barton Oakley’s angry tone.

  “I arranged these sessions for the students, so, yes, I am here.”

  Liam hadn’t thought about that, that she’d feel responsible because she’d been the one to set all this up. That put her regular presence here in a whole different light and made him feel silly for being so antsy about it. But he shoved the feeling aside, not liking at all the way Oakley was glaring at her. Liam shifted position just slightly, enough to give himself a clear path to the man if necessary. Oakley didn’t seem to notice.

  “You’re the one who put those silly ideas in my son’s head,” he said angrily to Ria.

  “Dad—”

  Liam cut Dylan off but in the same easy tone. “Being able to defend yourself isn’t a silly idea, Mr. Oakley.”

  The man glanced at him, looking puzzled. “I didn’t mean that.” Then he was glaring at Ria again. “I meant you. What are you doing, getting a kickback from that shrink?”

  “Dad! Stop it.” Dylan was starting to sound stressed.

  “If you mean, did I suggest Dylan and his brother might benefit from further grief counseling, then, yes, I did,” Ria said, still in that ultracalm tone that made Oakley’s sound even harsher. “It’s part of my job to be aware of the needs of my students beyond the classroom.”

  “I’ll thank you to stay out of it.” He practically snarled it. Ria ignored his tone, but Cutter took a step forward, looking at Liam as if begging for permission to take a chunk out of the man. Liam stifled the urge to give it.

  “You’re paying a lot for your son to attend Cove and I’d hate to think you weren’t getting your money’s worth in staff attention,” Ria said.

  Liam marveled at her cool dignity and the jab she managed to put into such measured words. Apparently she knew the man’s mentality well enough to emphasize what mattered to him, because Liam saw the words register, taking the anger down a notch.

  “In fact,” she added, “you might want to set up a family session. You’ve all suffered a horrible loss.”

  Liam sensed the man’s rigidity snap back to an even higher pitch than before. Cutter growled. Liam shifted his own weight to the balls of his feet, ready to react if the man made any move he thought was in any way threatening.

  “You don’t know the half of it,” Oakley muttered.

  He heard the pain in the man’s voice. He felt for the guy; his life had been shattered. But at the same time he wondered what in Ria’s calm words could have caused the sudden escalation. She’d merely made a helpful suggestion and offered empathy. And yet Oakley was reacting as if she’d slapped him.

  “You,” Barton Oakley said through clenched teeth, “can just mind your own business.”

  “That’s enough,” Liam said. “I think you’d better go cool off.”

  The man opened his mouth, and Liam was sure another cogent suggestion was coming, but Cutter added emphasis to his words with another ominous growl. The man shut his mouth, glanced at the dog and then back at Liam. He didn’t say whatever had been on the tip of his tongue, but he looked even less happy than before.

  “I’m sure Mr. Oakley is just concerned for his son’s welfare,” Ria said, and Liam couldn’t believe how unruffled she appeared. Even Oakley seemed to realize the contrast wasn’t making him look good. Liam saw the moment when he gave in, and a few seconds later Oakley took the out she’d offered him.

  “I am. He’s my son.”

  He said the last part as if each word were a complete sentence, with an odd sort of emphasis.

  “Of course,” Ria said, smiling at him. How any man breathing wouldn’t be disarmed by that smile, Liam didn’t know. “Perhaps you’d like to stay and watch them work? Mr. Burnett is really quite good.”

  Mr. Burnett?

  He realized she was just countering Oakley’s perception of him as too young, but it still niggled at him, coming from her. Dylan made a pained face, and Liam could see that he wasn’t thrilled with the idea. But Liam could also see Oakley’s anger was fading,

  “Don’t you have to get home, Dad? Where is Kevin, anyway?”

  Just as quickly the anger was back, nearly as fierce as it had been before. “That boy isn’t your problem.”

  Liam had the feeling he was angrier at Dylan’s little brother than anyone else. Kevin taking off like that yesterday must have really scared his father. Some people didn’t handle being frightened well, and nothing was scarier than your kid vanishing.

  “You left him home alone?” Dylan asked.

  “He’s locked in his room, where he’ll be all weekend,” Oakley said sharply. “And I expect you to come straight home when you’re done here, unde
rstand?”

  “Yes, sir,” Dylan said.

  Dylan gave both Liam and Ria a darting glance that told Liam he was embarrassed as hell. Whether it was the dressing down in front of them or just his father’s attitude that had done it, Liam wasn’t sure. Obviously Kevin had been grounded, but at least their father hadn’t ordered Dylan to come with him now; he was going to let him finish the session. So Barton Oakley didn’t seem to blame the older brother for the transgressions of the younger.

  When he was gone, Liam looked at the disheartened Dylan, letting his mouth twist wryly at one corner. “Wow. And I thought my old man was bad about embarrassing me in front of my friends.”

  Liam didn’t know whether it was the commiseration or the fact that he’d classified them as friends that did it, but Dylan managed a half smile.

  “He didn’t used to be like that.”

  “So he hasn’t always had such a short fuse?”

  “Not before Mom...”

  His voice trailed off. Liam got it, really. He understood the anger part of grief, perhaps better than the other parts. He’d spent a long time there himself. Compounded by guilt, it was an ugly place to live. And Barton Oakley had reason, after what had happened.

  “I’m sure Kevin running off like that yesterday scared him,” Ria said softly. “He’s already lost your mother. I’m sure that makes him more protective of you boys than ever. He’ll get better, Dylan. It’s just going to take time. Grief isn’t something that’s predictable.”

  “And that you’re all going through it doesn’t help,” Liam added. “There are going to be times when you’re all at your lowest point at the same time, and it gets ugly.”

  After a moment Dylan nodded and then asked if they could finish up. He wanted to go check on Kevin.

  “You’re a good big brother,” Ria said with a smile before leaving to return to the gallery and her grading.

  Liam noted Dylan was a little wilder in his movements today, a little less controlled, which Liam interpreted as Dylan working through all the emotions his father’s surprise visit had stirred up.

  “One of the things this will do for you, once you narrow your focus to a particular discipline,” he said as they finished and Dylan looked a bit dejected, as if he knew he hadn’t done well, “is give you the mental strength to control your emotions.”

  Dylan flushed. “I’d like to just get rid of them.”

  “Not possible.” I’ve been trying since I was younger than you are. “But you can learn to control when to let them go.” Unless you get sloppy, like I have.

  Dylan nodded, but he didn’t look convinced. He hastened to put his shoes back on. Liam heard the faint sounds of steps on the stairs and found himself mentally bracing for Ria’s presence. That he even had to do that was yet another reminder he should heed his own advice.

  He tried to focus on the boy. “Worried about your brother?”

  “He’s really gotten kind of accident-prone.”

  Something in the way he said it, and in the phrase itself, snapped Liam’s instincts into vigilance. “So you think that’s what they are, now? Accidents?”

  Dylan nodded. “I asked him. After we talked. If he was...hurting himself. Being careless. He said he’s just always bumping into stuff. Falling.”

  “It can happen,” Liam said neutrally. Because he’d heard Ria coming he managed to stay steady, although his senses wobbled a bit when he caught that sweet scent again.

  “Yeah.” Then, with an attempt at a grin, Dylan added, “Maybe he’s just a klutz.”

  Misgiving bit into Liam’s mind. And a new possibility he didn’t want to believe. Had that shift in Dylan’s tone of voice been guilt? Was he hurting Kevin? Was Dylan Oakley taking his own tangled, grief-laden emotions out on his much smaller, skinny and relatively helpless brother?

  That would change everything.

  The moment the idea that Dylan was the cause of Kevin’s supposed new-found clumsiness entered Liam’s mind, Cutter got to his feet, looking straight at Liam. He met the dog’s steady gaze, watching as the animal walked over and leaned into Dylan as if he were his best friend ever.

  Cutter couldn’t have said, “Trust him,” more clearly if he’d spoken.

  Liam offered Dylan a ride home so he didn’t have to wait for the bus that came less frequently on the weekends, but the boy shook his head and, after a good-bye to Ria and a ruffle of Cutter’s fur, left to walk down to the bus stop. Probably still smarting from embarrassment, Liam thought.

  At least Liam’s own old man had had reason. Like your kid being arrested in front of half the population of your small town. He’d deserved some embarrassment after that. Probably more than he’d gotten. Or maybe his father had known his mother would handle the final humiliation, that look only a mother could deliver.

  But Dylan didn’t have that anymore. He had only a father who was clearly struggling, full of the anger and fear of grief.

  Chapter 18

  “I don’t envy him, going home to that,” Ria said.

  “Me, neither.” Liam kept watching Dylan as he answered. He would need to keep tabs on the senior Oakley. Yes, it was most likely grief messing with his mind, but Liam didn’t like the size of his anger.

  “You were really good with him. You said just what he needed to hear. That he’s not the only one who’s been mortified by a parent, and we’re still his friends.”

  Liam smiled at her praise but turned and lifted an eyebrow at her. “Teach, that was nothing compared to the way you handled his father. Talk about cool under fire. I would have wanted to punch him. I did want to.”

  I’d want to punch anyone who talked to you like that.

  He had to look away again, afraid she’d read too much in his expression. She was too damned perceptive sometimes. It was, he was sure, part of what made her such a good teacher, but it made keeping his distance damned hard.

  “I’m used to angry parents,” she said, but she looked pleased. “And I’m glad you didn’t punch him.”

  “I’m always for diplomacy first, if it works.” He managed a grin. “Quinn kind of preaches that.”

  “But you’re ready to fight if it doesn’t?”

  “He preaches that, too. That, in the end, it’s the only way to back up peacekeeping.” He shrugged. “I prefer to think of it as strongly encouraging good behavior.”

  She laughed. Damn, but he liked that sound. He looked away, saw Dylan through the open doors of the gym, making the turn off the campus and heading down toward the road where he would catch the bus. He didn’t realize he was frowning until she spoke.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Dylan said his brother was accident-prone.”

  Ria paused in shifting the stack of papers she held. “Not a phrase I like to hear,” she said. He was sure, as a teacher, she knew to watch out for those stock phrases that sometimes masked a much darker, deeper problem.

  He let out a breath. “For a minute there, I wondered if maybe Dylan’s problem was feeling guilty.”

  Her brows rose at that. “You mean you thought he was hurting his brother?”

  “Wondered. Guilt can really turn you inside out.”

  “Firsthand knowledge?”

  He didn’t bother to deny it. “Yes.”

  “Your budding-criminal past?” she asked lightly.

  His guilt came from more than that. Much more. And, if she knew, she wouldn’t take it so lightly. For the first time since Ria Connelly had walked into his life, he thought maybe he had the tool to deal with his roiled emotions, maybe even to quash the stupid feelings he had around her. Because he knew her well enough now to know that, while some juvenile hacking for slightly illicit reasons was something she might be able to get past, the other things that had happened because of his actions would be far, far be
yond the pale in her eyes.

  “But you’re not wondering anymore?” she asked.

  It took him a moment to realize she meant Dylan. How the hell did she short-circuit his brain like that?

  “No,” he said. “Cutter gave him the seal of approval.”

  She drew back slightly. “What?”

  “The moment I thought it, he made it very clear Dylan’s to be trusted.”

  Ria looked at the dog. “You mean, when he went and leaned all over him?” Liam nodded. “So what, he’s a mind reader?”

  She sounded doubtful but not mocking, so he answered honestly. “Seems that way, sometimes. He’s a million times better at reading people than any dog I’ve ever known, and I’ve known a few. My folks raise them. But I’ve never seen one like him.”

  She gave him a curious look. “Your parents raise dogs? Back in Texas?”

  He nodded. “Hounds and hunting dogs.” He glanced at Cutter. “Whole different mind-set.”

  “I don’t even know what kind he is,” she said.

  “Even Hayley isn’t positive, although they think he’s mostly a Belgian. A Terv, my mom calls them. They could do a DNA test, but I think Hayley decided things were fine as they are. If it ain’t broke and all.”

  Ria smiled at that. “I can’t blame her. He’s quite remarkable.”

  “He’s pretty good at getting people to do what he wants. Herding-dog thing, I guess.”

  “People and sheep do sometimes have much in common,” she said.

  He couldn’t help laughing at that. “Too often.”

  “I hope he’s right this time, too. I’d hate to think Dylan would hurt anyone but especially his little brother.”

  “I’m betting he’s right.” Cutter stretched in that doggy way, front end down and tail in the air, and then he trotted toward the door. “I think my partner’s ready for some fresh air.”