She reached them, kissed Dylans head and said, "That I will. Get me some Baileys, too, son, and tell me what you were talking about."

But they wouldnt tell her, Dylan knew, as he poured the drink. The conversation they were having was uncomfortable, and n.o.body purposely hurt their mother. Not him, not the other boys, not his pa. For Paddy ONeil, destroying their life once was enough.

Chapter 8.

The dream came again the next night...

On a crisp and cool fall day, all three boys were roughhousing out in the backyard of the pub. At five, Dylan bent over at the waist and went after seven-year-old Patrick. Hitting his older brothers legs, he took Pat down, straddled him on the ground and pinned his arms.

Patrick bucked.

From the sidelines, Liam shouted, "Come on, guys. Dont fight."

Still Patrick tried to force Dylan off, but he held Pat down, yelling, "You shouldnt have said I was a sissy."

"Youre a baby. Thats what you are."

"I told you not to say that."

Somewhere in his mind, Dylan knew he could do this to Pat, act out, yell at him, just as he knew Pat could call him every name in the book; theyd all survive. If there was one thing the ONeils were sure of, it was that the family would always stick together, no matter what they did to each other.

"Boys!" boomed a voice over the lawn, and the three of them froze. Their pa, Paddy ONeil, had come out of the back door. He crossed to his kids and towered over them. "Get up now, both of you. I have somethin to tell you."

He and Pat rolled to their feet. Dylan looked up at his big and unbreakable father. But the expression on Pas face, the droop of his jaw told Dylan things werent okay. Stupid anger forgotten, Dylan moved in closer to Pat, and Liam came and hid behind them.

Taking a deep breath, his Pa said, "I have something to tell you." The boys hardly breathed. "Im goin away for a while. Your mother and I are separatin...."

Dylan awoke in a sweat. For a minute, he didnt know where he was. He glanced around his bedroom. He was in his half of the duplex, safe. And he was an adult, not a five-year-old kid. Thank G.o.d. Inching up, he lay back in the pillows, trying to calm the wild tattoo of his heart.

The dream wasnt really a dream, per se. The event had happened, though some of the details were different each time. On that day, Dylans entire worldview had shifted. On that day, his family foundation was rocked forever. As he grew up, that day had urged him to do everything in his power to keep them all close and safe. But Pa was right last night when hed chided Dylan. His family dissolving had scared him s.h.i.tless, and hed spent much of his life since that incident trying to keep the foundation from cracking again.

Rolling out of bed, he went into the bathroom, ran some water and gulped it back; he stared at himself in the mirror. He looked like s.h.i.t-scruffy beard, hair a mess, eyes still showing signs of...fear. G.o.d, he hated that. "So, man," he asked himself. "What are you gonna do?"

Pat was still p.i.s.sed at him. Liam seemed disappointed. And they didnt even know the whole of it. When Aidan found out, hed explode. So his relationships with three of the people closest to him in the world were in trouble.

For twenty-four hours, Dylan had been agonizing over what to do. Hed had to put off his editor when Herb asked how things were going with Scott. Of course, Dylan hadnt contacted her. And shed frozen him out, too. A decision had to be made today. Limbo was killing him.

Cleaning up some, he threw on jeans and a T-shirt, then went downstairs. From the front window in his living room, he saw a big yellow bus stop in front of the house. The door to Liams other side of the duplex slammed open, and his sons, Cleary and Mike burst onto the slippery sidewalk. They raced to their transport and disappeared into it.

Without even making coffee, Dylan opened his own door and crossed to Liams. He let himself in and saw his brother on the phone, heard, "Theyre gone. Come on over, beautiful."

Despite his circ.u.mstances, Dylan had to smile. Liam and Sophie werent living together because of the boys, but she came to Liam any morning they were both free for a lovers tryst. She must have some time off from the Academy, where she was still teaching. Dylan didnt bother them when her car was in the driveway, otherwise the brothers visited routinely.

When Liam disconnected, he caught sight of Dylan. "Hey, there." He frowned. "You look like h.e.l.l."

"I need some coffee." The scent, which filled Liams house, had his brain begging for caffeine.

Pouring them both mugsful, Liam joined him in the living room. Sat down. And didnt mince words. "I know this thing with Rachel Scott is killing you."

"I wanna talk to you about her."

"Then, let me say first Ive thought about the whole thing, too. Patrick has no right to ask you to quit a job you love." Liam, whod lost his wife to cancer, added, "Gotta live your life, Dyl."

"I know. Ive made a decision."

"Shoot."

"Im going to finish the job. Ive given myself a deadline. Ill keep it cool with her, get more information, then were history."

Leaning back, Liam, wearing cords and a flannel shirt, stared at his brother. Though he was younger than Dylan, he exuded a wisdom the other guys didnt have. "Interesting choice of words. Havent you been keeping it cool with her?"

"h.e.l.l, no. As evidenced by how she threw perfectly good whiskey in my face the other night."

Liam held his gaze. "How does she feel about your relationship?"

"Sh.e.l.l cooperate because she wants to impress her boss. More power to her. She can get what she wants and so will I. I just gotta do it fast so we all can move on."

His brother sighed heavily. "You and Pat are always trying to keep us together, keep us happy. Yeah, we fight, but you take it the hardest."

Dylan thought about the dream, and his hand tightened around the mug. "Pa said the same thing last night."

They heard the front door open. Hushed, Liam said, "I can ask Soph to wait if you still want to talk."

Dylan rose. "No, go get laid. At least one of us will be happy."

Liam laughed as Sophie came into the room, dressed similarly to Liam in cords and a big flannel shirt-which he recognized as his brothers. Her strawberry-blond hair was bouncy and curled. She wore a big smile. And her eyes shone when she kissed Liam on the cheek. Sophie seemed younger, happier and more exuberant than shed ever been before she and Liam committed.

Briefly, Dylan wondered if hed ever have a relationship with anyone like theirs. His life with Stephanie had been a disaster, so maybe marital bliss just wasnt in the cards for him.

"Hey, handsome." Sophie leaned over and kissed Dylans cheek, too. "Oh, yuck, you need some toothpaste and a shower." She smelled like fresh flowers.

He laughed. "Im leaving." He turned to Liam. "Thanks for understanding."

"Im always here, Dyl."

Wisely, Sophie kept quiet. Dylan let himself out and felt the cold seep into him. He entered his house depressed as h.e.l.l.

Rachel stood over the conference table with her producer. Every morning they decided which current news to cover and where to fit in preplanned segments. "Im going to lead with the lane closures. Those emails that came out were d.a.m.ning." Hard evidence that the governors office had been involved in closing lanes had hit the news waves yesterday.

"Good idea," Crane said in that gruff way he spoke. "Youd better get writing the copy."

"Dennis and Marie are making an outline now." Those two plus Jeannine were her favorite staffers. "Ill write the copy once its done."

"Good morning."

Rachel glanced up at the familiar voice, her heart pounding before she even got a good look at him. Dressed today in a fisherman-knit, cream-colored sweater with a navy vest, jeans and boots, Dylan looked good. Too good."They called up to say you were here." Of course, she hadnt called him after she stormed out of the bar two nights ago, nor had he contacted her. Instead of taking control, shed let their situation hang and forced herself to forget about him. Almost.

"h.e.l.lo, Davis."

"Mr. ONeil." Crane gathered up some papers and turned to Rachel. "Shall I leave you two alone?"

"Yes, thanks," Rachel said, giving him the okay, much like shed had to curtail Sams protectiveness at the bar. After her producer walked out, she asked Dylan, "Should I close the door? Is there going to be shouting?"

"Nope, no more shouting. I have a plan." He was calm. Collected.

"Sit, then." She took a chair at the same table where the days show contents were spread out. "Tell me."

He threw back his shoulders. Shed noted the gesture as one of his when he meant business. "I want us both to get what we need from our situation. Youre out to impress your boss. I want my family not to suffer at your hands anymore. I figure if we can find a way to do that, we should put aside our differences."

"Agreed." Though she wondered why he didnt say he wanted to keep his job at CitySights, she didnt probe. Hed been right about staying professional. "I a.s.sume that means no more personal stuff."

"None that we can avoid. Ill have to hear about aspects of your life and motivations-under the cone of silence as we agreed. I do for everybody I investigate. But we wont share...intimate things."

"Fine by me. I wanted it that way to begin with. You set up the parameters."

"Live and learn."

They were standing there, squaring off like parties negotiating a truce. "So, the goal is to finish as soon as possible."

"The quicker, the better. Maybe in a week."

"Hopefully."

"Thatll mean we have to be together every day and probably a few nights. Ive hired someone to come in and work at the pub for me, so Im free."

That surprised her. Not the timeline, but that hed already put his plan in play. "Great. Can we start today?"

"Yes. Id like to follow your around here and see what your routine is. Especially how you dig up stories, decide on what to use."

She added, "Crane and I were just talking about the segments for tonight."

Dylan stretched out his legs and crossed his ankles. She wondered if he was as relaxed as his position indicated. "That isnt done until the day you run them?"

"We leave room for breaking news. But were always working on static segments, which we pop in around current events."

"I guess I should have known that from watching so much news."

"Im about to meet with two of my staffers who are outlining the new segments."

"Can I stay for the meeting?"

"Yes." A knock on the door. "That must be them. Come on in, guys."

With the buzz of the newsroom behind him, Dennis entered first. As soon as he saw Dylan he scowled. "You okay, Rach?"

"Im fine. Mr. ONeil will be joining us."

Marie rolled her eyes. Denniss face remained stony.

And Rachel was not looking forward to today.

"The lane closures are still the hot topic. Some shows are only covering that one story, back-to-back, investigating the governor and his staff." Dennis routinely checked into other stations and shows on NSMBC to find out what they were focusing on.

Rachel didnt agree with that approach. "The governor wont be our only coverage. Do you think we should block off more than one segment for it, though?"

Marie, beautiful and brainy, nodded. "Two, Id suggest."

"Possible guests?" Rachel queried.

Rachel stood and went to what looked like a storyboard on an easel. Theyd used Post-it notes to indicate a variety of people willing to come on the show and give insights or relay experiences theyd had with the governor. Dylan focused on Rachel. Of course he was attuned to her physical appearance--today she wore jeans-pressed and probably designer-with a V-neck, plum-colored sweater he thought was cashmere, and an all-shades-of-purple scarf to match. But after watching her, he was more intrigued by how bright she was, taking an idea, making it her own. She asked pointed questions and when the staffers-smart themselves-couldnt answer them to her satisfaction, they made notes on what to check. After an hour, they left.

Her intercom buzzed and she went to her desk. "Jeannine, Im ready for you and Tommy." The young man was her photographer.

"Hes on the phone," Jeannine responded. "Can we wait ten?"

"Sure." She disconnected and turned back to Dylan. "Jeannie, my photographer and I will work on the static segments weve chosen for today."

"So, you have five blocks?" he asked. He guessed he knew the answer, but wanted to hear her explain her show.

"Yes, though some are shorter than others."

"Whats up for tonight?"

Crossing back to the papers on the table shed been perusing when he came in, she stared down at them. "An army veteran. When he was in a coma, after returning from the Middle East with no legs, his captain came to visit. Totally unconscious, the private saluted."

"I read about that."

"Weve gotten video of him as he was then, and some from today. Its quite remarkable. He has one prosthetic leg and is awaiting another." Her face lit up. "His wife is pregnant."

Dylan thought about asking her if she ever wanted to have a child, but that was off-limits now. It didnt matter to the column he might possibly write on her. "So, this is a feel-good piece."

Her gaze narrowed on him. "People need those. I like to show success stories and happy endings-in this case, as happy as can be."

"I get that."

Before she sat back down, she poured coffee from the table off to the right, offered him some, and he took a cupful. "Dylan, one segment scheduled for today is a report on Clay Wainwright and how hes doing as acting president."