“I told you. I'm fine.”

“I didn't just fly here on a godforsaken red-eye to hear you spout that denial crap.”

Connor's mouth twisted up on one side. “Now that's real suffering. A red-eye flight.”

A sound of frustration rippled out from Andrew's throat, two years of rejected invitations to connect with his son all coming at him at once.

“Your IQ tests were off the charts. You could have been anything you wanted to. You're only thirty. It's not too late to go back to school, to become a doctor or professor. Heck, I've heard you've been a hell of a teacher to the rookie hotshots these past couple of years.”

“Think how much easier it would have been to tell me that over the phone instead of coming all this way.”

“Damn it, Connor, I'm your father. I put aside everything else in my life to come here. To help you.”

“Bullshit. You never wanted me and Sam to be firefighters, never got tired of saying it was a dead-end job. Must feel damn good to finally be right.”

Andrew needed to call a break, reassess, approach Connor from a different angle, but before he could do any of that, Connor was saying, “Did you cheat on Mom?”

What the hell?

“Cheat on your mom? What are you talking about? I might have done a lot of things, but I never did that.”

“I already know about Isabel.”

Andrew opened his mouth, closed it hard enough that his teeth clacked together. Now it made sense why Connor had been so pissed off from the moment he'd set foot on the porch.

Through gritted teeth, he said, “I knew Isabel before-”

It was all so intertwined. Andrew was tempted to lie, but something told him that would only come back to bite him in the ass harder.

“We dated before your mom.” And he'd desperately wanted Isabel back after. Even though it had been impossible.

“Was Isabel the reason you couldn't make your marriage work?”

“Yes.” He shook his head. “No. It was all so long ago. We tried, Connor. I swear it. Your mother and I tried to make it work.”

“She tried.” Connor stood up. “You didn't.”

Contrition slammed into Andrew as his son moved away, the rewind button in his head taking him through the last several minutes, highlighting every way he'd played it wrong.

Something told him that if he let his son go now, they'd be done. Completely. Which meant he'd have to play his final card. Connor's love for his brother.

“Please, Connor,” he said, reaching out to grip his son's scarred arm. “I get that I'm not your favorite person in the world, that you'd love to shove me onto the next plane back to San Francisco. But Sam and Dianna asked if I'd walk her down the aisle and I want to be part of Sam's wedding, do whatever I can to help them get ready for it.”

He swallowed everything else. I want to be a part of your life. Get to finally know the man you've become. Maybestand up for you one day at your wedding. Connor didn't want to hear any of that.

The silence dragged on long enough for Andrew to feel rivulets of sweat begin to run down his chest. And then, finally, Connor shrugged.

“Do whatever floats your boat. Doesn't make any difference to me.” Connor grabbed his running shoes from the porch. “I'm going to head out for a run.”

Andrew stood alone on the cabin's porch, watching his son sprint across the sand, desperate to get away from him.

Chapter Fifteen

THE SKY was brilliant blue, the lake like glass as Josh untied his mom's speedboat from the dock in front of their house. Five friends — including Hannah Smiley — were already on board, popping soda cans open and talking about the huge flames at last night's bonfire. He'd known all of them, except Hannah, since he was five. Some of them were full-timers like him, others only came during the summer.

Getting behind the wheel, he ignored the five-mile-per-hour courtesy speed in the bay and shot away from the dock, his huge wake quickly washing up on the shore and knocking his neighbor's boats into their docks.

Hannah was the only reason this past week hadn't completely blown. Were it not for her, he would have much rather been back in his father's loft in the city, going to loud, busy restaurants, playing the latest video games on his father's sick gaming system, drinking beer with his father's friends on poker night while betting — and losing — real money on his shitty hands.

Returning to Blue Mountain Lake was like stepping into quicksand. Small. Boring. Could his mother's diner be any more different from his father's buzzing architecture design office downtown? Red and white fifties decor versus glass and steel.

How in hell had his parents ever gotten together? Sure, he loved his mom and everything, but she was so small-town. Whereas his dad had the sharpest suits, the coolest jeans and shoes, even several pairs of funky glasses that he changed throughout the week to match his moods.

He looked back over his shoulder at Hannah in a casual way, not so she'd notice he was checking her out, even though he definitely was. She looked good in her white shorts and yellow T-shirt. Better than good actually. He still couldn't believe she'd wanted to come out on his boat. Not that he was the town loser or anything, but he didn't hang with the partying crowd either. Hannah had the looks to fit in with that crew, but somehow, she'd chosen to hang with him instead.

Cool.

“Man, your boat is sweet,” his friend Matt said. “I can't believe your mom lets you take it out without her.”

Josh shrugged. Yeah, the boat was fine, but he'd been riding around this lake since he was five. He was almost sixteen. Not a kid anymore.

He was ready for a change, and for the chance to show Hannah what a badass he really was. Especially after that dude on the beach had freaked about their fireworks.

“Take the wheel,” he said, standing up and heading out to the bow.

“Dude, that's illegal,” Ben said.

Sure, Josh thought, his mom would shit a brick if she saw him bow riding, but she was always holed up in her diner on the other side of the lake.

“When was the last time a ranger went out on the lake and busted someone?” He looked at Hannah and shook his head as if to say, “We should have left this loser on shore.”

Crawling across the white fiberglass, he made it to the metal rails on the very tip of the boat. Hooking his legs under them, he yelled back at Matt, “Hit it!”