“I know, I know. I just can’t…” For a second, Arlo seemed to be at a loss, and he couldn’t hide the flash of distress distorting his spare features. “I can’t get that night out of my head.”

Tucker knew how he felt. Just the secondhand knowledge of it was bad enough. “She’s not that woman anymore,” Tucker said, trying to appeal to what he knew was a large vein of fairness hidden behind Arlo’s tough-guy exterior. “And not all men are like her ex. You’ve done all the right things as a brother—to make her feel safe, to provide for her while she worked through her trauma. But she’s had three years of therapy, and she’s telling you she’s ready, and it’s time to step back.”

The erect line of Arlo’s shoulders gave a little as he exhaled on a loud sigh. “I wasn’t there for the first twenty-two years of her life. Is it so wrong to want to be there for her now?”

“Only when you carry a gun and can throw people in jail,” Drew said pointedly.

Arlo shrugged. “Says you.”

Tucker sighed. “This isn’t the Wild West. Your sister does not need your permission to talk to a man or go on a date or join Tinder.”

Arlo grumbled something under his breath about modern times—sounding suspiciously like Bob Downey. “What if she’s not as ready as she thinks? What if it…sets her back?” A deep crease of concern marred his forehead.

“Then she has you and her shrink and me—” Tucker faltered a little, feeling suddenly conspicuous. “Us.” He pointed between him and Drew. “Hell, she’s got this whole damn town to turn to if she needs us.”

Arlo chugged his beer in one long continuous swallow. “Hit me again,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he placed the empty bottle down.

Tucker exchanged another look with Drew. They’d obviously given Arlo something to think about, but it was in his nature to be protective. It was what made him such a good cop. And how he’d lost his leg.

Grabbing another Bud, he opened it and handed it over.

“Just…try to be open and supportive when she tells you, is all,” Drew reasoned. “If you’re encouraging and positive, she’ll be more likely to talk to you about the guys she’s meeting online and ask you for your advice. Maybe you could even encourage her to find a less-toxic platform to meet someone? But she’s not going to listen to you if you go all bad cop on her. You need to…create a dialogue.”

Arlo peered at Drew through slitted eyes. “Since when did you turn into Dr. Phil?”

Drew gave a soft snort. “Please. I see dead people for a living. I can out-Phil Dr. Phil any day.”