With a murmur of acknowledgment, she continued to eat. “I’ll have to figure out how to bribe him. My mother would love the recipe for this.” She switched to tea. After the first sip, her eyes opened wide.

“You didn’t have honey,” Zack said mildly. “But you had brandy.”

She took another, more cautious sip. “It ought to dull the nerve endings.”

“That’s the idea.” Reaching across the table, he took her hand. “Feel any better?”

“Lots. I really am sorry you had your Sunday wrecked.”

“Don’t make me tell you to shut up again.”

She only smiled. “I’m starting to think you’re not such a bad guy, Muldoon.”

“Maybe I should have brought you soup before.”

“The soup helped.” She spooned up some more. “But not making me feel like an idiot when I was crying all over you did the trick.”

“You had pretty good cause. Being tough’s not always the answer.”

“It usually works.” She sipped more of the brandy-laced tea. “I didn’t want to let go in front of Alex. He worries enough.” Her lips curved. “You know how it is to have a younger sibling who refuses to see things the way you do.”

“You mean so you’d like to rap their head against the wall? Yeah, I know.”

“Well, whether Alex likes to believe it or not, I can handle my own life. Nick will, too, when the time comes.”

“He’s not like that creep today,” Zack said softly. “He never could be.”

“Of course not.” Concerned, she pushed her bowl aside. This time she took his hand. “You mustn’t even think like that. Listen to me. For two years I’ve seen them come in and go out. Some are twisted beyond redemption, like Lomez. Others are desperate and confused, either battered by the streets or part of the streets. Working with them, it gets to the point that if you don’t burn out or just scab over, you learn to recognize the nuances. Nick’s been hurt, and his self-esteem is next to zero. He turned to a gang because he needed to be part of something, anything. Now he has you. No matter how much he might try to shake you loose, he wants you. He needs you.”

“Maybe. If he ever starts to trust me, he might be able to turn a corner.” He hadn’t realized how much it was weighing on him. “He won’t talk to me about my father, about what it was like when I was gone.”

“He will, when he’s ready.”