Jericho slid back but bumped into the table again. “Hold on!” He held up his hands to ward Dylan off. “I didn’t sleep with her. I vow it.”

Dylan kept coming. “Your promise means nothin’, Bliss. Nothin’!”

“I kissed her a couple of times. That’s all.”

Dylan grabbed at Jericho’s shirt and twisted it hard so the collar began to choke him. He could overpower Dylan if he needed to. But suddenly he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to do anything. Without Ivy he had no motivation to go on. He hadn’t since he’d arrived in Chicago.

As if sensing Jericho’s unwillingness to fight, Dylan loosened his grip and whacked one of his shoulders. “Do you love her?”

Jericho wasn’t sure whether to tell Dylan the truth. But what difference did it make if Dylan knew?

Dylan shook Jericho. “Tell me! Do you love her?”

“Yes.” Jericho could only hang his head, avoiding his friend’s eyes and the disappointment sure to be there.

Dylan was quiet for several exhalations. “Then go back and marry her.”

Did he dare? Could he really drop everything—his work, his next assignment, his future at Pinkerton—and return to Colorado to be with Ivy? How could he live with himself knowing how much she was hurting on account of him? He wanted more than anything to make her happy.

At the same time, maybe they both just needed more time to get back to their lives the way they were before the summer came and disrupted everything.

As if sensing the direction of Jericho’s thoughts, Dylan slapped at his chest. “You’re nothin’ but a coward, Bliss. A big coward.”

Jericho staggered backward. And this time nothing got in his way to halt him.

“Go on. Get out of here!” Dylan waved a hand at him in dismissal. “You messed things up, and now you don’t have the guts to go and fix them. You make me sick.”

Jericho somehow managed to find the door and push his way out into the night. The chill of autumn hung in the air along with the dampness from Lake Michigan. A crowded horsecar rattled past, leaving the waft of manure in its wake. In spite of the evening hour, the sidewalk and street were congested by pedestrians, and he allowed the swell to carry him along past cheap eating establishments, barrooms, pawn shops, and hotels.

He stumbled the three blocks until he reached his dad’s town house. He made it up the front flight of steps and into the dark foyer. As the door closed behind him, he leaned back against it and rested his head, only to find himself staring at his dad’s prostrate form sprawled across the settee in the parlor. The light from a lone lantern illuminated the flask on the floor.