“You were angry.” With a sad pang, Mandy remembered the night her father left. No argument, just exited with a simple declaration. I can’t take it anymore. She’d had her mother to help her through the anger and helplessness.

“That I was.”

“What happened?”

“Eventually, I got caught doing something I couldn’t weasel my way out of. Only I wasn’t a snot-nosed little neighborhood brat anymore. I was a legal adult, and the local beat cops had had it with me. I think they ignored the petty shit I’d done in the past because they had so much respect for my brother Pat. But at twenty, it wasn’t acceptable anymore. They grabbed me outside an electronics store with an armload of DVD players.”

Mandy stared, open-mouthed. “You were stealing them?”

Danny sighed. “I was.”

The timer dinged. Mandy transferred the first four Belgian waffles to a plate. “Did you go to jail?”

“No.” Danny stirred the herbed cream cheese into the eggs. He was silent for a minute, as if he was trying to decide if he should tell her any more. “The cop who caught me put me in his squad car.” Danny paused, scanning the kitchen. “Where can I find a chafing dish?”

“Bottom cabinet to your left.”

He pulled out the dish and set it on the counter next to the stove. “The cop was pissed. Kept asking me how the hell a man as good as Pat could have a brother as worthless as me.”

Mandy refilled the waffle maker. “That’s terrible.”

“Hey, I deserved it. I was worse than worthless.” Danny dumped the eggs into the silver dish and covered it. He set the pan back on the stove and turned off the burner. “Anyway, the cop said this was the end of the line. I was shaking in the back of the car. Thought I’d finally done it. Either he was going to beat the shit out of me, or I was going to prison.” Danny looked up at her. “I think your waffles are done.”

“Oh, geez.” Mandy rescued the food just in time. “Thanks. What did he do?”

“What?” Danny pulled another dozen eggs from the refrigerator.

“Did he beat you or arrest you?” Mandy asked impatiently.

“Oh. Neither. He drove around until morning. Then he took me to the army recruiting center. My choice was to enlist or go to prison. Either way, he was not dealing with my ungrateful punk ass committing crimes in his neighborhood again.”

“What did you do?”

“I spent the next eight years in the army and served two tours in Iraq,” Danny said. “I’d still be in the army if I hadn’t been injured.” He took a heavy breath. “We’d better get this food out, right?”