Guilt rolled over him in cold, numbing waves. His insides shriveled as she spun farther and farther away from him, now only a tiny figure in the roiling swells of water. One he knew he would never again see.

I’m sorry chased through his mind, but he couldn’t speak, couldn’t change the past, couldn’t—

Bam! Bam! Bam!

What?

He looked around. Searching for the noise. Gunshots! Bullets zinging over his head? Or—?

Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam!

Jase flinched and awoke with a start.

He lay in his bed, his eyes opening to the darkness that was his room, the display on his clock radio showing 3:15 in the damned morning. His heart was pounding as the dream receded. He’d barely gotten to sleep and now someone was banging on his apartment door?

Not bothering with his bathrobe, he strode in boxers to the front door and peered through the peephole. His brother, Prescott, scowled into the fish-eye lens.

Jase unlocked the door and threw it open. “What the hell, Pres. Do you know what time it is? My neighbors—” His gaze slid from his seething brother, jaw set in anger, to the man who stumbled to keep his balance beside him.

Edward Bridges, his weathered face more lined than Jase remembered, swayed slightly. A cigarette dangled from his lips as he blinked against the harshness of the porch light.

“Dad?” Hell, what now?

“Hey, son,” Ed said, his greeting lopsided, his mouth barely moving as he clamped hard on his Camel straight. He reeked of booze and smoke, and swayed a little as he stood, his condition far past tipsy.

“What the hell is going on?” Jase asked, his gaze moving to his brother.

Prescott’s scowl deepened. “Yeah, that’s what I’d like to know. He just showed up at my door an hour ago and Lena hit the roof.”

“I bet.”

“Drove himself, if you can believe it. Parked his stupid truck almost on the front porch. Really lucky in his condition that he didn’t wreck and kill or maim someone! Damn it, Dad, what were you thinking?”

Edward didn’t react, just tried to squint through the smoke curling up from his cigarette.

Swiping his hair back in irritation, Prescott said to his brother, “So, are you gonna let us inside or what?”

“Yeah, Jase,” their father said unsteadily, slurring his words. “You gonna less in or what?” Then he chortled and the laughter turned into a coughing fit. He let the cigarette drop and crushed it out with boots that had seen better days.

Jase swung the door wide open, and Prescott clamped one hand on the old man’s arm and dragged him inside to the living area. “This has got to stop!” he said, letting their father fall onto the couch as Jase switched on one of the lamps. “Lena is beyond upset. Beyond upset! She doesn’t want the kids to see Dad like this.”