“That’s true,” Luke conceded, his turnaround just as suspicious. “Daddy meddled in our lives enough that we should be more sensitive to Cody’s feelings. Besides, Melissa probably doesn’t want to see him any more than he wants to see her.”

“Why? Is she involved with someone?” Cody asked, regretting the words the instant they slipped out of his mouth. The triumphant expressions on Luke’s and Jordan’s faces were enough to set his teeth on edge.

Jordan stood as if he’d just recalled a business crisis that couldn’t be put off. “Come on, Luke. We’ve obviously accomplished our mission here,” he said blithely. “The man is on the hook. Let’s leave him to decide whether to wiggle off or take the bait.”

“A fascinating metaphor,” Luke commented, joining Jordan. He glanced back at Cody. The teasing glint in his eyes faded. “Don’t be a damned fool, little brother. Go see the woman. You know you want to. It’s time you settled things with her once and for all. We want you back here for good.”

Cody finished the beer after they’d gone. He thought about ordering another one, but decided against it. It would only be delaying the inevitable. Some sick, perverse part of him wanted to see Melissa, just as Luke had guessed. He needed to know if that reaction he’d felt at the church had been a fluke or the undeniable response of a man for the woman he’d belatedly realized that he’d always loved.

He paid the check—his damned brothers had stiffed him on the bill, on top of everything else—and then headed down Main Street. In the middle of the block he hesitated, staring across at the front of the drugstore that had been his favorite hangout as a teenager. His and Melissa’s.

Little had changed. Dolan’s Drugstore was still printed in neat black, gold-edged letters on the door. A display of toys sat on the shelf beneath the big plate-glass window, visible to any child passing by. A rack of comic books stood off to the side. Cody suspected they were the same faded editions that had been there a decade before. The toys looked suspiciously familiar, too. In fact, when he’d crossed the street for a closer look, he was almost certain that there was a ten-year layer of dust on the red, toy fire truck.

Telling himself he was fifty kinds of crazy for going inside, he found himself turning the knob on the door anyway. A bell tinkled overhead, alerting anyone working that a customer had entered.